Page 44 of Summer People
She giggles. “I don’t mind.” She plops onto the mattress next to my dog, who buries his nose in her abdomen.
Fuck. How pathetic is it to be jealous of a damn dog?
I turn, hands in my pockets, and shuffle toward the door.
“Fisher.”
Pulling up short, I spin and meet her eyes. They’re sparkling, but not in the dreamy, wondrous way I’ve seen so many times since she arrived. No, this is an overwhelmed sparkle. Her wide eyes are wet like she might cry if I don’t leave the room.
She swallows audibly, hands buried in Bing’s fur. “Thank you.”
Her voice is so soft and she looks so lost. Fuck. If I don’t get out of the room now, I’ll be in trouble. So I simply nod and head for my office.
Once I’m situated behind my desk again, I get back to work quickly, this time leaving my headphones on the table rather than covering my ears. Just in case she needs me. I expect my focus to still be shit, but oddly enough, knowing Libby is just down the hall settles me.
In less than two hours, my job is done. I push to my feet, stretching. The move rouses Bing, who watches me from his spot on the floor. I hadn’t even heard him come in.
Before heading down to the couch, I stop at my open bedroom door.
Libby’s blond hair is bright against my dark pillow. She’s on her side, facing the door, with her hands tucked under her cheek. Before I can stop myself, I’m at her side, pressing my lips to her forehead.
“Sleep well, Princess.” I straighten and back away. And damn if leaving the room might be the hardest thing I’ve done in a long time.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
libby
The heavy weightsettled against me eases me from unconsciousness. Eyes closed, I turn my head and inhale the warm male scent. It’s clean, with a hint of something spicy.Fisher.I’m cocooned in him.
I blink, forcing my eyes open, surprisingly content with his presence beside me in bed. Vision blurry, I reach out. When I’m met with nothing but empty sheets, I push myself up. Quickly, I discover that my movement is restricted by the giant dog sprawled across my legs. Bing lifts his head and wags his tail, his mouth falling open in the canine equivalent of a smile.
It’s not Fisher keeping me warm, just his dog.
The disappointment that surges is ridiculous. I love dogs. I don’t love Fisher. I should be happy he didn’t sneak into his own bed last night.Thatwould have been a red flag. Besides, Fisher doesn’t even like me. He might tolerate me—and that’s an upgrade from the disdain he showed me until a day or two ago. He may feel this need to protect me—and, strangely enough, I like it—but he doesn’t likeme.
Or maybe he does.
The man is confusing. He barely talks, and when he does, it’s to complain. But he keeps showing up.
At the realization that I was hoping it was Fisher beside me, a pit settles in my stomach. I try to ignore it by stroking Bing’s fur. “Hey, buddy. Thanks for letting me sleep here last night.”
He army crawls up my body, and when we’re face to face, he greets me with sloppy doggy kisses.
Laughter bubbles out of me. I wish I could have a dog. With the hours on set, it’s never been possible. Though I have all the time in the world now. While my agent continues to leave messages about cleaning up my image, I’ve yet to hear a word about potential projects. It seems I’m no longer Hollywood’s darling. My, how quickly the community I’ve been part of my whole life has turned on me.
“You wouldn’t turn on me, would you?”
Bing licks my outstretched hand and lays his head on my chest, his dark eyes fixed on me. No, I don’t suppose this dog would even know how to turn on someone. He’s too loving. Too sweet.
Just like I used to be.
Trusting. Loyal. Naive.
For years I kept my mouth shut and dealt with the unwanted advances, all because I was too afraid to rock the boat.
The job of every person on that set depended upon me. Outside of my dad and Brad’s parents, the only family I ever had worked on set.
And I was right. The moment I said something, the moment I had the audacity to say no, I was fired.
