Page 111 of Lemon Crush

His smile was hard. “You’ve been stomping around like an angry bear with a therapy puppy in your arms while your favorite car gets stripped. That’s not professional.”

Wanda started rooting around and I tucked her against my chest defensively. “This is my professional garage. And the vet said bonding time and socialization are important. Dalton is doing it too.”

Dalton turned away from his workbench, rubbing the wigglysling across his chest. “I’ve been taking turns with the others for the last few days and they all seem to love it. Do you not like dogs, Mr. Haywood?”

“You’re being obtuse.” Kingston sounded aggravated.

I was pretty damned aggravated myself.

“The trials of the serious filmmaker.” Chick sighed mockingly. He was taking a break on a stool, his short-sleeved blue shirt and white pants still miraculously dirt-free, though his face and arms were glistening with sweat. “He’s so busy trying to force dark moments and profound reveals, he can’t see that the grumpy mechanic clutching a sweet, helpless puppy is already telling the audience the story he’s refusing to share.”

It was? What the hell was it saying? Shit.

Kingston narrowed his eyes on Chick. “I’m getting to the truth. I’m aware that’s an unusual concept for someone with your unique skillset, but I can’t spend hundreds of thousands on special effects to distract from bad acting and lazy writing.”

“Lazy?” Hot anger flared on Chick’s usually genial face.

“That’s what it’s called when a good writer phones in his scripts for a payday.”

“What’s it called when someone’s last documentary was praised by a reviewer for literally making them ‘vomit from sadness’?”

“Reality,” Kingston said flatly.

“Okay, that’s enough.” I held my free hand in the air, wishing for a whistle. “I’m calling it. Filming is over for today.”

“Hey Chick,” Rick called. “Dalton’s got his hands full of salvaged parts and puppies. Come help me haul these seats to my truck.”

I shot him a grateful look because, yeah, it was time to separate the high-maintenance creatives so we could actually finish this part of Jiminy’s transformation at some point today.

To give Chick his due, he didn’t hesitate to hop off thestool and lend a hand. He’d actually been a bigger help than I expected, and was pretty sturdy for a rich, West Coast leprechaun, picking up one of the seats with ease.

“What’s the idea with that?” I asked as Rick picked up the other.

“Lucy wants them for his man cave. Did you call dibs?”

“No, I did not.” I’d purchased and installed them myself, and they were supposed to be sold to help pay for the roll cage, but who gave a shit about anything? Not these fuckers.

“He said he’d pay fair market for them,” Rick added.

And now I was the fucker.

I’d been one all day and I knew it, but I couldn’t seem to care enough to stop. After that conversation with Morgan, I’d pretty much given up hope of keeping August until she’d handed me that bottle of truth water and agreed to share a bed with me every night,until and unless. But since then, I hadn’t seen her for longer than five minutes at a time, except when she was unconscious from exhaustion. She seemed happy whenever we did run into each other. Happy and busy.

She was doing yoga with Chick and Bernie. Working in the office at the icehouse or behind the bar. Writing stooped over her laptop for so long I felt compelled to give her back rubs in bed. The kind that led to sleep instead of sex.

I missed her and it was getting to me.

I pulled off my cap and blew out a hard breath, wiping my forearm across my sweaty forehead. “I need a break. I’m going across the street to grab a drink and cool off.”

“I’m with you,” Rick said.

Dalton raised a hand. “I second that emotion.”

“Perfect.” Chick nodded thoughtfully. “There’s something I wanted to show you all anyway. And a drink might help it go down easier.”

While they headed across the road to Hudson’s Icehouse, Iwent to my office to drop the pup off with her mother. Hopefully I could convince August to take her by the time she was officially weaned—I’d been bringing home pictures of the puppies, this runt in particular, and watching August fall in love with her.

“She looks like a Wanda.”

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