Patsy got up and stretched when Max called out to her. Sadie reached into her cardigan pocket and pulled out a jerky treat, holding it between her fingers. Max was about to protest but then Sadie said, “It’s organic chicken, no wheat.”
He shrugged, annoyed Sadie was feeding Patsy—who was on a strict diet, because gluten made her skin itch—but also pleased at her thoughtfulness.
“You’re really good,” Sadie said, crouching down to smooth the flyaways on Patsy’s ears, running her hand along the soft sweater. “My gran knits, and this pattern is not easy.”
Max was about to say, “Thanks, but let’s change the subject” when the door flew open again. This time there was no knock, no warning at all. And in a split second Patsy had bolted out the open door.
Landon looked stunned as Patsy ran past him. Max was mere seconds behind Patsy, but Sadie beat him to it, racing out the trailer after the dog. However, she forgot about her shoes, jumping out the door and skipping the stairs altogether.
At first Sadie landed on her feet, heels and all, which impressed the hell out of Max. But then she fell sideways, hard, and was a moment later sitting on the ground holding her left ankle with a pained expression on her face.
“Sadie, shit!” Max pushed around Landon and jumped from the trailer as well, landing easily in his boots. He crouched beside her, concerned. “Are you okay?”
“Don’t worry about me,” Sadie said between clenched teeth. She looked pale even under her makeup, and Max knew she had to be in a lot of pain. “Get Patsy.”
The dog, bored by the parking lot, trotted back toward Sadie and Max, then plopped herself down and rested her head on Sadie’s thigh.
“Good girl,” Sadie murmured, her voice catching with the pain. Then she pulled another piece of jerky out of her sweater’s pocket and gave it to Patsy.
“You shouldn’t reward her, you know,” Max said, fastening Patsy’s harness so she couldn’t escape again.
Landon was now beside them, apologizing and sweating profusely, despite the fact that it was December in Nashville and so not at all warm. “Ms. Hunter, Mr. Brody, I am so sorry. Mr. McNeil told me to get out here and find the two of you, and then I came to the trailer, and I should have knocked.”
“Landon, it’s fine, man.” Max didn’t have time to be angry with his assistant right now. “Can you take Patsy back inside and tell Cruz we need a minute?”
The assistant, wide eyed as he glanced at Sadie’s rapidly swelling ankle, took Patsy in his arms. “What should I tell Mr. McNeil?”
“Tell him we need a goddamn minute!” Max’s exasperationboiled over. Twenty minutes earlier he had been happily knitting in the trailer, humming one of his favorite Christmas tunes, John Denver’s “Christmas for Cowboys,” which had also been one of his mom’s favorites. It was the song they used to sing on repeat while decorating the tree every holiday. He had been feeling relaxed and nostalgic just before Sadie had shown up, but now he was back to being irritated.
Sadie put a hand on Max’s arm. “Landon, tell Cruz we are going through one of the verses together and we’ll be right there.” Max had to admit Sadie ran circles around him when it came to tact and good manners.
“Go on, before he storms out here and we’re all in trouble,” she added. Landon nodded, and headed back inside the soundstage’s building.
Max returned his focus to Sadie. He ran gentle fingers over her ankle, which had nearly doubled in size. Sadie pulled her leg back slightly at his touch. “That bad, huh?”
“I’m fine. I’ve sprained my ankle before.”
“Your ankle looks like it swallowed a golf ball. It might be broken.” He carefully pressed on the swollen area again, and she cringed. “You should probably get an X-ray.”
“No way,” Sadie said, shaking her head. “We need to get inside. Like I said, Cruz was in amood. I overheard him on the phone. Something about his restaurants.”
Max had never eaten at Cruz’s Catfish—the seafood restaurant chain the producer had started with a partner—but he’d heard rumors that not only was the catfish terrible, the chain was in financial trouble thanks to recent food poisoning outbreaks.
“Can you help me up?”
Max came behind Sadie and crouched so he could slide his arms under hers. “Ready?”
She nodded.
“Okay, one, two... three.” Max stood, hoisting Sadie up as he did. She leaned back against his chest for a moment, and he held tight. “You okay? Can you put weight on it?”
Still holding Sadie under her arms, he peered around to see her face when she didn’t answer him. She did not look good. “You going to pass out on me here, Sadie?”
She shook her head, then determinedly set her bad foot on the ground, gingerly shifting her weight. She drew in a sharp breath, and Max took her weight back into his arms as she stood again on one leg.
“I can’t walk. How am I going to perform?” She sounded close to tears, and Max felt beyond guilty. Sure, he didn’t ask her to jump out of the trailer in three-inch heels, but shehaddone it to try to catch his dog.
“Well, lucky for you, I do a hundred push-ups a day,” Max said, shifting beside her without letting her go.
