Page 30 of Beautiful Storm

He walks away, and I hold my breath until he’s gone, my body deflating as soon as the door clicks shut again, the tension finally leaving me.

I take a deep breath, but I’ve barely had a chance to process what just happened when the door flies open again and our director of photography walks in, beelining straight for me.

“What’s the plan for today, Boss?” he asks as he drops down into the seat opposite me, pulling out his notepad. “It’s a day of observations, right?”

“Observations, yes,” I rush out, hoping I don’t appear too flustered while inside my heart is still racing. “We’ll take some photos and… ah… After that we have a meeting with the coaching staff.”

“Eh.” Craig scrunches his face as though disgusted by the idea. “I’m not all that interested in another ‘you better not get in the way’ speech. Do they think we’re stupid? I’ve been filming documentaries for years, some focusing on subjects that didn’t know they were subjects. I can be discreet.”

“I know you can. And I know you’ll keep the crew in line. But they’re nervous. It’s a huge year for them, and they don’t need any distractions.”Wow, look at me paraphrasing or maybe stealing Thomas’s words.I run the words through my head again. Thomas was right. They don’t need us to take away from their efforts for the Super Bowl; they need us to be a part of it.

“On the way to the top.”

“What?”

Shit, I didn’t mean to voice that.I’m a little all over the place. “I was thinking out loud. Trying to find an angle for the show.”

Craig stares at me, confused. “I thought we had an angle?”

“We did. We do. It’s just an idea.”

The network wants a day-in-the-life style show and I understand why that would appeal. Reality television is a moneymaker right now. Those real estate shows where they just follow the realtors around are killing it. But they’re not entirely organic, and we can’t script drama here at the club. Well, we could, but as a fan of football, I will never let that happen.Eventhough the Storm isn’t my team. And even though, as Luke said, I have information on him specifically. I’d never share it. There has to be something better. Something more gripping. Something that only comes from following a team that just might make it all the way to the top.

We spend the next week mostly out of sight—planning, observing, choosing locations—so for the most part, I’m able to pretend Luke doesn’t exist, mostly, except when I find myself daydreaming about our time together.

Damn him and his expert hands…and mouth.

When we’re halfway through the second week of preproduction, it’s time to start our one-on-one chats with the players, and I can’t wait. The more I get to know them, the easier it will be to create a story and the more receptive they’ll be to give me what I need. I’m excited to get into it, but I have one complaint—everyonelovesLuke.

So of course, he’s up first.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Luke - Age Sixteen

Ipace my yard, my head reeling from the events of last night—from the fire—and I’m nauseous. What a fucking mess. It was supposed to be a fun night. A way to let off steam while also getting back at Amelia for the bullshit she put me through over the years.

The house wasn’t supposed to go up in flames. I just wanted to challenge her. Nothing more.

A vision of the fire burns my retinas as another wave of guilt hits me.

Blowing out a breath, I run my hands down my face as someone opens the back door, drawing my attention.

Mom.

No doubt coming to check that I’m still here. That I haven’t snuck away like I wish I could.

We stare in silence until she purses her lips and hits me with a look of disappointment before walking inside.

My chest tightens but I deserve it, and I understand where it’s coming from. Her firstborn—the kid that's supposed to be smart—got himself arrested. I’d be disappointed too.

Only I didn’t getmyselfarrested. That was all Amelia. While I put myself in the line of fire to help her—running directly to the police—she decided she’d screw me over when she got herself caught, and I’m fucked if anyone else speaks out. A lot of people are.

My muscles tense as I think about Amelia again. But instead of the deep hate I want to feel, my stupid mind replays our kiss and my traitorous heart races.What was I thinking?Actually, I wasn’t thinking. I was reacting, and for some reason, I couldn’t stop myself. She’s the only one outside of my family that I’ve ever felt protective of, and this time that led to dangerous territory.

But never again.

I want to hate her. I’ve always wanted to hate her, but no matter how hard I try, there’s something stopping me.

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