Page 45 of Sidelined By Love

At least he paid.

The alarm on my phone reminds me that I have three minutes until my call with Knight Burkhardt. As I turn it off, I notice a text from Caro.

Gurrrllll! Why didn’t you tell me?

She probably heard about my meeting with Knight. Sets are notoriously gossipy, and if even one person caught wind of it, everyone within a twenty-mile radius will have heard that I’ve already been offered the role.

I can only hope.

I’ll reply as soon as I actually talk to the director.

Sweeping Bronco toward the door with one foot, I fluff my hair with my fingers. The mutt immediately begins whining, a low howl echoing through the whole house.

“Come on. Not now, Bronc. Don’t you want to play in the living room?” I give him my most convincing smile. “I’ll give you a treat later.”

He’s clearly not persuaded as I nudge his round rump another foot toward the door. He just digs deeper and lets out what can only be compared to a baby’s cry.

Two minutes to go.

I cannot be late.

“Fine. Stay. But you have to be quiet.”

Bronco woofs loudly.

Not what I asked for. Maybe if I wear my earbuds, Knight won’t hear the background noise. And those are . . . I reach for the little white box on the nightstand, but my hand comes up empty. I have no idea where I left them. I can’t even remember the last time I used them. And there’s no time to tear my room apart right now.

As I slide into the creaking chair in front of the white wooden desk—one that looks more appropriate for a ten-year-old’s room—my phone chirps. Right. I silence it, but only after catching a glimpse of the text.

Good luck

One minute to go, and I whip out a quick reply.

Don’t you know you’re supposed to say break a leg? And aren’t you supposed to be at practice?

I am

I want to chide Grant for not focusing, but I’m out of time. I open the video meeting just as Bronco sets up shop at my feet, resting his belly against my toes. Knight is already on, and I immediately flash him a smile.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Burkhardt.”

“Miss Peebles.” He nods but his gaze is trained somewhere near his desktop. His hair is jet black, save for a silver stripe that starts near his widow’s peak and strolls toward his left temple. “Surprising we haven’t met before this.”

“I know. I’m a big fan of your work and have been telling Cyndi I want to work with you for years.”

He remains silent, even as three horizontal lines form across his forehead.

I know I should stay silent and wait for him to speak, but my mouth won’t listen to my head. “Where the Wild Endshas been my favorite movie since I was eleven.”

His eyebrows arch, and he glances up. “Isn’t that a little young to be watching that film?”

I rein in the urge to shrug or to blame mostly absent parents. “What can I say? I had good taste—even as a kid.”

He snorts but then looks directly into his camera. I feel like he can see right through me. “You know what, I almost believe that.”

“Good. It’s true.”

“Miss Peebles—”