My eyes sweep to the tan raincoat draped over the sofa. I narrow my eyes. He was outside the coffee shop.
I narrow my eyes. “Have you been following me?”
Oh, I’m on to you.
Gabe’s gaze flicks to Harrison. Then back to me.
“Tell her,” Harrison says, like there’s a massive elephant in the room and somehow only Gabe can see it.
Gabe rubs the back of his neck. “Okay,” he says. “I will.” He blows out a long, frustrated breath.
Fear starts to thrum in my ears. “Whatever it is, you should probably just tell me,” I say. “You’re kind of freaking me out.”
His big, brown, concerned eyes meet mine. “Don’t freak out.”
The room seems to drop ten degrees. I rub my arms, struggling to pull words together through the stammering panic climbing my chest.
“I’ve barely slept,” I say. “I flinch every time my phone buzzes. I check the locks so many times I lose count. I spent the entire day out in public just to prove I’m not afraid of my own shadow.”
My voice wobbles despite my best effort.
“But I am.”
Tears blur my vision before I can stop them.
“Gabe, if you’re about to tell me that son of a bitch is in New York,” I say, my chest tight, “I swear I’m going to lose it?—”
“Harrison wants to be an actor,” he blurts out.
“What?” Harrison’s expression turns lethal.
I take a deep breath. “You do?” I ask, as relief suddenly pours out of my entire system.
“Does he ever,” Gabe says quickly, patting his chest like this physically pains him. “He’s just incredibly shy about it. And he doesn’t want a word getting out, because, you know, people like me would give him endless shit at the office if we knew this was his secret dream. So, he needs to follow you around for a few days. Closely. Every step. Isn't that right Harrison?”
Is it?
Because for all the things I can imagine Harrison Evans doing, acting doesn’t even crack the top hundred.
Model? Hell yeah. Sign me up for the calendar.
But acting?
Harrison shoots Gabe the death glare to end all death glares, presumably for outing his deeply guarded secret.
Then the big, burly lumberjack finally tells the truth.
“Yes,” he says flatly, arms folded tight. “I’m ready for my close-up.”
A laugh bursts out as I swipe at a tear. “Not with that Grumps McGrump expression, you’re not.”
Gabe claps his hands together and rubs them briskly.
“Then it’s settled.”
He grins, squeezing my shoulder in that unmistakably brotherly way.
“And you, baby sis, have absolutely nothing to worry about.”
