Page 15 of Steamy on Set

I hold up my phone, and that is all she needs to see before she is making her way over to me. She grabs it from my hand, puts in the code, and brings the email up to her eyes.

“That son of a bitch.” Shucking off her jacket, she slides onto the couch next to me and pulls me into her arms.

I melt into the feeling of her comfort, hoping it takes away some of the sting. As she strokes my arm, I nudge my ego, trying to get it to stand up again. No more calls from me, no more texts. If Christian is done with me, then I’m done with him too.

Chapter 7

WhenIarriveatwork, Mira doesn’t notice the shift in my mood. As we get together for our daily briefing of progress, my inability to focus goes undetected. All I can think about is that email. It sits heavy in my mind, pushing away any other thought that tries to take it’s place. It’s my main focus. So much so that I barely register anything around me.

“So does that sound good?” she asks, ending off a long monologue that I completely missed. I nod, hoping I didn’t just agree to something crazy. I start to stand up, but she puts a hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place.

“Do you think you can meet the delivery man? He should be arriving any minute with some fabric rolls.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

She lets me go and I get up, placing my blank notepad on the table.

“Great. Bring it to the storage room for now.”

I’m almost out of the room when she calls out behind me.

“Don’t forget to prop something up against the door. It automatically locks and you can’t open it from the inside.”

“Noted.” I throw a smile over my shoulder and head towards the front.

I freeze when I reach the delivery man outside. He is standing next to five rolls, all big, long and full of fabric. They look like they’re going to be a pain in my ass. Why Mira thinks I’ll be able to carry all of this on my own is beyond me.

“Just one moment,” I say, holding up a finger. Running back into the wardrobe room, I look for her to help me with the delivery. Finding it empty, along with every other one I search, I have no choice but to return to the man. He looks irritated at having to wait.

“Can you sign?” He hands me a clipboard, then starts to close the van doors.

I scribble my name and hand it back to him, officially making these products my responsibility. Resigned, I walk over to the rolls leaning against the wall.

Logic calls for me to bring one or two into the building at a time. However, being the type of person who only makes one trip from the car to the house with the groceries, I’ll be damned if I’m not going to get this all in one go. Stacking two bundles across my forearms, I look over to him just as he’s getting in the van.

“Hey, do you think you can put the other three on top of these?”

The look he gives me speaks to his skepticism, but I don’t care. This is a solid plan.

“Are you sure lady?”

“Yeah, I can handle it.”

He comes over and does what I ask, instantly throwing me off balance. The weight is pushing down on my arms, and the silkiness of the cloth has them sliding back and forth. Doing some awkward two steps forward, one step back, trying to keep them from falling over, the whole time I can’t help but curse under my breath.

He gives me another look, before shaking his head.

“Are you sure, you’re sure?”

I nod, and turn to go back inside, determination egging me on. His disbelief is the fuel I need to make this happen.

As soon as I walk through the open door the uneven weight has me teetering back and forth. The journey from the front of the lot to the storage room feels like it’s taking forever, but I keep going knowing I can do this. Sweat starts to bead on my forehead, and when I’m halfway there, I hear someone approaching behind me.

“What are you doing?”

The universe must be testing me by sending the last person I would want to witness my struggle.

“Go away,” I rasp, my breathing labored and short.

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