I swipe my tongue over the front of my teeth, hating the taste of what he’s just said and knowing it’s true all at once.
“I’m pretty sure Richard’s producing us at this point, or at the very least blackmailing us. Before tonight, he pulled me asideand told me you were proving more difficult than he expected, but that he noticed how responsive you are to me. And so, he asked me to go out of my way to make sure I keep you on track.”
“What did you say to that?”
“I told him I would—”
“Is that what you were doing outside the bar? Keeping me on track? Because you waltzing around in that little denim dress with your hair all wild and free only makes me want to break the rules.”
A full-body flush sweeps over me. He’s so… direct.
But I don’t let him distract me. “Emmett, I’m serious. He’s on to us. It’s like he’s keeping tabs. And the fact that the crew and producers just happened to show up at The Sugar Saloon when we were there—it’s weird. I tried to throw him off by mentioning going on a date that Riley set up for me. He told me multiple times that he wants me to report back on how it goes. It was unnerving.”
“Like hell—”
“This is my first job out of school,” I cut him off, because we can’t start crossing those lines. Especially considering he still has several weeks of filming left to go. “This is important for my entire future. I’m barely qualified for this gig. I’ve broken the bank to get these degrees under my belt. I’ve worked long hours and won scholarships, all to make it out without crippling debt. If I leave this job with a black mark on my résumé, it could haunt me forever. And you? You need this. I know you do.”
He groans and flops back, but rather than dropping my hand, he stretches his arm, maintaining the contact.
“I know,” he groans, looking utterly tortured by the admission. “I know my oma and opa would never admit it, but they’re counting on that money now. They didn’t ask me for it. I did this to myself. It’s what I signed up for, but now I—”
He cuts off, turning to look out the window, tongue popping into his cheek as he considers his next words. “I regret it,” he says, turning to stare at me.
I can see the desperation in his eyes and wonder if it’s reflected in mine too.
But I don’t give it voice. It won’t make this easier, and it won’t make us feel better. The best thing either of us can do is walk in the opposite direction—and we both know it.
“Well, in that case,” I start, “it’s for the best that we pretend nothing ever happened.”
His brow furrows, and he doesn’t respond.
“Right?” I urge, needing him to agree with me. Because while we both know he’s been the one to kiss me first… I haven’t been fending him off.
I am just as much the problem as he is.
“Emmett? Do you agree?”
He stares at me for several seconds before he speaks again. “I agree it’s too risky, but I’d be lying if I said I thought it was for the best.”
My chest goes hot, and I try not to fixate on his words. There’s a lot left unspoken between Emmett and me. Things that need to stay unspoken if we plan to make it through the remainder of this show unscathed.
I just nod, because anything I say would betray my real feelings and I’d rather gloss over the sentimental parts of this conversation. The alternative might hurt too much.
“You need to keep Evelyn in,” I state bluntly, killing the moment.
His mouth draws back in a grimace of disgust. “Evilyn, you mean?”
I stifle a chuckle, because I feel the same. “Yes, Evilyn.”
“Why? That woman is fucking awful. Did you hear the shit she said to Cookie tonight?”
I arch a brow at him. “It’s not like Cookie had lots of nice things to say either.”
He scoffs. Everyone on set knows that Evelyn is not popular in the bunkhouse.
“Who did you eliminate anyway?”
He gives me a sheepish look. “Cookie. I knew better than to make it Evelyn, and you were right. No grown man can moan that name. But really, it could have been any of them.”
