“Four weeks.”
“A month! Jude, man, I love you but there’s no way I’ll even be able to collect enough materials to make that deadline.”
“What if I helped you?”
“You’re going to dig through trash?”
“Of course.” I cringe. So, maybe I’ll hire someone else to. “And if we hit this new completion date, I’ll make it worth your time. Promise.”
“I don’t do it for the money, mate.” He isn’t lying, either. Their financial security doesn’t rely on his art sales. But for the next few minutes we discuss the new timeline along with moving details and installation. Any areas we built in buffers that can be stripped to make this happen. I make a few notes on my phone and fire off an email to my transportation guy. Which leads to another dozen calls and emails. I don’t stop working, or look up from my phone until there’s a knock at my passenger window a good thirty minutes later.
Rachel waves and nods her head toward the back of the vehicle. I pop the lift gate and hop out of my seat, meeting her at the back of the SUV to take her bags.
“Good day?”
“Uh . . .” She stares at me a long second, as if she can’t process the question or believe I asked. “Yeah. Beyond my car dying on the side of the freeway and almost being late to work. It was peachy.” Sarcasm drips from her words.
I lift my brows and bite back a chuckle. “So, you’re a glass-half-empty kinda person?”
“No.” Her brow pinches and she shakes her head, stepping back for the back gate to close. “I’m a very positive person. It’s just been a day.” It’s then I notice the bags under her eyes, the effort to her smile. Shit. I’m an ass. Here she is coming off a long work day, obviously exhausted, and car-less for the foreseeable future. A strange, foreign feeling settles in my chest. Protectiveness. The urge to make her feel better. To fix this. To help. It’s something I rarely experience for anyone outside my small circle. But there’s no mistake; I feel it now. As we climb back into the vehicle, I make it my mission to do whatever is in my power to brighten her day, even if it’s merely earning a few laughs on my behalf.
8
Rachel
My stomach grumbles with hunger and my temple aches with what’s sure to be the start of a horrible headache. Still, a few minutes into the ride home and I can’t help but smile as Jude regales me with the tale of his one and only time on a movie set.
“So, the director glares at some actor, who at this point is fully in the midst of an adult temper tantrum, and then turns to me and asks, ‘How big is your dick?’”
“No!”
“Yes! Swear it!” Jude glances my way, eyes wide and smile big, before focusing back on the traffic. “I was only there to deliver a crown. My client had called in a favor for a friend, stressing it had to be authentic. Took the whole damn day to track down a jeweler who’d lend one out. Here I was thinking it was for some historical film, and instead I ended up on set for an erotic film.”
“What did you do?”
He shrugs. “Obviously, I bragged about my cock and put on the crown.”
“No!” My mouth falls open.
“Of course not!” He laughs and shakes his head. “No! Jesus! I don’t need to brag about my dick. Only men with inferiority complexes do that.” He flashes me a cheeky grin and winks.
“What did you do with the crown?”
“Part of the agreement with the jeweler was that I couldn’t let it out of my sight. Not once. And I had to hire armed security. So we waited until the actor had his fit, and filming was back on, and then we pulled up chairs to watch the most awkward porn scene in the history of skin flicks.”
“No!” I can’t stop laughing and he joins me. I’m practically in tears. “You didn’t leave?”
“I would have,” he says through his own laughter, “but it was a really important client.”
“Wow. And I thought my job was strange sometimes.”
“Thankfully, that was a one and done.”
I catch my breath and lean back in my seat. Relaxed for the first time all day, it feels really good to smile. I open my mouth to ask him more about what it is he does for a living, but he speaks first.
“Oh, before I forget. I had your car towed to my mechanic. He won’t have a chance to look at it until tomorrow, but I’ll let you know as soon as he does.”
“Right.” Reality snuffs out my moment of reprieve. I straighten in my seat and try not to fiddle with my hands. I don’t know how much a tow costs, but that’s not what has me concerned. It’s more whether I have enough for the repairs. “Uh, how much do I owe you?”
