Bang. Bang. Bang.
“If you two ate all the churros, I will kill you,” Gabe shouts through the door.
Without missing a beat, Harrison calls back, “Your sister ate them.”
And just like that, another pillow smacks him in the head.
CHAPTER 36
Ava
It feels like we’ve been walking forever. Like this is New York’s preferred method for punishing tourists and the weak.
I’m in a simple white dress I thought would be perfect for the shots. The skirt falls softly just above my knees, and pairs nicely with my ballet slippers.
Harrison is in a suit. A very attractive one.
Navy suit. Crisp shirt. Beard trimmed down to controlled stubble. For a sinfully rugged man, he wears a suit like a second skin.
Of course, he looks good in anything.
He tore off his blazer a block ago. It’s unusually warm today. Hot, by New York standards. Neither of us needs a coat.
Which is fine. I’m pretty sure we hit ten thousand steps twenty minutes ago.
Not that I’m complaining. I’m leaning into my brief era as a New York City pedestrian. Especially since walking in LA is less cardio and more of an extreme sport.
“Tell me again why Travis couldn’t drive us,” Harrison says.
“For a former SEAL, you’re remarkably whiny,” I shoot back. “And if we drive everywhere, I miss all of this.” I gesture broadly. “The hot dog stands. The people. The quaint coffee shops.” I beam.
“The trash bags. The dog piss. A prophet on every corner, screaming the world is coming to an end.”
I ignore him and keep my eyes on my phone, letting the little blue dot lead the way. I punched in the address ahead of time so we’d be early.
Because being early matters.
First on set controls the narrative. And I am very much getting out in front of whatever bullshit theatrics Pierce is planning.
Also, quietly checking any natural barriers I can put between Harrison and him.
Not that I’d lose sleep if something atrocious happened to the prick. But until the premiere, Pierce Maddox needs to stay alive.
“Are you ever going to tell me what I said?” I ask.
“What you said?” Harrison repeats, maneuvering around a woman walking five dogs.
“The text I sent you.”
“Oh. That.” He shrugs. “You said, if flannel is wrong, I don’t want to be right.”
I laugh out loud. “Seriously. What did I say?”
“I believe your exact words were, wood is my happy place.”
A woman passing us stares.
We rush past her and lose it.
