Page 151 of He's The Reason Why

He sat on the hood of his rental car, a small generic sedan, and watched the parking lot. It was getting hard to ignore the growing sense of hopelessness that gnawed at his gut.

She’d told his assistant she’d be here, but he had no idea if she’d said that before or after the viral video.

He’d brought two venti pumpkin spice lattes to the set, but since he was so early and there was a chill in the air, they weren’t hot anymore. He watched as the early crew arrived, jumping every time a car pulled into the lot. The camera jockeys started setting up equipment, the set crew shifted things into position forthe first scene, and the makeup trailers opened for business. The set came awake and alive as the sun came up, but Piper, the perpetual early bird, still wasn’t there.

It was almost eight when Marshall rolled up. He eyed the two coffees on the hood, now stone cold, and shook his head in disapproval. “How long have you been here?”

“A few hours.” He checked his phone. In the past five minutes, he’d had two phone calls and three texts from people who weren’t Piper.

Marshall took one of the coffees and sipped. “Ugh. Nasty.”

“So don’t drink it.”

“You know you’re insane, right? Certifiable.”

“Don’t care.”

Marshall eyed him. “You’re still going through with this? You’re really using our movie to fix your love life?”

“It’s all I could think of. You have a better idea?”

Marshall held up his hands. “No, no. This is your grave. I’m looking forward to watching you dig your way out.”

“Thanks,” Blake said with heavy sarcasm.

The sound of car tires crunching asphalt caught his attention, and he looked up, his heart pounding with anticipation.

It was exactly eight a.m., and Piper was right on time.

Relief made his heart do a little flip-flop.

Blake slid off the hood of his car. “Round them up.”

Marshall patted his shoulder, then turned toward the rapidly assembling crew. “Okay, party people, time to wake up. We need everyone who’s supposed to be in the casino through hair and makeup and on their marks in thirty. Let’s move.”

Piper emerged from her car wearing black leggings, a cropped black T-shirt, and boots. She looked ready to take the stage, or take over the world, and she walked toward him with determination.

She stopped a few feet away from the car. Close enough to be polite, not close enough to touch. “Hey.”

“Morning.” He kept his tone cool and professional. He couldn’t bring himself to add the good to the morning. He couldn’t tell if she was still mad at him or not, but she was here and that meant everything. “Thanks for coming.”

“I said I’d be here. I meant it.” She frowned slightly. “Didn’t you get the message I sent to your assistant?”

“I’ve been getting a lot of messages.” Nothing sent a message like not answering a man’s calls. “Like the updated budget sheets. Congratulations on the executive producer credit.”

She raised her chin a little in defiance. “Thanks. It’s a good investment.”

He took in a steadying breath. “Piper—”

“Is that for me?” She pointed at the cup waiting for her on the hood.

She’d done the Southern maneuver of politely cutting him off before he could say anything she didn’t want to hear. Maybe she just wanted to let the money subject drop, or maybe she wasn’t interested in an apology about all the things he’d said.

He could play the polite game too, at least until he made her a captive audience on set. “Yeah, but you probably don’t want it. It’s been sitting there for two hours.”

She picked it up and sniffed. “Thanks. We’re doing the dance scene this morning?”

All the things they weren’t saying to each other bubbled underneath the surface, but at least they were talking. It was a start.

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