Page 19 of Evidence of a Folktale

“Still the best of us.” He leaned down and captured her frozen lips in a kiss.

“I’m on duty,” she whispered against his mouth.

“Everyone’s looking at the on-screen couple,” he reasoned as he deepened the kiss.

“You keep kissing me like this, and they won’t be.” She nipped his lip before shoving him away.

“Cut!” the director shouted.

“Check the gate!” the assistant director said.

“I recognize that phrase,” Bel said. “They’re done shooting. I hope that means lunch soon. I am freezing and need a scalding hot coffee. Want to grab one with me?”

“I can’t. It’s why I stopped by to say hi,” Eamon said. “I have a videoconference with a client that won’t be quick. You might as well stay at your place tonight.”

“Okay.”

“And Check the Gate means they’re ready to move on from a shot because it was a signal to the cameramen to double-check the camera and film. I’m no expert, so don’t ask me what the gate is, but they call that out because if dust or something gets into it, it’ll ruin the take. If they finished filming without checking it, all their work could be lost. Equipment has evolved over the years, but the phrase is still used.”

“Look at you.” Bel smiled at him. “You hate being filmed or photographed, so how do you know that?”

“I become someone new every few lifetimes, and I spent time in Hollywood before cell phones made it impossible to fly under the radar.”

“Have you ever worked as a cop?” she asked. “Because I’d be embarrassed if you’d been one and were just playing dumb to make me feel smart.”

“Actually,I’ve never been a police officer,” Eamon said.

“Oh, thank god,” she laughed. “But why not?”

“Me? A cop?”

“You’re right, that is ridiculous.” Bel collapsed against his chest, shaking despite her thick coat.

“All right, that’s lunch!” a voice shouted, and she exhaled into Eamon’s pitch-black overcoat. Hopefully, there weren’t too many outdoor shoots. She wasn’t an actress making the big bucks, and overtime was no longer appealing now that her fingers and toes ached.

“Good luck with your meeting.” She hugged Eamon tighter, secretly wishing the overtime wasn’t mandatory. The air was so bitter that she was willing to take him up on his offer to help her financially. “I need to get something hot to drink before I freak out. This weather reminds me too much of running down that mountain.”

Eamon stiffened in her arms, and she grimaced. She didn’t want him worrying, but it was true. She’d never felt cold like she had when she fled Dr. Blaubart,and itwas one reason she’d spent every night since her return at Eamon’s mansion. She loved the man, and their days together helped them work through their issues, but a small part of her stayed because she was afraid of the chill. Sleeping between him and Cerberus left her sweaty, and while most people hated waking up damp, it was the only thing stopping her from panicking as she rose to consciousness. Keeping this set perimeter was the first time she’d been truly cold since the mountain, and panic was tryingits bestto consume her.

“I’m okay.” She peeled herself off him. “I just need to get inside and find a hot drink.”

“You sure I can’t take you home?” Eamon tugged her hat further down her ears. “I’ll talk to Griffin. He’ll understand, and if he doesn’t, it’s not like he can stop me from taking you.”

“I’ve missed so much work, though, and it isn’t fair to ask the other officers to pick up the slack for me again.”

“I don’t care about everyone else. Do you need to come home?”

“I care about them. And get back on the horse, right?”

“That phrase means to face your fears, not push yourself to the breaking point.”

“I know.” She scanned the crowd, duty warring with trauma inside her.

“If you get too cold, call me,” Eamon said, realizing she was too stubborn to leave. “I’ll bring you soup, tea, a feather quilt, your dog to hug, whatever you need.”

“What about your clients?”

“I’ll put them on hold.”

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