“Good,” I said honestly.“Tired.But good.A bunch of the ol’ ladies stopped by today, so she went to lie down.”
“I would need to lie down, too.”I could hear voices in the background.Laughter, movement, the low hum of people who didn’t know they were being recorded.“I’m still at the Social Club.Filming is running late.”
“That’s fine with me, seeing as I’m not the one you’re filming.”
She chuckled.“Yeah, you guys got lucky with Mason and Adley hooking up right away.I just know the fans are going to love those two.Second chance romance.”
Someone loudly called Mac’s name in the background.
She hesitated.“I’ve got to go, but look, if she wakes up dizzy—”
“I can handle it, Mac.Star is safe with me.”
Another pause.
“Thank you,” Mac said quietly.“Really.”
“No problem.”
I ended the call just as the smell hit.
Burnt.
Definitely burnt.
“Shit,” I muttered and lunged for the oven.I opened the oven, and a plume of smoke rolled out.“What the hell?”Sure, I wasn’t cooking all of the time, but I could work an oven to make a pizza.Nuggets and pizza weren’t far off from each other, but for some reason the nuggets were fighting for their lives.
That’s when I felt it.
Not heard.
Felt.
Eyes on me.
I turned.
Star stood in the doorway, leaning lightly against the frame, with her arms crossed loosely over her chest.Her hair was pulled up into a messy knot, with wisps escaping around her face.She looked small in a baggy sweatshirt and her bare feet planted carefully on the tile.
“How long have you been standing there?”I asked.
She smiled faintly.“Long enough to smell something burning.”
“Great.”
She pushed off the frame and shuffled closer.“What are you making?”
“Attempting nuggets and French fries.”
“Attempting,” she repeated.
I shrugged.“I don’t cook much.”
Her brow furrowed.“Gee, I couldn’t tell.”
“I eat at the clubhouse.Or someone else cooks,” I said defensively.
“That checks out,” she laughed as she grabbed a hot pad from the drawer.“What temperature did you set the oven for?”She reached in and pulled out the burnt nuggets and fries.
