My head snaps down to her. "Tomorrow?"
I turn to Grant, my eyes wide in a mix of surprise and amusement. He just shakes his head, his lips twitching like he's holding back a smile.
"Ok, then," I say, exhaling. "I guess we better get started as soon as you get home today. I'll be here by four o'clock. You get the snacks ready, and I'll bring some suggestions for you."
Hazel throws herself at me for another hug, making me stumble back with a laugh.
"You're the best, Sophia!"
Grant clears his throat. "Let's go, nugget. I need to get going."
Hazel grabs his hand, and they head down the driveway toward his car. I should turn away, go back inside, and shake off whatever this morning has done to me, but I don't.
I watch as he buckles her into her booster, moving with care and ease. And then, like he knows I'm still watching, he looks back at me. Our eyes meet again, and for a beat too long, neither of us moves.
A shiver runs down my spine, and anticipation curls in my stomach. Then, as if the moment needs a closing note, Grant smirks and says, "Don't be late this afternoon. Hazel's serious about those snacks."
It's so simple, so normal, but the way he says it, the way his voice dips just enough to make it feel like something else entirely, sends heat licking up my spine.
"I wouldn't dare," I say, my lips curving.
He holds my gaze for another second and then slides into the driver's seat before pulling away.
I stand there longer than I should, my fingers gripping the doorframe, my heart racing. I was going to go for a run and burn off some of this restless energy, but now I just want to relive the memory of his lips on me.
Or better yet, do it all over again.
twenty-four
. . .
Grant
"Morning,"I say, deliberately focusing on the contract revisions spread across my desk. "If this is about the Elle production, I already talked to?—"
"This isn't about the production." Lucas drops into one of the chairs across from me and crosses one leg over the other. "This is about the wrap party forPink Slipthis weekend. The one you attended. The one I didn't know you were attending."
"And that's a problem?"
"I think it's interesting you happened to be on the lot. For a wrap party. On a weekend." Lucas's eyebrow inches higher.
I keep my face carefully neutral.
Lucas shakes his head. "I have a Google alert set up for anything involving you, and you're lucky it didn't blow up. However, I did hear about your appearance from Monica in marketing, who heard it from her friend atVariety, who was apparently fascinated by how much time you spent talking to Sophia Ford."
The pen in my hand stills. I'm calculating potential damage—not to myself, but to her. Sophia's first major production. Her first time producing. One wrong move, one misinterpreted interaction, could destroy everything she's worked for. This proves that it's a bad idea for us to go any further than we've already gone.
"It was a party, Lucas. People talk at parties."
"People do talk at parties," he agrees mildly. "They also notice things, like how you swooped in to rescue her from Blaze Winters or how you both were deeply entrenched in conversation for twenty minutes after that."
Shit. I didn't think it would seem unusual. I'd been careful—or thought I had been. But more importantly, I'd been protective. Blaze has a reputation, and Sophia doesn't need that kind of attention.
"Is there a point to this?" I ask, though I know exactly where this is going.
Lucas leans forward and gives me his serious face. "Grant, you know I respect your privacy. Whatever is or isn't happening between you and Sophia is your business, but my job is to protect you and this studio from any PR disasters, and I can't do that if I'm blindsided."
The word "disasters" echoes in my mind. But I'm not thinking about potential damage to me. I'm thinking about Sophia—how vulnerable she is right now, how much this could cost her.
