Page 130 of A Lucky Shot

“It’s probably nothing. Like, really nothing. The shots are grainy, but …” Libby pressed her lips together.

“I can’t really assume anything if I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Cass’s voice sounded brittle to her own ears.

“Josh and Brynne. There’s photos of them hugging, then going into her trailer. The captions said they didn’t come out for a while.”

The room greyed and pressed down on her. It shouldn’t be a surprise. The two had never been anything more than professional on set—fighting, if anything. But Brynne was a stunning woman, and Josh was, well, Josh. Gorgeous and creative and irresistible.

But even if it was something …

“You’re probably right. It’s probably nothing.”

If she said it with a firm enough voice, she might believe it.

Either way, it didn’t matter. She’d ignored Josh’s every attempt to talk to her. Left him on read with every text. Deleted every voicemail without listening to it. “But what Josh does, and who he does it with, is up to him.”

Cass clicked off the call and plugged it into her search bar. Libby was right. It was the first thing that showed up when she searched Sirius Darker movie. The talking head videos popped up first, speculating over what was happening behind closed doors. Then, grainy, low-res shots of the Josh and Brynne embracing on set, another with him following her into her trailer, both taken just days before filming had wrapped.

She shut down the feed. It didn’t look like anything. Josh had given Libby the same one-arm hug when her brilliant lighting made a particularly tricky night shot work. And Josh almost always went behind closed doors for serious conversations. It was probably that.

But what if it wasn’t?

She knew what it felt like to be pulled behind closed doors with him. Not knowing if it was going to be a quiet discussion about a scene or if he would pin her against the wall with his hand working between her thighs. His arms would steal around her, his soft stubble rasping against her temple as he whispered something sweet, filthy—or both—in her ear. How he would fight with her about a movie, longer than its runtime, just to keep her talking.

Stop torturing yourself. He is married. He hid that from you. For months.

Cass swiped her cheeks. No more.

Her phone buzzed again and her already low heart sunk further. The list of people who would text her this late was short.

The man must have a sixth sense for when she was vulnerable. Or her hormones sent a signal into the sky that alerted him when she was easy pickings. Or maybe it was men in general. She half expected a text to show up from some other guy who had ghosted her months ago.

How ironic. She’d been the one doing all the ghosting for the last several months. Maybe this was cosmic payback. She wearily bent her head over her phone.

are you dating dawson james??

How do you know about Dawson?

So you are??

you were tagged in a video

Kissing, it looked like

And that was his cue to circle up and see if he still had her on his carousel of numbers to call when he needed a hookup. Dole out a compliment or two to keep her on the bench.

Her fingers hovered over the keys as she debated whether to respond. She didn’t owe him anything. And if she replied, she might not be able to say no.

No random guys to message and hide behind tonight. Only her and her battered willpower. She bit her lip and tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling.

D and I are just friends

Not sad to hear that ;)

You looked beautiful as usual

Wyd now?

Wallowing in my terrible luck with men. So many of the guys she’d gone on dates with as part of project No Second Dates had been losers. Just as many had been fine. Nice on their own, but no compatibility. Steak and ice cream. Orange juice and toothpaste. Wine and oatmeal.

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