Page 71 of InfraRed

“I’m bored and going stir crazy,” he laughs. “It doesn’t take much, but with the tour canceled and we’re not currently recording, I’m getting antsy. It’s not good for me to become restless.”

“So you’ve been coming to watch them rehearse?”

“Among other things. Quinn is ready to drag me back to the lake house. I find more to keep me occupied there. We’ve just stayed in the city for the label, but you’re here now, right? I’ll go back to the lake house for a few weeks, take care of the animals, ride the four-wheelers… whatever the hell I can find to fuck up.”

“Four-wheeler?”

He rolls his blue eyes. “Quads. ATVs. Whatever. I’m from Louisiana. We call them four-wheelers.”

“I forgot you’re not from here.”

“Laissez les bon temps rouler, coullion.”

“Right.”

Masters’ wife appears and wraps her arms around his waist. “Ready?”

He kisses the top of her head and nods, then looks at me. “Just do me a favor. When you tell Liam, don’t do it in the office?”

“Why? You can’t possibly be afraid of a little scandal.”

“No. But all that glass is a bitch to replace.”

He leaves just as they begin filming the other scenes.

Casey playing the role opposite Maverick means she’s the love interest of the production. Which also means he has to touch her. It takes me about five seconds to realize, acting or not, I want to rip his arms off and beat him with them. But I can’t—won’t ruin this for her, so I slip away to a far corner to answeremails.

After a couple of hours, I run out of emails and anything else I can do from my phone. Of course, the moment I step out of the shadow where I can see what’s going on, Casey steps out of a double pirouette to Maverick right in front of her. My teeth grind, knowing what’s coming, the scene from the script playing out in front of me.

Even though the person in the hoodie is meant to be death in the form of the female love interest, in this scene, death tricks her, appearing as the man she loves. Though the audience only sees a dark figure, never his face. It’s supposed to be hot and seductive.

I tell myself to calm down. It’s only acting. It’s not fucking real.

Then, as my feet propel me forward, I convince myself it’s not white-hot jealousy. It’s business. It’s an interest in production, not Maverick gripping her wrist and pressing her into the mirror as he hooksmyleg over his hip. I’m ensuring we’re getting the quality product we’re paying for. It has nothing to fucking do with Maverick burying his goddamn face in her neck.

“Now kiss her,” the director calls out.

Nope.

I take it all back.

This is absolutely fucking jealousy.

This is a chronic fucking case ofmine.

I’m going to punch someone in the goddamn face.

“We… That’s not what we rehearsed,” Casey says, pushing Maverick away before their lips meet. “I have a boyfriend.”

Well damn.

My steps stall behind the boom tech when she makes the declaration. Sure, she didn’t say my name, but she said she has a boyfriend. I’m not sure how to feel about the way mystomach just somersaulted and the way my heart stuttered over something so simple. I don’t love the phrase. It doesn’t feel like a good enough—a strong enough word, but fuck, it makes me giddy as a damn fourteen-year-old boy.

But this is Casey, and that one word from her mouth is a big damn deal.

“It’s acting,” Andre tells her. “He’ll get over it.

She shakes her head, taking another step away from Maverick, and looks the director in the eyes. I’ve always loved how she does that. She may be trembling on the inside, but she tries to keep her head high. I will give Liam credit for that because I know if Krista had her way, Casey would always be cowering in a corner.

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