In the beginning, he'd startled me by literally lying out on the front sidewalk, shooting toward the house at an upward angle to disguise the fact that most of the lawn had been mowed already.
Whether I'd been startled or not, I had to admit, Roy definitely knew what he was doing when it came to getting good footage. And he'd been nice enough to show me some of it afterward.
But that didn't mean he was looking out for me.
I needed to remember that.
I'd even confronted him about that scene in the attic, where he'd filmed my encounter with Brody.
If I'd been expecting an apology, I would've been sorely disappointed – because all Roy said was that he'd only been doing his job, and that anything in or around the house was – in his words – "fair game."
And then, he'd offered me half of his second bacon sandwich, as ifthatwould make it all better.
It hadn't, even if the sandwich had been pretty darn delicious.
Unfortunately, it was also the highlight of my day.
After I'd mowed the lawn, Roy had filmed me trimming the bushes – not that they'd really needed it. And then, he'd directed me to toward the rear of the house, where he'd filmed me weeding my grandmother's long-neglected flower beds.
I didn't mind the work. If I were on my own, I would've done it, anyway.
But now, hours later, I was utterly spent – not just from all the physical activity, but from being under the microscope for so many hours in a row.
When I'd signed up for this gig, I'd naively assumed that I'd be merely a side player, not a featured performer.
But of course, I reminded myself, this was only the first day. When the actual construction began, I'd surely fade deeper into the woodwork.
Or at least I sure hoped so.
At six o'clock that evening, I'd returned to the crew house, exhausted, but relieved to get some much-needed privacy.
The reprieve lasted only an hour – until the arrival of Waverly and her suitcases.
Until that particular moment, I'd been holding out a tiny bit of hope that Brody had been kidding about Waverly staying here.
No such luck.
And now, she was asking, "So, where's his bedroom?"
I blinked. "What?"
"Brody's bedroom," she said. "Which one is his?"
The question irritated me more than it should've. "How would I know?"
At this, she smiled. "So you don't?"
"No. Do you?"
Her smile grew sly. "Not yet."
Yet?What didthatmean? Now, I was onlymoreirritated. And on top ofthat, I was irritated for being irritated. After all, she and Brody totally deserved each other.
If they hooked up, it would be agoodthing because it would keep both of them occupied and away from me. Or at least, that's what I kept telling myself, even as the thought of them together festered like an open wound.
Would they seriously hook up?
She obviously had a thing for him, even now,afterhe'd told her to butt out of the construction side of things. And, whether I liked Brody or not, I could totally see why she was interested. He was rich, famous, and dangerously hot.
