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“That’s good,” Wes said and tipped his chin to the book sliding down Chris’s lap. “What’s that?”
He showed him Wuthering Heights.
“You’ve been reading a lot lately. What’s that about?”
Chris swallowed. What was it about? Trying to expand his horizons? New hobby? Or just Bronte? “Inspiration.”
Wes smiled, a little too perceptively. “So studious of you.”
* * *
Bronte was stretchedout on her bed, propped up on her elbows with her feet in the air behind her. She found it was the most flattering position to lie on her stomach so Chris could see the curve of her butt if she angled the laptop exactly right. She was in a matching black lace bra and panties since they’d long ago dropped the formality of clothes.
She checked her hair one last time before Chris’s face popped up.
“There you are. I thought maybe you were going to stand me up for a second.”
“Never,” he said, scooting closer to the screen. His hair was shorter now, only a few inches on top but even curlier, except for the sideburns, grown out long for his role. He scratched at the one on his left side. “I was…uh, caught up.”
“With what?”
He ran his hand through his hair a few times before giving her a weird, fake smile.
“What?” She braced herself.
“I got a dog.”
That was the last thing Bronte expected to hear. She sat up. “You what?”
Chris left the screen and returned a few seconds later with a mangy-looking thing in his arms. It had wiry brown and gray hair that stood out in every direction, and its huge tongue lapped out, licking anything it could, including the computer.
“I was at the vet with him,” Chris said, rubbing the dog’s belly. “His name’s Taco.”
“You named him Taco?”
He shook his head. “He was already named. I adopted him. They found him on the side of the road chewing on a paper plate.”
Bronte didn’t want to say it, but she thought the dog looked as if he’d chewed on a lot more than a paper plate. Maybe an electrical wire.
“What kind of dog is it?”
Chris shrugged. “The vet thinks part greyhound, though, because of his body. And he’s a fast little shit. I took him for a walk this morning, and he was running all over the place.”
The dog faced the screen then, and Bronte finally noticed his big, droopy caramel-colored eyes. “He is kind of cute, I guess.”
“You guess? No. He’s the handsomest dog ever.”
“Most handsome,” Bronte corrected, and Chris rolled his eyes before leaning in to the screen.
“I miss you. I miss you in my bed. That’s why I got Taco. I need a warm body next to me.”
She laughed. “And Taco is going to sleep next to you every night?”
“He’s not a very good kisser, but he’ll do. Besides, he’s got abandonment issues. I feel bad for the guy.” He glanced down at the dog, and Taco gave him sloppy licks across his chin. “Right? You don’t like to sleep alone, do you? Me either.”
Bronte reached down to grab her T-shirt and pulled it over her head. They weren’t going to have a naked date after all. Not that she minded. Any time with Chris was precious, especially when they could see each other, because it was becoming increasingly harder and harder since he had started filming. She wasn’t going to take it for granted.
Instead, she put on her happy face and tried her best not to sound too frustrated with their situation when she said, “I hope Taco doesn’t mind sharing you because the next time I see you, I plan on chaining myself to your body.”
He grinned. “I’m looking forward to it.”
