Mr. 365 (16 page)

“Your boss?”

“Yeah. I called him to find out what the hell is going on.”

“And what did he say?”

“He reminded me that they often have academics on the show to explore people’s behaviors and I was being dramatic. That if I didn’t think the line of questioning was appropriate, I needed to redirect it.”

“Really?” Will asks, sounding unconvinced.

“That’s what he said.” I huff.

“So, you’re pissed. Why?”

“I feel like I never really got control of this show, and I’m not sure why. Lindsey is treating me like she’s my boss, Paul is being especially obnoxious, and then this woman comes in and asks you things out of left field that I wasn’t expecting. I know I’m new to this genre but they treat me like I’ve never done a show before.”

“This isn’t making me feel any better.” Will warns me.

“Sorry. And I’m sorry that I didn’t speak up during that segment.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I kept thinking her strategy would make sense, suddenly pull things together. I didn’t think she was going to analyze you the way she did or be disrespectful about your grandparents.”

Will squints at me and tips his head.

“I’m sure our groping session in the storage room thirty minutes before didn’t help matters either. I need to get my focus back.”

“Maybe we both do.”

“Will, I promise I’m going to do everything I can to make this right by you.”

He doesn’t respond and he folds his arms across his chest.

“I’m hoping you’ll still like me when this show is over,” I add.

His expression softens, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

“I
think
I’ll still like you… maybe.”

I smile sweetly. “Fair enough. And I’m glad because I
know
I’ll still like you.”

Now that we have an approved set of questions for Helena, things go much smoother. I finally manage to keep a respectable distance away from Will, consequently the team seems more relaxed. Perhaps they’re assuming that, despite whatever went down in the store room, our flirting is over. I use that to my advantage and regain control.

I approach Will during the afternoon break. “So, the guys were talking about the way you help some of the local homeless people. They were wondering if they could interview one of them. I was thinking about Hank.”

“Interview Hank? What would they ask him? He has a lot of pride. I wouldn’t want them to humiliate him.”

“They said the focus would be on your relationship with him and his friends, and discussing some of the ways you’ve helped him.”

Will purses his lips together, but then suddenly his eyes get wide and he smiles. “Would they pay him for the interview?”

“That could be arranged.”

“It would have to be cash,” Will says.

“We could pull it from our petty cash fund, and I could authorize it.”

“Okay. If you pay Hank, I’ll help them find him and let Hank know it’s okay
if
he wants to do it, and that’s
if
.”

“All right. I think it will be a nice addition to the segment,” I say, smiling.

That night at dinner, Will’s spirits are high. “We’re almost done. All we have left are the outside shots and this three-ring circus will be over.”

“Has it been completely awful for you? I ask, hoping his answer is no.

He takes a sip of his beer. “Pretty awful, but not completely awful.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” I say, laughing. “Can I steal another fry?” I reach into his basket, not waiting for his answer.

“Sure. You’re enjoying my dinner more than your own.”

“Stupid salad. Why didn’t I get a burger like you?”

“I don’t understand girls and their eating sometimes.” He holds up his burger and offers me another bite. “You’re going to have to eat to keep up.”

“Yeah?” I ask, grinning.

“Definitely.” He lifts his beer bottle to his lips.

“When you drive me home will you come up for a while?”

“Do you really have to ask?” He teases.

“We can finish that kiss we started in the store room.” My face heats.

He bites down on the fry and chews it thoughtfully before looking up with a wicked half smile. “Does this mean we’re moving ahead? I’m still not going to drag you into my bed. You’ll have to tell me when you’re ready.”

I nod, stealing another one of his fries. “Moving ahead, still slow but moving forward.”

“You sure? No more back and forth?”

“I’m in, both feet.” Tilting my head, I study him. “How about you? For a minute in the storeroom, you were slipping away.”

He nods, his darkening gaze moving over me, and I run my fingers along the very trail he kissed down my neck in that dark, dusty storage room. I rest my hand on my cheek and nervously wait for his reply.

His eyes blaze with a light he shines like a lighthouse on a foggy night. When we connect he looks younger and hopeful, an even better version of his already amazing self.

He looks like a man in love.

“I’m in,” he says.

T
he next morning my face is a little raw from our make-out session the night before. I’m still surprised we didn’t go all the way but we were both exhausted and agreed it wasn’t the right time. I want the first time we make love to be full-on fireworks, not sprinkler wands that quickly fizzle out after you wave them around.

Will picks me up and takes me to breakfast so we can have some time together. I have to work all afternoon and into the evening so it’s our only chance for quality time. Before he takes me home, we swing by his house to search for a notebook Lindsey worries she left behind.

As we step out of his truck, I notice a man standing in the yard next door.

“Who’s that?” I ask.

“Fred, my asshole neighbor.” Will frowns when the man crosses the lawn toward us. “He never talks to me, so whatever he wants can’t be good.”

“If it has anything to do with the shoot you should let me handle it.”

“No way,” he says.

“The filming agreements are our problem. We arranged them. Honestly, it would be smart for you to stay out of it.”

He falls silent.

“You know I’m right.”

Will steps out of his car and turns to face Fred.

“What’s up?” he asks with a stony expression, his hands passively jammed in the pockets of his worn jeans.

“That filming crap was supposed to be done this week. You moved it and we’re not happy about it,” Fred says.

Although he looks pretty average as middle-age men go, the way he’s glaring at Will and gesturing dramatically puts me on edge. He keeps running his thick hand over his bald head as he talks.

“First of all, I didn’t move it. Mother Nature did. They couldn’t shoot the outside stuff in the rain.”

I move over to Will’s side of the truck. “Hi, Mr. Hoffmeyer. I’m Sophia Worthy, and I’m from the production company. I’ll help you with your concerns.”

I turn to Will. “Will, why don’t you take care of Romeo while I handle this?”

“Sophia,” he says, shaking his head.

“Please.”

He looks very tense and he keeps glancing over at Fred, but I stand my ground until he finally gives in. “Be careful,” he says quietly. “I’ll be right inside.”

Once Will is out of sight, Fred Hoffmeyer gives me a once-over.

“You his girlfriend or what?”

I ignore his question and decide to take the polite, professional approach. “Listen Mr. Hoffmeyer, I’m sorry if the rescheduling of the exterior shoot has inconvenienced you. But it’s a big storm that’s supposed to hit tonight, possibly even late this afternoon.”

“Well, that’s too bad, isn’t it?” He sneers.

“Yes, it’s unfortunate. Believe me, we would all like to finish this up.”

“The thing is, miss, the weather’s not my problem, and if this thing is going to take two weeks, I want to be paid twice.”

“Although I wasn’t the one dealing with you, I do know that you’re being paid for three days, plus two for the setup and takedown of the yard decorations.”

“We have an ordinance that says he’s not allowed to put that garbage up until the week of Thanksgiving.”

I mentally note the irony that his house is the neighborhood eyesore. His lawn is near dead, and the paint’s peeling off the wood siding. I try to keep calm by reminding myself that I wouldn’t want to live next door to someone who drew those kinds of crowds next to my house during the holidays. I just wish he didn’t have to be such an ass about it.

“Well, I’m very sorry you think of the décor as garbage, but we are well aware of the ordinance and have obtained a special permit from the city. As long as it’s taken down the day after the shoot, all is good.”

“It’s garbage!”

“Again, I’m sorry you feel that way, but as we just discussed, you’re being paid for the days of the setup and takedown as well, so I’m not sure I understand your conflict. The number of days in our agreement hasn’t changed.”

He points toward Will’s front door. “That ass thinks that just ’cause he’s good-looking he can treat the rest of us like he’s better than we are.”

Oh geez!
Will wasn’t kidding about this nut job.

I get a very unsettled feeling and realize that this guy isn’t going to be easy. He’s not rational, and it’s going to be a challenge to talk any sense into him. I glance at the house where Will’s watching from the window. A moment later he steps through the front door and onto the porch. He folds his arms over his chest, spreads his legs in an authoritative stance, and glares at Fred. As much as I feel safer having Will close, I get the feeling he’s just going to escalate things.

“You’re going to pay for this, asshole, and she will too!” Fred yells. The rage in his eyes waves all kinds of red flags. I’m going to have to come up with another strategy for us to deal with this guy.

“Sophia, I need to talk to you. Come here please.” Will’s voice is measured and strong. It makes my stomach flutter with nerves.

I nod and briefly turn back to Fred. “I’ll let our production company know about your concerns, Mr. Hoffmeyer. I’ll have Lindsey contact you tomorrow.”

“You better, or we’re gonna shut this thing down,” he grumbles, spitting on the ground before returning to his property.

Will’s entire body is tense when he opens the front door and leads me inside. He slams the front door shut.

His anger surprises me when he swings around to face me. “Do not do that, Sophia!” he says with gritted teeth.

I look up, surprised. “What are you talking about?”

“I warned you about him, but you insisted on trying to reason with that madman, and you put yourself in danger.” He’s shaking.

Danger? Why’s he being so dramatic?

“Will—”

“I can’t let anything happen to you. I don’t care what he does to me, but now he knows who you are. He’s a crazy fucker. I thought you’d have more street smarts than that.”

“Hey, I have street smarts!” I argue.

“Not that I can tell. I should have never left you alone with him, but I made up my mind that I wouldn’t be so controlling and overprotective as I’ve been in the past. But maybe I should stick to my instincts after all.”

“I see,” I say quietly.

He slams his fist against the wall and heads to the back of the house, leaving me in the foyer. I hear the back door slam shut.

I sit down on the third step of the main staircase facing the big kid’s Christmas tree and take a deep breath.

Controlling? Overprotective?
Those are definitely qualities I’m not comfortable with in a man. This insight into Will is troubling.

I slowly stand and steady myself before heading to the backyard. He’s on the lawn, throwing a tennis ball to Romeo. The dog jumps up into the air to catch the ball and then charges back to Will and drops the ball at his feet.

Will sees me and then picks up the ball and throws it again. I wait as the two boys go several more rounds before I interrupt.

“Can we talk?”

He nods, drops the ball, and joins me on the step. He rubs his hands over his knees before sitting down and taking a deep breath.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” he says finally, slipping his hands in his back pockets and tipping his head down.

“And I’m sorry I worried you. I thought I could handle the situation, and although it didn’t go well, nothing bad happened?”