Page 61 of A Lucky Shot

“Stop it.” She huffed out a breath. “Just don’t get me murdered.”

He felt a shadow cross his face. “That’s one of the reasons I matched you with boring guys. Safer.”

“I’m not saying I need training wheels,” she said. “I hooked up with you, didn’t I?”

It was true; she wasn’t an ingenue waiting wistfully on a fainting couch for a dashing duke to whisk her away. She got out there and took what she wanted. Just a lot of what she wanted wasn’t great for her.

What did that say about him?

They’d worked together for months now, sharing and arguing about ideas. They had exchanged emails in the weeks leading up to the first team meeting. Design. Casting. What would specifically look good with the actors, the overall aesthetic. A thought occurred to him that he should have realized earlier.

“This summer, when we had our first pre-production meeting,” he said. “On that video call. You knew it was me.”

Cass averted her eyes with a slightly guilty expression.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked, and immediately regretted it. Putting her on the spot, when she couldn’t get away, was kind of a dick move.

There could be any number of reasons she wouldn’t want to bring it up. She’d said herself she thought it might be weird working together after, although that had fortunately not materialized. No weirdness. Only a low-grade burn under his skin whenever they were in the same room.

She turned her eyes to the trailers, as if she was looking for an exit. Fuck, he’d pushed too hard. He opened his mouth to take it back when she spoke.

“I didn’t know if there was anything to say. I didn’t know if you’d even remember me,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “Why bring attention to something that might go unnoticed?”

“You are unforgettable,” he said without thinking, surprised by the heat in his voice, and her expression softened.

“That night we were together? It was really special for me. Not like, you know.” She made scare quotes with her fingers and adopted a teasing voice. “Best night of my life.”

He couldn’t help the snort that escaped. “Bet it was up there. Top ten, at least.”

It was for him.

“At least,” she said softly. She made a show of rooting through her purse, looking like she was buying time to weigh out what she wanted to say. Finally, she said, “I had a lot of fun with you. We made each other laugh?—”

“And drove each other a little crazy. I mean, your takes on the end of that thriller? Everyone’s entitled to their opinions, just not when they’re that wrong.”

“Says the man who thinks lens-flariness is next to godliness.” She waited for his retort, but he just shrugged, so she continued, “I hadn’t felt that good about myself in so long. And then we’d texted that night …”

A surge of pleasure rushed through his chest. He had hooked up with more than his fair share of partners, but no, that night had been something different for him, too. A lot hotter. A whole lot more laughter. He’d held off on shooting his shot with her for hours, wanting to talk with her instead, hear her opinions. Knowing she’d had as good a night as he had felt … like something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“You’re really great for my ego, Lucky Charms.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

He shrugged. “You still haven’t answered my question. Why not say something?”

“Just because that night was special for me didn’t mean it was for you.”

He cleared his throat. “I’m not likely to forget a night like that, either.”

Cass looked up and shone a smile on him that sent a flare under his sternum like a warning shot.

He couldn’t do this. Not now. They’d fucked, had fun, and called it a night. They’d swapped a couple texts, and she sent him a picture of her tits. That was it. His life was too complicated for this shit.

Josh snapped his attention to the monitors in front of him. “Now you’ve got homework. Phone,” he demanded, hand out.

Her smile faltered. “Oh, right.”

He swiped, frowning at the clowns on the screen. Nothing but neck beards, endless flannel, and pick-me-up trucks.

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