Page 29 of Romance Is Dead

“Here.” I tossed it to him as I entered the living area. “Try that.”

He caught it, glancing at it with distaste. “There’s no way that’s gonna fit.”

“You won’t know until you try.” I shrugged. “Should have come prepared instead of showing up looking like a fluorescent tangerine.”

Sighing, Teddy gripped the bottom of his shirt and yanked it over his head, revealing rippling abs and chiseled pecs. I averted my eyes, trying not to look. But the moon was angling through the window just right, highlighting his broad shoulders and taut biceps as he roughly pulled my tee-shirt down over his torso. I imagined slipping my thumbs beneath the waistband of his joggers, pushing him back onto the sofa, and climbing onto his lap.

I shook my head, physically trying to clear it.

“What?” Teddy groaned. “I told you it wouldn’t fit.” He’d managed to get the shirt on, but the armholes were so strained I was shocked they hadn’t ripped, and the hem hadn’t made it down past his belly button.

I smothered a laugh with my hand. “You look great.”

“I look ridiculous.”

“No, that look was very popular when I was in middle school. You just need a belly button ring and you’ll be set.”

“I hate you.”

“At least you and your hate will blend into the surroundings now.”

He grinned, his eyes sparkling in the moonlight, and the trailer suddenly felt very small, and very dark, and we were very alone. Once again, images of us on the couch flashed in my head. This time, Teddy easing the straps of my bra down my arms, his head dipping to press his mouth against—

“Anyway.” I cleared my throat. “Let me grab you something else. I think I have an old sweatshirt somewhere.” I returned to the bedroom and rustled around until I found it, an oversized crewneck with a Boston Red Sox logo emblazoned on the front.

“Here you go.”

Teddy eyed it skeptically. “This isn’t from one of your exes, is it?”

“Yeah. You can keep it—honestly, I don’t want it.”

“I’d rather not, thanks.” He held it by the tips of his fingers, looking even less enthused than he was about the tiny tee-shirt.

“Hurry up! We have to get going.”

Mutinously, he glared at me before slipping it over his head.

We crept outside and tiptoed through base camp, the moon illuminating our path as we made our way toward the props trailer. It was a long walk—the trailer was located next to the set house, and at this time of night there was no PA in a golf cart to shuttle us. The air was chilly, a breeze ruffling my hair and cutting through my sweatshirt with ease.

Teddy and I didn’t talk much along the way. Everyone was most likely back at the hotel, but you never knew—there could have been a late-night wardrobe emergency that needed attending to or a problem with logistics that had to be discussed.

Or there could be a murderer on the prowl, looking for their next victim.

As we finally made it to the trailer, a rare twinge of nerves snaked through my stomach. How would we explain ourselves if Scott caught us? And what, precisely, were we going to do once we got inside?

“Psst,” I hissed, grabbing Teddy’s arm. “Wait.”

“What’s up?”

“We should have a plan before we get inside.”

“Ok, uh. I don’t have one.”

“You were supposed to help me with this! I help you not suck so much at acting and you help me catch a killer.”

“We’re not even sure this was a murder! Scott could just be a weird dude who’s unreasonably passionate about lamps.”

“We’ve been over this! We at least need to find out what he knows.”

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