All the Feels (Spoiler Alert #2)(3)

Impotent fury crashed over him, and his self-control disappeared in the churn.

“So you do.” As he looked into those clear, calm eyes, his lip curled in disdain. “Shall I call you Mistress Lauren, do you think? Or will Nanny Clegg do?”

THAT COULD HAVE gone better, Lauren thought, keeping her arms loose by her sides, her hands unclenched, her posture open.

She’d assumed Ron would speak to his star privately first and allow the actor’s anger to dissipate before she met him, but no. Such consideration and discretion were beyond her cousin.

In retrospect, then, she should have skipped what she’d intended to be a simple acknowledgment of his fame and just claimed it was lovely to meet him. Which it wasn’t, but he was hardly the first furious person she’d ever encountered, and she usually knew how to handle this sort of situation more skillfully.

After over a decade as an emergency services clinician, she’d better know.

“Please call me Lauren.” In hopes of defusing the situation, she made certain her tone was calm and pleasant. “What would you prefer I call you? Mr. Woodroe? Alexander?”

Compared to evaluating incoming ER patients, ones who arrived amid mental health crises and often departed without necessary resources in place to help them survive, this job—this fraught moment—should be a cakewalk. It was both temporary and unlikely to result in trays flung at her head while security guards came rushing into the fray.

It was even less likely to leave her brokenhearted and dangerously close to the end of her mental and physical rope.

“Alex, I suppose.” He cast a critical eye over her. “Is this your first day on set? Because I would have remembered seeing you before.”

That was likely a veiled insult, one she didn’t need to acknowledge. “I arrived over the weekend, so this is my third day on set. We must have been in different areas of filming before now, because I don’t remember seeing you either.”

And she would have, even hazy with jet lag on her first full day in Spain.

He was memorable. In a much better way than she was.

So was the entire, enormous set. As her exhaustion had eased and she was able to grapple with her surroundings more coherently, the network’s brazen, high-stakes gamble on Ron and R.J. had left her increasingly agog. The head of an actual network had given men like them control over thousands of people and millions of dollars? Really?

Carry yourself with the confidence of a mediocre white man. Whenever she heard that phrase, she always, always thought of Ron.

No wonder the show went off the rails as soon as E. Wade’s existing books had all been adapted. Once the showrunners had to forge ahead using their own ideas, everyone involved was screwed. Inevitably.

Still, the scope of the enterprise and the expertise of the actors and crew impressed the hell out of her. She wasn’t a fan of the show or her cousin, but she’d readily admit that.

Alex drummed his fingers against his tunic-covered thigh, his quiver of arrows at his feet. “So tell me, Lauren, what would you do if—”

“I have to go,” Ron interrupted. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted. Lauren, you’ll stay in his trailer while he’s working, and I reserved you the room connected to his at the hotel. Anywhere else he goes, you’re with him, and you eat all meals together. Understood?”

As this was the fourth time she’d heard Ron’s plan, she didn’t especially need the peremptory reminder. He’d been a spoiled brat of a boy, convinced of his own genius and prone to teasing the most vulnerable children—including her—until they cried, and he evidently hadn’t changed much.

“Yes,” she said. “I understand.”

Telling her parents about Cousin Ron’s cruelty had only upset them and caused her mother to argue with Aunt Kathleen on the phone. Eventually, she’d spared everyone the distress and begun pretending she enjoyed her cousin’s company, and now she was paying the price for her dishonesty.

While you’re between jobs, you should go visit your cousin in Spain, her mother had said last month. You and Ron used to get along so well, and you haven’t seen him in years. Aunt Kathleen and I always hoped you two would be closer. She’ll be hurt if you don’t make the effort. Anyway, you could use a vacation, sweetheart.

A vast understatement. Lauren had been desperate to get her sleep schedule back in order, and even more desperate to bask in the sun and simply relax. And after endless years of overtime—the ER was perennially understaffed when it came to therapists, especially for the overnight shift—she had plenty of savings. Enough to buy her a few weeks before she had to decide where to work next.

Enough to take a vacation. A long one.

During that much-needed vacation, she’d had zero desire to see Ron. But unless she had no other choice, she didn’t disappoint her family. Or anyone, really.

So she’d driven to visit Ron the day she’d arrived in Spain, intending only a brief stop at this remote coastal town before she headed toward Barcelona. And then …

Then she was stuck. Because he needed help, and if she didn’t provide that help, she’d be hearing about it from her parents and Aunt Kathleen.

Besides, she had her own reasons for taking the job.

“Good.” Ron turned to Alex. “Show her where your trailer is before we start filming, and do what she says. The bad publicity ends now.”