I clear my throat. “Can you walk a little quicker? I want to get this done before the wrap party starts.”
He slows his pace instead.
“I’m admiring the view,” he says, grinning.
“Of my behind? Bad, bad boy.”
“All those squats, Reese. Soon enough, you’ll be able to bench me with all that muscle.”
I throw my head back and laugh. Then, on impulse, I reach back and grab his hand. His palm is snug against mine, our fingers slotting together like they’ve done this a thousand times before.
The wardrobe and props tent looms ahead, its white canvas glowing softly in the twilight. A hush settles between us.
“This is a tradition I’ve been doing since I was eleven,” I tell him, squeezing his hand once before letting go. “And I wanted to share it with you.”
I undo the string on the tent flap, rushing us inside. The space is drenched in golden lighting and smells of worn leather and wood.
“The props tent? You know, the last time we were alone on set like this…” Dante’s voice trails off, his hand gliding along my lower back. “Are we recreating the armory moment?”
My muscles tense at his suggestion. We could. Later.
Instead, I shoot him an exaggerated, scandalized look. “Dante! I said I’ve been doing this since I was eleven!”
“Right, sorry. All my brain is thinking about is green leather and your ass.”
“Of course it is.” I twist my hands together, suddenly feeling shy about sharing my secret tradition.
“Come on, tell me what we’re doing here.”
“After every wrap, I take something small from set. A memento.”
His hands cup the sides of his face, feigning shock. “The pristine Reese Sinclair? A thief?”
“Not theft,” I protest. “More like borrowed memories.”
“So you return the items?”
“Absolutely not. They’re mine.”
He tsks, shaking his head. “And somehow this is not one of your biggest regrets? How does stealing rank below talking in class?”
“It’s not stealing!” I insist, swatting at him.
“Forget what I said about not having anything in common.” He laughs so casually I reach up to swat him again, but he grabs my wrist. Dang quick reflexes. “Hey, I don’t judge! What loot have youborrowedand plan on never returning?” He reaches into a wooden crate, pulling out the doll Robyn’s father gave her when she was a child.
I weave between the tables. “Let’s see, a vintage brooch fromHeartland Heritage.Remember the scene where Elizabeth finds her grandmother’s jewelry box in the dusty attic? And an old brass key fromStrings of Timethat was supposed to unlock the mysterious music box. Oh, and my latest addition was this gorgeous cardigan fromLove and Loathing.”
“You’re full of surprises.”
My fingers trail over props as I search, but my attention keeps drifting to Dante behind me, the quiet weight of hispresence, the way he’s watching me. Then I spot it. The wooden dagger from when we ran through the forest, rehearsing until he was on top of me.
“This,” I whisper, voice unsteady. “This is perfect.”
“The dagger?” His fingers brush mine as he picks it up, sending a shiver down my spine.
I nod.
“Good choice,” he murmurs, turning it over in his hands.
