Page 64 of Bad Reputation

“You’re not going to let me wallow in self-pity, and—”

“It’s probably bad for your skin, and then Zoya would be mad at me.”

The mention of Zoya took the flirtation right out of the conversation. He and Maggie both had a lot riding on this job. Too much for him to be counting the freckles along her collarbone.

Six ... that he could see.

Maggie ate another fry. “This is not my business at all, but if you have a chance to encourage Tasha to seek therapy, it might be a goodidea. I mentioned it to her, but she could probably use some more prodding.”

“I’ll try.”

Tasha would sayfucka lot in response to that suggestion. A dozen, heck, two dozen times—he ought to offer Maggie the over/under on it.

Maggie picked up her glass and watched Cole over the rim. Closely. With the kind of deep scrutiny that made him want to sit up straighter and maybe flex his biceps.

“I have no idea how you got through that scene today,” she finally said.

When Tasha had said she wanted to do it, he hadn’t known if they’d be able to get through it either. He’d had to block everything out that wasn’t Tasha. Just let the muscle memory they’d built up over the rehearsals take over and put his body on autopilot.

“This isn’t very healthy, but it honestly might have been the best thing we could’ve done. Acting can be like ... obliterating yourself. For a few hours, I didn’t have to be me. Tasha didn’t have to be her.” They’d put up a wall between themselves and everyone else. Honestly, when the day had ended and he’d realized how much time had passed, he’d been shocked. But it had been the only way to get through it.

Something flashed over Maggie’s features. Pain, maybe.

But . . . why?

“Are you okay?” he asked. “I—”

She wasn’t listening to him, though. Maggie was wiping her hands on a napkin and getting to her feet. “Well, you were amazing. You did great work, and I’m so glad you were there for Tasha. I’m going to head up to my room.”

It was like running into a sliding glass door he hadn’t known was there. A force field. One of those electric fences you use to keep dogs in your backyard.

He suddenly felt very much like a dog.

“You okay?” he repeated, feeling foolish.

“Of course. It was just a long day. I ought to get some sleep.” Maggie didn’t make eye contact with him, and her voice was higher than normal. Strained.

Cole knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he figured out what he’d done to piss off Maggie—because it wasn’t nothing. He drained his beer. “I’ll walk out with you.”

She hadn’t waited for him, and it was good that his legs were longer than hers because he caught up with her in the breezeway between the pub’s interior and exterior doors. When the interior door closed behind Cole, muffling the din from inside, they were left in the dark.

Maggie had stopped walking—maybe she’d decided there was no way to avoid this conversation—and he almost ran into her.

His hands hovered over her shoulders for a second. In comfort? A plea? He didn’t even know. “Maggie, it feels like you’re mad at me. Just tell me what I did so I can say sorry and fix it.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” She spoke over her shoulder, her voice wry. “If I’m mad at anyone, it’s myself.”

“Why would you be mad at yourself?”You’re perfect.He couldn’t say that. It wasn’t professional. It wasn’t his place. But knowing those things didn’t stop him from thinking it.

You’re perfect. You’re perfect.

“You ever have a feeling crop up out of nowhere and catch you in the teeth? Like a—a rock getting kicked up by a truck on the highway that cracks your windshield?”

“Yeah.” But those feelings? He tended to have earned them. “What was the feeling, Maggie?” They were on the cusp of something here, something massive and important. He could sense the edges of it in the dark.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I want to know.”

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