“I mean, Reddit says that’s in their contract, but I think they care more about good TV than anything else so…”
“And now I feel icky.” I wrinkle my nose and grab a handful of popcorn, shove it in my mouth to cure the guilt I’m curating for watching shows that likely take advantage of their cast members.
“In fairness to that moral code of yours I see has been piqued,” Kylie murmurs. “I think the people on this particular show also care about good TV more than anything else—well, that and getting peeps over to their OnlyFans.”
My brows flick up. “That’s an awfully cynicaltake.”
She sighs, shrugs. “Well, I find that I’m feeling more than a little cynical tonight.”
I snag the remote, hit pause. “Spill.”
“Ignore me,” she says. “I’m tired from moving all day?—”
“And shopping,” I add, trying to get her to smile.
It works, but it’s not a real smile.
Damn.
“And shopping,” she murmurs. Her gaze is on her glass, and I watch the liquid slosh slightly as she slowly spins the stem between thumb and forefinger. “Anyway, this is supposed to be a celebration. You and the team are leaving in a couple of days, Damon’s doing the same tomorrow, zipping around the country, doing GM things before catching up with you, and I’m”—she lifts the back of her hand to her forehead—“the poor soul who’s going to be left all alone.”
I nudge her knee with mine. “Nice try. Your social calendar is busier than my work one.”
“Nah, that’s just because you’re an introvert who likes to spend an inordinate amount of time in your bathtub?—”
I don’t mention that her brother is responsible for my growing love for bathtubs, nor the talents he displays for drawing out my pleasure while I’m soaking in them.
No need to scar her.
“—I’m going to be all alone.” A beleaguered sigh. “So very alone.”
“Is this you trying to get an invitation to our trip to New York?”
She waggles her brows. “Is there shopping in New York?”
I steal her wine glass, down the last inch of chardonnay (we’ve gone through our stock for this evening).
“Hey!”
I set it on the table then turn to face her, fixing herin place with my most intense Coach Stare—the one that never fails to get my players to spill their guts. “Tell me,” I order quietly.
“That you can have my wine?” A scowl. “Fine. You can have my wine.” A beat. “Even though it’s already in your stomach.”
“Kylie, honey, please just talk to me.”
Her eyes cut to the side, avoiding mine for a long moment.
Then she sighs and looks back at me, her blue eyes piercing into mine. “If I promise to tell you, I need you to promise me something in return.”
Heart skipping a beat, I take her hand. “I promise.”
She sighs, eyes drifting away and back again. Then she says something that has the bottom dropping out of my world.
“Hiller’s going to get away with it.”
“Please don’t leave,”Kylie says as she follows me out to the parking lot of the apartment complex.
My head is spinning.
