Page 199 of Haunt Me

“I insist you do. I’m sure you’re brimming with ideas, but if not… Hmm… Maybe you could do a Dickens adaptation, something Christmas-related?”

“Oh no,” Eden says, suddenly dead serious. “It will be a romance or nothing at all.”

“Romance?” Wes says and I can just imagine the idiot lifting that stupid blond eyebrow of his.

“Yep,” Eden says.

That’s my girl, ladies and gentlemen.

“Could I interest you in something Regency?” Spencer wastes no time in saying. I knew he wouldn’t be able to help himself. He and his Regencies.

“You could.”

“So, there is this series of books, which—”

“The ones you have been adapting?” Eden asks. I know she has been reading them non-stop, even before the news broke out that Weston Spencer was producing a series based on them.

“The very same.” He sounds impressed, as he should.

“I’m listening,” Eden says.

“You can choose whichever story you like.”

“I like the one with the aunts,” Eden says quickly, as if she had the answer ready. I close my eyes. EvenIknow which one she means. It’s theAnne of Green Gablesretelling one. It just came out.

Of course she would pick that one. Anne Shirley is her favorite book heroine—has been since she was a teen. The girl with the red hair, which Anne hated in the book, but Eden loved. There is even a scene in the book where Anne tries to dye her hair a different color. When I think of Eden reading that scene over and over, and looking at her own, dyed hair, which was red underneath the black dye, but she wasn’t allowed to enjoy it… I feel sick.

I didn’t know why she loved that freaking book so darn much back then.

I do now.

The orphan girl. The red hair. It was all there.

“Oh… I loved that one,” Wes replies, oblivious. Eden doesn’t sound emotional or as if she is struggling either.Good.At least I am the only one who is dying in the hallway. They mention the title, and Eden says, in her low, serious voice:

“I want Justin and Theo to play the aunts.” I imagine her leaning in.

“You know, you might be a miracle worker here,” Spencer replies. There is no sign of humor in his voice.He’s being serious. “We might actually get a smile out of Teddy. That is, if he is sober enough to understand what’s happening, of course.”

At that, they both get sad for a second, but then they start giggling again.

“I’ll write it,” Eden says. “Two scenes?”

“Two or three.”

“Anything to see you and Isaiah wearing ruffled shirts,” Eden says, and I get hot all over. I think about how much Wes must be enjoying this, knowing I’m listening in.

Eden knows, too, doesn’t she? Asses, the both of them. Well, not Eden, obviously. She is an angel. Then Weston Spencer, Hollywood’s golden boy and international stupid-head, says:

“Wanna make them wet, too?”

I burst into the room, breathing heavily as if I’ve run a mile. Eden is rosy-cheeked, her cheeks flushed with happiness and shyness and Spencer has that wicked smile on his face. But his eyes are soft, full of concern and tenderness. How I don’t murder him where he stands is beyond me.

“I’ll let Isaiah take over now,” the idiot laughs. “I want to keep my head on my shoulders in case I’m lucky enough to be cast in your Christmas play, Eden.” He salutes me and walks his stupid ass off the room.

But just outside the door, he turns to Eden:

“I can convince Ari to play as well, if you want. A regular part, no stunts.”

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