Page 38 of A Lucky Shot

“I’m still not getting what I need,” he ground out.

“Which would be what, exactly?”

Josh slumped into his director’s chair, elbows on his knees and fingers tugging his hair like he could pull his thoughts straight through his skull. He could practically hear Cass say that wouldn’t be helpful, and instead swore under his breath for the hundredth time that hour.

“You need them to look like they didn’t just meet a month ago.”

All three heads turned to Cass, who paused her adjustments on Dawson’s costume.

She blinked between the three of them, shifting uncomfortably. “Our main characters have a long, complicated history. They’ve been rivals, colleagues, lovers”—the way that last word rolled off her tongue sent a jolt straight to his groin—“but you two don’t know each other yet. My hunch is once you spend more time together, feel each other’s rhythms, it’ll flow out of you.”

Josh sucked in a breath. That was it. That’s what was missing.

Time. History. Trust. No one would mourn the loss of their future if they didn’t have a past.

Cass just solved the problem that had plagued him for days.

Her instincts were incredible.

He studied her. She always looked put together, but today her normally boisterous curls were more dishevelled than usual. Her blousy top had wrinkles, and he’d seen the pleather pants recently. Very recently. Something he couldn’t put his finger on plucked at the corner of his brain.

Dawson’s bloodied face broke out into a lopsided smile. “Well, shoot. That’s a right neat way to put it. I think that’s my block.”

“I know it would help me,” Brynne agreed. “Can we move this scene?”

If they filmed the scene later in production, they’d have months to build trust. But expenses would climb, and continuity would need a full review. Juggling the schedule now would cause a shitstorm.

Fuck.

“One day you’re going to have permanent elevens creased into your brows.” Cass reached over to smooth them out with her thumb, and a warm glow flowed over him as the tension left his body. She hummed in approval. “Don’t worry. Stephen and Terry are magicians. They’ll figure it out.”

Josh exhaled sharply through his nose. Right. He didn’t need to do it himself. His team had his back. He felt the corner of his mouth turn up. “Stephen will blow a gasket when he learns this is your idea.”

Cass waved a hand. “Stephen loves me.”

Like a sister? He bit down on the words before they escaped his mouth.

“Come on, you two,” Cass nodded to Brynne and Dawson. “I’ll get you out of those suits.”

He tore his gaze away from her ass as she crossed the set. What the fuck was wrong with him today? None of the things on his to-do list included mentally undressing his costume designer.He motioned to a hovering Bex. “Tell Stephen and Terry I need them.”

Most of the directors he’d worked with had been yellers. When he was a production assistant, they didn’t know his name, and just snapped their fingers at him. When he was first assistant director, a lot of the yelling was for him to get someone to do something different, not something Josh had done wrong. The stories he’d heard from other sets, there was nothing but screaming, which, for whatever reason (money and egos—the reason was always money and egos) people put up with. But it was a lot easier to get things done when he wasn’t being an asshole.

See? Not even barking orders at Bex anymore, thanks to Cass. Although that was still more of an order than a request. One day he might even say please.

“On it!” she chirped, and skipped off in search of his first AD and production coordinator.

It took less than thirty seconds to fill them in on the scheduling change.

“You’re springing this on me now?” Stephen said. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“And deprive myself of the pleasure of your company?” Josh deadpanned. “Never.”

“Impossible.”

“Impossible is part of your job description.”

“It’s going to cost us.”

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