Page 89 of A Lucky Shot

Josh closed the door behind her and turned on her with the same scowl he’d been wearing all day. She unwound the long-knitted scarf from around her neck, draping it in cozy loops over her arm, and waited.

“What’s going on with you and Dawson?” he said.

She blinked at him. “That’s what you have to say?”

Yes, because I’m a coward. “Set photos are being leaked,” he hedged, building up his courage.

“I noticed. I had about a hundred people tag me yesterday,” she said, and gave a weak thumbs up. “I’m famous.”

“They managed to find a lot of photos with you two together.”

“Photos of me doing my job, you mean?”

So, she knew. He looked past her shoulder and out to the street beyond. “Let me guess. Dawson?”

Cass sighed. “He told me everything.”

Of course the fucking Boy Scout had. It was the right thing to do. Bet he had decided to tell Cass before he’d even left the room, all while Josh had tried to cover his own ass.

“He left that meeting and came straight to tell me about the leaked photos. That the publicist is happier than a five-year-old on Christmas morning, and the fact that everyone wanted to keep me in the dark. Including you.” She dropped into the chair across from him and the hurt in her eyes made him look away. “Were you going to tell me?”

The tension he’d been holding in his chest spiked his gut. “Of course I was.” Just as soon as I’d figured out how.

She raised an eyebrow.

“I was. I wanted to …” He rolled his shoulders. It didn’t matter what he’d wanted anymore. “I just needed to figure out the right way to say it.”

“I’m a big girl. You don’t need to sugar-coat for me.”

Even if she did think she could take it, he’d sent her out to be bruised enough. Josh swallowed a groan. “Our publicist should take over your socials for a while. Lock it down so you don’t get harassed?—”

“No need. I’ve set my accounts to private. You should have seen how many matches I had on Tinder when I logged on this morning to shut down my account. And really, selling me and Dawson as a couple …” she trailed off, peeking up at him.

He thought about the photo with Dawson grinning down at her even more dopily than usual; the caption Canoodling in Canada emblazoned across the top. Who the fuck said canoodle? These gossip sites needed better copy editors.

And Dawson was an incredible actor, but none of that looked like an act. That man’s intentions were declared louder than if he’d tweeted them to his eight hundred thousand followers.

“I bet Dawson would be first in line for that,” he said petulantly.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sounded jealous.”

We’re beyond sounding jealous, Lucky Charms. “I wasn’t sure if his ‘gosh, golly, gee’ response was an act or if he really was that concerned.”

“D’s a sweetheart. Of course he’s concerned.”

That made it worse. That Dawson had immediately done the right thing out of concern for her, and Josh had sat on the news all day, stewing, like a selfish asshole.

A soft smile traced her lips. “He also said you stood up for Brynne.”

It wasn’t her I was standing up for. If he couldn’t admit it was because he couldn’t stand to see Cass in another man’s arms, even staged, he wouldn’t take credit for the small bit of goodness that had come out of the day. He shrugged.

“Just talk to me, please,” she said. She stood to leave and paused by his side to squeeze his arm. “This shouldn’t have been a big deal. Respect that I should know these things.”

This was the extent of the confrontation? Just a gentle request not to keep her in the dark? Josh raked his fingers through his hair for the thousandth time that day, and fresh guilt churned his stomach.

“Okay.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

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