“I don’t know,” Jennifer replied. “I’m getting used to it.”
She bumped her hip against his. He grinned at her, eyes crinkling. Emma’s grip tightened on her handbag as she remembered kissing those stupid laugh lines last night. The marks he’d left on her twinged—blunt claw marks on her hips, her thighs, her back. She used to touch them every morning in the shower, giddy and hot. There had been a glimpse of that this morning, heat curling in her gut as she ran her hands down her soapy thighs. The marks would be gone soon.
Good riddance,she thought. But it didn’t sound convincing, even in the privacy of her own head. She’d missed him. His cock, sure. But also the way he saw right through her. She thought she’d been doing a good job hiding that she hadn’t gotten any for a while. Then he’d shown up and ruined that. It had taken him a while to learn to see past her anger to what she was hiding under it, but apparently, he still had the knack. She just hoped he didn’t see how pathetic she felt when she thought about how easily he’d left. How much she wanted him around, even as she raged at him. How much she’d missed him despite everything.
“I can teach you a thing or two,” Jennifer said.
Emma blinked. She’d obviously missed a few lines of dialogue while she spaced out. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was. She had barely eaten dinner, and she hadn’t had breakfast yet.
“I bet you can,” Arthur said, voice low.
They were standing soclose. Emma fidgeted as they stared into each other’s eyes, all those cameras trained on them. How the hell did they do this with so many people watching? She wasn’t even in the shot and it was making her skin crawl.
It’s not real, she reminded herself as Arthur and Jennifer drew closer. It didn’t help. She couldn’t stop watching his eyes, so big and soft, watching Jennifer like she was everything. The same way he’d looked at her, once.
Arthur leaned in. Jennifer smiled into the kiss, her pleased hum easily audible even from all the way across the café.
Emma clenched her handbag, the plastic containers pushing hard against each other. It was fake. That was what Arthur did, he faked it until he got what he wanted, no matter who got hurt because of it.
What the hell was she doing here? This was never going to end well. Better to end the fling now, after one night, than let him drag her along for another week.
“Cut,” Rusty yelled. “Alright, let’s do that one again. Jen, this time could you try that last line with a bit more pizzazz?”
Emma wasn’t sticking around for this. She headed quietly for the door.
“Em?” Luna said.
Emma ignored her. Her eyes burned as she strode out onto the snowy street, which was once again bustling with shoppers. It was a twenty-minute walk to her house. The streets had been cleared for most of the trek, but the last stretch would soak her jean cuffs yet again.
“Emma!”
Emma groaned and kept walking.
Arthur caught up fast. She heard him give a brief greeting to someone who was no doubt staring at the big fancy movie star right here in their Podunk little town before he was behind her. Not touching her—not this time.
Emma was grateful. Emma was annoyed. Emma wanted that big hand to close on her shoulder and turn her around, wanted it to sink into her hair, wanted it to warm her cheek like he’d done last night.
“You have a scene to finish,” she reminded him, still walking.
“They can wait,” Arthur said and ducked in front of her. “Where are you off to?”
“Home.” She tried stepping around him. He let her, falling into step beside her.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine.”
He snorted. “You’re upset.”
She didn’t look at him. She could see him smiling out of the corner of her eye, that coaxing smile he pulled up when he could tell someone was mad and was hoping he could charm them out of it.
“I need new clothes,” she said.
“You look great!”
“Well, then, I need a nap.”
“Okay,” Arthur said, laughing at the obvious lie. “When should I expect you back for the grand tour?”
