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“Of course!”
“And to think I imagined wooing as buggy rides with an escort so no improprieties were engaged in.”
He gave my chin a little nip. “I’m all for improper behavior if it wins you over.” He stared at me hard, driving his words into my cinderblock head—or trying to. “I will do whatever is needed, Stillman. I’ve learned a lot of hard life lessons along the way to get where we are now.”
“In a chilly wardrobe trailer parked in some two-horse town?”
“Exactly.” His smile was stunning just like the movie magazines had always claimed it was. “One of the largest lessons was that I’d given up the only man for me for fame.”
I was about to ask him if he would do the same thing again if he had to when a rap on the door scared us both so badly we startled.
“Shit,” he hissed, leaping into action. He yanked up his zipper as I scrambled around looking for my clothes on what had to be a hundred hangers on one of ten rolling wardrobe racks. “One minute, we’re in our delicates!”
“I can’t find my damn clothes!” I spat, shoving hangers aside frantically.
“You’re in A through J. Look on the next rack for K for King,” Tony called while raking his fingers through his mussed hair. “Christ, I think I have cum on my shoes.”
“Could be worse. Could have cum on your shin,” I fired back just as I found my street clothes neatly folded and covered with thin plastic. The hammering got louder. “Tell them to stop knocking or I’ll arrest them for unnecessary impatience.”
That got a giggle from my—I’d search for a word for him later. Right now, I was all about hiking my pants over my ass. Tony bumbled about, tripping over hats that lay on the floor untended, until he got to the door. I gave him a nod at his fast glance back as I shucked my shirt up over my shoulders. He threw the door open and cussed at whoever was on the portable stairs.
“You’re fired,” I heard him saying.
“Better me than poor Gibraltar who, rumor has it, was sent to the diner with his heart set on cranberry and eggnog tarts only to be told there were none because cranberry and eggnog tarts wereyesterday’sbaked goodie,” I heard Mignon taunting. Must be they had an incredibly good working relationship if he could give his boss shit like he did. He peeked around Tony when I ambled out, my belt in my hands. “Mmhmm, I figured. You’re welcome. I did divert Gibraltar when he was on his way back to the trailer, tartless and heartbroken, with the key to the door in his hand.”
“Young Gibraltar would have gotten a first-hand lesson in fellatio,” Tony replied and gave me a dirty wink that made me blush. Not an easy thing to do. I was not a man prone to pink cheeks generally.
“You talk too much,” I said as I shrugged into my coat and stepped around Mignon on the top stair.
“I wasn’t doing much talking for the past fifteen minutes or so,” Tony called as I strode off, face flaming, ignoring the sad-looking wardrobe assistant as he shuffled past in the throes of utter dejection. Poor kid must really like tarts. I could hear Tony chuckling behind me. What the hell was I even doing anymore? What the hell happened to my nice, quiet, dreary life?
Chapter Eleven
It was funny how fourteendays could race past in the thump of a twitterpated heart.
My life before the crew ofTinsel Kisses for Santa—I assumed Tony was to be Santa but had yet seen him in the red suit—had been pleasant enough. I’d certainly not been unhappy by any means, just a little lonely at times. Ellery coming along had been an enormous boon but damn Sam the winter nights were fucking long.
