Page 75 of Until Then

“You as well.” I shake his hand and take a seat on the opposite side of the table.

“Rob’s been talking you up,” Shane says, making a one-finger summons to a waiter. He waits for the server to pour wine before he goes on. “Your work on the small screen speaks for itself, of course.”

“Three-time nominated for best male lead in a drama series,” Rob says.

He’s always the man to have if one needs to brag about their accomplishments.

Shane hums and takes a sip of his wine. His eyes are nearly the same hazel as Hayley’s, only colder, harsher.

Two more nights. She’ll be back in two more nights. In the meantime, I’ll get over this storm in my head.

Shane returns his wine glass to the table. “Nominations are fine. But it’s the win you want.”

“That’s the hope,” Rob agrees, always reaching for the segue to sell me. “With a Holston film, he’ll get there. No doubt.”

Again, Shane studies me like I’m an ant he’s about to squash. Not really surprising. These big shots typically keep a certain arrogant propriety about them. They’re the kings and queens of movie sets. They want us miserable paupers to know it.

Finally he breaks a cocky smile. “I can appreciate a man who does anything to reach for what he wants. Your little video certainly caught my attention.”

What? I arch a brow. “Video?”

“At the ranch.”

“Oh.” Thoughts of the day Hayley agreed to be mine for real always brings a natural smile. “That’s my girlfriend. She’s an occupational therapist.”

Why did the video with Colt catch a director’s attention?

Shane chuckles. It’s not warm. “I’m aware of who she is. Although I appreciate the tenacity, maybe cut things off. We’re talking now. No need to hurt her unnecessarily.”

What is this guy on? “I don’t understand. I have no intention of hurting my girlfriend. Honestly, I don’t know what she has to do with any of this.”

A furrow gathers between Shane’s brows. “Rob, help me. Is he acting? If so, he’s very good.”

Unease, settles in my chest. This is . . . off. I don’t let my agent respond before I go on. “I’m not acting. What does Hayley have to do with any of this.”

Shane scoffs, annoyed. “You don’t know?”

“Know what, Mr. Holston?”

“You weren’t trying to get my attention by being with her?” The confusion in his features only deepens.

My knee bounces beneath the table. “What? No. I plan to be with the woman until I’m dead. Probably even after. What’s going on?”

A rise of something heated, something protective, about Hayley draws my fingers into a fist under the table. I don’t like all these guys talking about her.

I don’t like the insinuation I’m with her to get parts.

None of it makes sense.

For a pause no one speaks. Until Shane takes up his wine, and faces the others at the table. “Excuse us please. I think I need to speak to Mr. Hayden alone.”

Rob starts to protest, but Shane cuts him a sharp stare. One by one, the other suits—my representation included—leave the dining room.

Awkward pressure builds like a squall between me and Shane Holston.

He swirls his wine glass. “You have a reputation of speaking against behaviors of your superiors on sets, don’t you, Mr. Hayden? You’re bold. Outspoken. But very good at what you do.”

“Sir, I’ll speak out if people behave poorly. Now, with all respect—why did you excuse everyone?”

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