Page 91 of Late Harvest

“I thought you were named after the crab in The Little Mermaid.” Her delivery was so perfectly deadpan it took him a moment to absorb the roast. Then he burst into laughter.

“Brat!” He tugged on a toe that bore chipped, pale pink varnish from the in-suite couples pedicure Jared had arranged for the morning of the race. He was relieved to see the laughing smile on her face at her joke. “I was born in 1977, I’ll have you know. More than a decade before that movie.”

“Eh, details,” she teased, throwing her head back and laughing at the fake scowl on his face. “Keep talking, old man.”

“Anyhooo,” he continued, as if oblivious to her burn, but secretly loving it, “it was the official start of my career. I went to NYU that fall, studied my craft, did some plays with my parents over my summer breaks. Just…soaked it all in.

“After I graduated, I shifted into movies full time. Most of my roles were intentionally smaller. I wanted to show my chops. Being a Wheatley, all you hear about is nepotism. And I was determined to prove otherwise.”

He paused, an old, familiar frustration building within. “My dad is known as the quintessential Shakespearean and dramatic actor. Mom and Aunt Meryl are in a class of their own⁠—”

“Wait—whoa there. Tell me you don’t refer to Meryl freaking Streep as Aunt Meryl?!”

Bash wanted to kiss that charmingly incredulous face until she melted in his arms. Instead, he kept going, quite certain his angel needed the ongoing distraction. “She’s like family.” He shrugged. After all, Aunt Meryl put on her pants one leg at a time, just like everyone else. She just did it with any perfect accent she wanted and in a way that was unique and compelling. “Anyhoo, back to the story. Focus, my queen.” He winked. “When I was twenty-eight, Honor rebelled—magnificently I might add—and ran off to take the role that won her an Oscar right out of the chutes.” He smiled fondly.

“I never saw that movie.” Arabella’s quiet comment interrupted his wool-gathering.

“I feel like you’re the only person in the world then. It was—she was incredible. A star-making role for sure.”

“I’m pretty sure I was deeply immersed in my medical training at that point. Not a lot of time for going to the movies.”

She watched him closely, and they held gazes for a powerful beat—like she knew he needed a second. Arabella moved her feet off him and motioned for him to place his feet in her lap.

Those talented, dexterous fingers got to work immediately, and Bash almost groaned aloud at the sensual pleasure of her hands. He rested his head against the cushion, smiling at the sound of Chicane dashing around.

Hearing it too, Arabella chuckled softly. “Tell me about her debut role?”

“Honor played the teenage daughter of missionaries who are abducted. Instead of falling apart, she helps the SEAL team find them with her knowledge of the country and culture. Badass. And a big difference in a first role from a clown.”

“Sebastian…” Arabella sighed. “That’s not fair. You said yourself you loved the role. I recently heard someone say that you’ll always fall short when you compare yourself to anyone else. Because you can only be yourself, and your journey is uniquely your own,” she added, with a satisfied smile.

“What’s that cute little look for?”

“I just paraphrased my—someone who is in sort of a—a club with me and another woman from work. She’s passionate about leaning into your true self. Nell. You met her at the shelter.”

“Curvy woman? Bombshell copper hair?”

Arabella raised a brow.

“I didn’t check her out, my queen. But I do recall thinking she looked like a woman in a Titian painting. Also…what club are you in? Color me intrigued.”

“Eh.” Arabella waved a hand. “Later. More about you, please.” She batted her eyelashes at him and he barked a laugh, echoed by Chicane’s chittering in the pen—which then got Arabella going.

How was it he had never experienced the simple pleasure of basking in unmasked laughter with a stunning woman?

So many wasted years.

Except…it was hard to consider them a waste if they were the steps that led him to Arabella.

“The week of Honor’s first movie release, I was offered two lead roles. Both were rock solid. Potentially powerhouse. One was a drama. The other a romcom. That was a seminal moment in my career. You have to realize that, at that point, there was so much acting hardware between my parents, it was bonkers.” He chuckled. “My dad arranges them all in funny little tableaus for my mom.” Bash’s affection for his parents was a blessing. Yes, his upbringing had been unconventional. But at least it was anchored by two loving—albeit very dramatic—parents. “The buzz about Honor was off the charts. Dad and Mom had just pulled in his-and-her Tony awards for their adaptation of The Scottish Play⁠—”

“Macbeth?” Arabella clarified.

“Sssh!” he whispered dramatically. “It’s bad luck to say the name. You’ll invite disaster.”

“Really?” She folded her arms, assuming the Arabella Pose, one eyebrow arched high.

“Eh, technically only inside a theater. But why chance it, I always say.”