“—completely unacceptable,” Rusty was saying as Arthur squeezed around the café tables toward them. “I don’t care if he danced with some other girl at prom or didn’t put your photo up in his locker, alright? This is a multimillion-dollar production, and Luna said you were aprofessional—”
Emma opened her mouth, ready to tear into him.
Arthur pulled up a grin and slid into place next to Rusty. “Rust! I’m pretty again. Are you ready to go?”
Rusty tried to rearrange his pissed-off expression into the usual encouraging look Arthur was used to. He didn’t do a great job. There was a reason he was a director, not an actor.
“Arthur, buddy.” Rusty pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just give me one second. I’m wrapping things up here.”
“I can see that,” Arthur said smoothly. “Mind if I cut in? I wanted to apologize. I got caught up in the scene and forgot it wasn’t a good idea to grab extras when they’re holding coffee. Hope you’re not too mad at her for a spill, Rust. Could’ve happened to anyone.”
They stared at him. Arthur kept smiling. There was no way they bought this—Emma had obviously done it on purpose. But he could see them processing; he’d given them an out. They just had to take it.
“I had an extra who dropped a cream cheese bagel on my face during a monologue,” Arthur said to Emma. “This is small potatoes. They had to scrub cream cheese out of my fur! This time I just had to change my clothes. No harm done. Right, Rust?”
“Right,” Rusty said slowly. He tugged his cap down harder, a nervous tic he usually only did after at least ten hours on set, and looked back at Emma. “Back to makeup. We’re almost finished with the reset.”
Emma shot Arthur a curious look. He smiled wider, hope flaring in his chest. It was the least hostile look she’d given him since he’d arrived back in Claw Haven. He counted that as progress.
Rusty waited for her to get out of earshot before he leaned in. “Whatever you guys have going on—”
“Had,” Arthur corrected.
“Whatever. Make sure this doesn’t happen again, alright?”
“Of course! Hey…” Arthur bent closer, lowering his voice and hoping that there weren’t any werewolves or vampires listening in from across the room. Super-hearing monsters usually tried not to eavesdrop, but he was famous. He wouldn’t blame them for wanting movie star drama.
“It was a good move, right? Like, it worked. For the scene.”
Rusty hesitated. For a moment, Arthur thought he might’ve actually screwed up.
“It worked,” Rusty said. “You’re doing great, man. Your ex is just crazy.”
Arthur fought down an involuntary wave of annoyance at hearing someone call Emma crazy. He had the strangest urge to tell Rusty to shut his face. Rusty didn’tknowEmma. He didn’t get to call her anything.
“Right,” Arthur said. “Great. I’ll just…”
He hooked a thumb behind him at his mark. Rusty nodded, waving him over. Arthur made his way between the tables to where Jennifer was already sitting, her hair perfect and her makeup untouched.
Arthur sat down, relieved to sink back into character. It was one of his favorite things about acting; everything else fell away. He didn’t have to worry about anything but the script in front of him.
“Ready,” Rusty called. “And…action!”
Arthur started in on his lines. Jennifer tossed hers back. They bounced off each other easily, the chemistry they’d discovered in the screen test blooming to life just like it did with everyone Arthur got paired with.
“There’s an art to it,” Arthur said, trying not to seem too aware of the woman who was heading toward them. “I can prove it.”
He looked at Emma. She was sliding plates of food onto the table, not meeting their eyes. She looked distracted, just like she was directed to.
Arthur leaned into her space. He meant to say it cool and confident like last time. But something changed as the words made their way up his throat.
“Hey, beautiful. I hope that coffee’s as sweet as you.”
Emma froze. On the other side of the table, Jennifer’s brows rose almost imperceptibly.
Shit, Arthur thought. That wasnotthe tone he’d been aiming for. Those words had come out so soft and sweet he was shocked to hear them come from him. That wasn’t his “flirting with a waitress” voice. That was his “love confession scene” voice—humbled and stripped bare. The voice he didn’t bring out until the last third of the movie. Where the hell had that come from?
Arthur was about to sit up and call for another try. But Emma was still staring at him. There was no rage in her face this time. Instead, she looked…flustered. Her cheeks went red and her eyelids fluttered prettily. Then she jerked up and turned away, walking off toward the camera crew.
