Page 143 of Late Harvest

Bash’s jaw dropped. “And you just figured this out?”

“Been working on it for a couple months.”

“Arabella, am I drunk?” he whispered, defaulting to comedy, as was his habit whenever he was feeling pushed back on his heels. “Did you addle my brains with your bewitching body?”

“No,” she whispered, giggling softly. “But that can be arranged,” she added, for his ears only, with a come-hither look.

Bash waggled his brows at his wife, forcing himself to refocus on his friend’s mic drop. “It’s not often I’m at a loss for words⁠—”

“Tell me about it,” Slash teased, his voice noticeably lighter now that all the hard news had been delivered.

“Slash…Guinn…brother. I don’t know what to say.”

“How about congratulations, and you’re happy for me. And that while I won’t be your agent, I’ll always be your friend and brother.”

Bash opened and closed his mouth, then nodded, though there was no video to the call. “Of course. Congratulations, Guinn. That’s awesome. I’m…I’m really happy for you. Truly.”

“Same, Bash. Hey, look at us, finally growing up,” Slash joked, pulling a laugh from Bash. “I’m getting a grown-up job and shedding my ridiculous Hollywood shackles. You’re all wifed up and lovey dovey.”

Bash had to admit, things were changing very quickly, and all for the better.

“Speaking of your wife…” Slash paused, and when he continued, genuine remorse filled his words. “Remy, I owe you a sincere apology. I treated you beyond poorly, and you didn’t deserve that. The fact is, I didn’t trust you at first—and that’s on me, not on you. I’ve spent decades watching very convincing, but ultimately lying leeches come out of the woodwork to try to exploit Bash. He’s a good man, but that kindness also makes him vulnerable. It’s been my job to watch out for him.”

“I’m not a child, Guinn,” Bash gritted out.

“No, but you are a famous and wealthy star, and that’s made you a target. No one could, or should, handle that on their own. You need someone to watch your blind side. And since college, that’s been me. Anyway, I took my protectiveness too far—first with Walt and then with Remy.

“Remy, I’m truly sorry. I know you love him. Anyway, for what it’s worth, I know I was a total dick. And I feel like shit about it.”

“Dickcrud,” Bash muttered, the corners of his lips tugging in a smile. Dude could be an ass. But he was also his best friend. And a good person. Just…sometimes a bit dickcrudish.

Arabella met Bash’s gaze and smiled softly. “I accept your apology, Slash. Let’s put it behind us. And I, for one, am grateful for all you’ve done for my husband over the years. Anyone who cares that deeply for him is OK in my book.” Bash watched his wife straighten her spine, her arms folding in Arabella Stance. Based on that and the cool smirk sliding onto her face, Slash was about to be on the receiving end of a patented Dr. Remington Special. “But be fucking respectful to me going forward or I’m coming for you with my scapels.”

Yep. Christ, that was hot.

Bash grinned at his wife, laughing reflexively at Slash’s chortle on the other end of the line.

Until the practical ramifications of Slash’s announcement hit him and his laughter died out.

Bash pinched the bridge of his nose. “Guess I’m on the hunt for a new publicist and a new agent.”

“Not necessarily,” Benny cut in smoothly. “If you’re interested, Bash, I’ll be happy to represent you.”’

“You mean your firm, right? You’ve always been clear about only wanting to represent women.” Bash stared at his phone.

“I think it’s the season for change, no?” Benny’s disembodied voice carried a smile. “I’d be honored to represent you, Bash. As long as you aren’t worried about conflict of interest, given that your sister is also my client.”

“I hardly think we’ll be up for the same roles, Benoîte,” Bash teased, suddenly feeling so light he might float away. Only Arabella’s arms, securely wrapped around him, anchored him to the moment and its implications.

And it was an amazing feeling.

“Then so let it be done. I’ll hop right on finding you a new publicist. I have some names in mind.”

“Of course you do,” Slash muttered, and Bash could practically see his friend’s eyeroll. Slash might be hanging up his agent-shark hat, but he was still a competitive SOB.

“I’m going to hang up now and make love to my wife before I have to report to the set.” Bash winked at Arabella, who blushed beautifully.

“Deepest appreciation for the overshare, Sebastian,” Benny muttered. The call disconnected.