Page 101 of Evidence of a Folktale

“I used to work for the NYPD,” she said instead. “I’m also workingthiscase. I’ve seen enough for a lifetime.”

“NYPD?” he repeated. “That’s sexy.”

Bel wondered if it would be inappropriate to smack him upside the head.Maybe she shouldjustpress her necklace’s panic button.

“My father was the chief of police.” She stared pointedly at the actor. Other women might kill to be in her shoes, but she was too frustrated with this case and her aching feet to be swept up by Hollywood’s favorite boyfriend.

“We should add that backstory to Taron’s character,” he said. “Make her father her inspiration. Good idea.” He shifted to face her. “Are you hungry? How about you and I?—”

“Reds,” a writer interrupted before he finished asking her out. “Can I run tomorrow’s scenes by you? They don’t work anymore because of the changes we made today.”

“Sure, give me a second.” Beau returned his attention to her.

“Reds?” Bel asked before he could resume his line of questioning.

“It’s a nickname,” he said. “Well, not exactly. It was my birth name, but Reds doesn’t scream movie star. I changed it to Draven, but the nickname stuck.”

“Reds.” Bel nodded, not entirely sure why that felt significant.

“Yeah, so anyway. Since we both have to eat, and you’re here for my protection, we should?—”

“Hey, I wasn’t sure how late you’d be, so I figured I’d stop by to ask if you were coming home for dinner or if I should eat on my own?” a calculated voice asked, cutting Beau off as a massive hand slid against her spine.

“We’re done here, right, Mr. Draven?” Bel said, loving how his eyes almost popped out of their sockets atthe sight of Eamon suddenly hovering over him. It seemed Mr. Stone was better at hiding in the shadows than she’d realized. She hadn’t even noticed him enter the library.

“Filming?” he asked. “For today, yes.”

“Then I’ll be home for dinner unless Griffin needs me,” she answered Eamon’s deliberate question. “I just have to escort Mr. Draven to thebed-and-breakfastfirst.”

“Excellent.” Eamon didn’t kiss her, but by the look in his eyes, he should’ve. It would’ve been less erotic if he’d just pressed his lips to hers, and Bel gave up trying to hide her blush.Seemedshe didn’t need to press her panic button. Eamon had arrived to stake his claim, and he’d done so without a puffed chest or aggression.He’dsimplyasked about food, and everyone present knew who she belonged to.Or should she say who he belonged to because the adoration in his death-black eyes swore his allegiance to her?

“I’ll wait for you to discuss the script, and then I’ll escort you to the inn,” Bel said, and with a nod, Beau retreated, clearly not interested in going toe to toe with a man who, unlike the characters in this show, could beat him in a fight.

“What are you doing here?” She asked as the actor joined the writer across the library. “I thought you had to work.”

“And leave you alone with Beau Draven?” Eamon said. “I’m not that stupid.”

Bel rolled her eyes.

“No, I stopped by the hardware store, so I was down the street,” Eamon explained as he took her hand and pulled her toward the front door. “I’m trying to restore the dumbwaiter I found.”

“You found a dumbwaiter?”

“Of course I did. All old estates had them.”

“Please say it’s salvageable because I need to live in a house with one.”

“Live?” Eamon’s eyes brightened until his black irises looked almost grey.

“Yeah, yeah.” Bel waved a dismissive hand. “Can you fix it?”

“I’m trying. I was working on it between calls and realized I was missing parts. It’s late, and since Cerberus is at my place, I wanted to checkon your plans. Glad I did.” He winked at her. “If I hadn’t, I might have lost you to another man.”

“You ruined my shot.” She shook her head in mock disappointment.

“Oh well.” Eamon unlocked his truck and slipped into the driver’s seat. “Guess you’re stuck with me.”

“Oh, the horror.” Bel leaned forward and planted a kiss on his lips. “But seriously, perfect timing. Thanks.”

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