by L. A. Witt
Get a grip, Samuels. It’s been a while. That’s all.
“Wow, this really is a tiny town.” Marcus chuckled as he checked out the buildings lined up along Main Street. “How do you stay sane here?”
Carter shrugged. “It’s not a bad place. The fishing’s good.”
“You fish?”
A memory flickered through Carter’s mind of Levi wrangling the squirming mini-shark onto the boat. He swallowed. “Sometimes.”
“You didn’t strike me as the type.” Marcus put his hand on Carter’s thigh. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”
Carter laughed halfheartedly. “Guess so.” He looked the other way as they passed the Bluewater Bay Theater Company. The marquee had changed to reflect an upcoming version of Fiddler on the Roof. Carter caught himself wondering if Levi would be directing that too.
“Oh wow.” Marcus craned his neck to check out the theater. “Is that one of those old indie theaters?”
“No, just a playhouse now.”
“Damn. Seattle’s full of indie houses.”
“You’re lucky. We only have this and the first-run movie theater.” Carter paused. “Speaking of which, I know it’s mainstream Hollywood shit, but do you want to catch a movie after we eat?”
Marcus glanced at him, then shrugged. “Sure.”
“Great. The restaurant is up that way. Turn left at the light.”
For once in his life, Carter wasn’t interested in what was on the screen. A few times he actually forgot what movie they were watching. He just needed a little time to collect his thoughts—ninety minutes plus previews seemed like enough.
In theory, anyway.
As the previews ended and the lights went down, Marcus rested his hand on Carter’s leg. Carter put his hand on top. The gentle contact distracted him from the movie, but not in the way a date’s touch should have. He should’ve been squirming, his pulse pounding as he thought of all the things they’d be doing when they eventually made their way back to his place. Or wondering who’d be the first to make the move to start making out like a couple of high school kids.
But his mind was about as focused on Marcus as it was on the movie, and his inability to concentrate drove him insane. He’d barely thought of Levi all weekend long, and he’d convinced himself that meant he’d really moved on.
Now, with Marcus sitting beside him and Levi someplace else, he knew damn well that wasn’t the case. He’d managed to block out Levi’s existence while his parents were in town. And at the con, he’d had Marcus to occupy his attention.
But then one damned look at the man on the set and now Carter couldn’t get him off his mind.
Marcus. Concentrate on Marcus.
Levi’s not available. There’s no point.
Carter laced his fingers between Marcus’s.
Marcus is here. Levi isn’t.
And Marcus is willing to take this to places . . .
Carter squirmed in his seat. He and Marcus had both been itching for some privacy and some time together since they’d met at the con. Now that there was no one looking over their shoulder and no camera lenses pointed their way, every look they exchanged should’ve been nothing short of a green light. After all, Marcus hadn’t come all the way out here for the weekend to sleep on the couch. Up until this afternoon, that thought had excited Carter so much, he could barely stand the idea of waiting a few hours.
Now . . .
Carter shivered.
Marcus turned his head and whispered, “You okay?”
Carter nodded. “Yeah. Sorry.”
Marcus gently freed his hand. Carter was about to object, but then Marcus put an arm around his shoulders and drew him in close. Though the armrest bit into his ribs, Carter liked being against him like this. He looked up, and Marcus met his gaze, the movement from the screen dancing on his features and in his eyes.
Carter reached for Marcus’s face, and they both pulled in breaths when his fingertips trailed along Marcus’s jaw.
They were moving in, the distance shrinking, Carter’s pulse soaring, and though a voice in the back of his mind screamed at him to back off, he didn’t. Their lips met, and Carter immediately broke out in goose bumps. Marcus knew how to kiss. In fact, that thing he did with his tongue was just . . . shiver.
So why do I want to get the hell out of here?
Carter could barely summon up the energy to return the kiss with a shred of enthusiasm, manufactured or otherwise. Any other time, any other place, Marcus would’ve had him climbing the walls and begging to be fucked. Hell, they probably would’ve fucked by now.
Any other time.
Any other place.
But he couldn’t focus. Couldn’t keep his mind here, now, on Marcus.
Levi.
Levi.
Fuck, I want Levi.
“Maybe we should get out of here,” Marcus murmured. “This armrest is digging into my side.”
Carter forced a grin. “Damn bucket seats.”
“Seriously. I lost track of the movie anyway.” Marcus glanced up at the screen, then met Carter’s eyes in the low light. “Shall we?”
“Definitely.”
They made it through the front door, but Marcus didn’t even give Carter a chance to turn the dead bolt before he grabbed him by the waist. He pinned him to the door and kissed him, and Carter was so damned turned on, he forgot everything that wasn’t this hot, aggressive man pressing against him.
For a few seconds.
God, Carter. Get a grip.
Maybe getting laid will help. Maybe I just need to drag him to bed and stay there until I forget about—
Except that wasn’t him. He didn’t fuck one guy to forget another. He fucked him because he wanted him, or not at all.
Right?
Carter toed off his shoes and shrugged out of his jacket. Marcus’s jacket landed at their feet, and Carter started pulling Marcus’s shirt free.
What am I doing?
A tug at his own belt sent a surge of panic through Carter.
I can’t do this.
Marcus’s hands froze. He pulled back, forehead creased with concern. “You okay?”
“Um . . .”
Marcus loosened his embrace. “What’s wrong?”
Carter held his gaze, and no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t look Marcus in the eye and pretend his heart was in this. “Look, I’m . . . I’m sorry.” His shoulders dropped and he rubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t think I can do this right now.”
“Oh. Well, we . . . It doesn’t have to be tonight.” Marcus took Carter’s other hand. “We can take things slower if you want.”
“No, it’s not just tonight.” Carter sighed. “To be honest, I don’t think I’m in a good place to be seeing anyone.”
Now that he’d said it, he felt even worse. Guilty. Depressed.
Marcus drew back a little more. “So, why am I here?”
Because I didn’t realize it until I saw Levi today.
“I thought I . . . All weekend, I was . . .”
“This is about that Chad Eastwick guy, isn’t it?” Marcus set his jaw. “The one they’ve been talking about you dating?”
“What? No!” Carter waved his hand. “No, I’m . . .” So hung up on that Chad Eastwick guy, it isn’t even funny. “I’m . . .”
“Is this why you never wanted to go back to the hotel all weekend?”
Guilty.
“No, of course not. We were . . . It was a convention. We couldn’t . . .”
Marcus raised a skeptical eyebrow.
Carter exhaled. “I’m sorry. I thought I was—”
“This is bullshit.” Marcus turned away, shoving a hand through his hair. “And you couldn’t bring this up while we were still in Seattle? You had to wait until—”
“Do you think I’m doing this for fun?”
“I don’t know why you’re doing it,” Marcus snapped. “But you could’ve saved me a couple of tanks of gas and half a fucking day—”
“You want money to cover the gas?”
“No. That’s not the point. The point is, I don’t like having my time wasted to—”
“I’m sorry,” Carter said again. “If I’d thought this would happen, I would have . . .”
Marcus watched him silently for a moment, then stooped to pick up his jacket. “Take care, Carter. I’m out of here.”
Carter winced, and said the only thing he could say: “I’m sorry.”
But there was no one around to hear him.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and swore under his breath. He had no business getting tangled up with Levi. There was no way he was going to be someone’s dirty secret, especially not someone who was creeping up on forty. If Levi wasn’t out now, he was never going to be. Not with Carter or anyone else.
But Marcus deserved to be more than a convenient warm body. He deserved a guy who wasn’t thinking about someone else when they were getting hot and heavy.
And there was one and only one man on Carter’s mind tonight.
Levi didn’t have to be on set until four the next afternoon, which meant he didn’t need to show up until around three. Usually, he’d have arrived an hour or two early just in case makeup took longer than expected, or the director suddenly decided to shuffle the shooting schedule.
Today, he took his sweet time, pulling into the gravel parking lot outside the warehouse-turned-soundstage at a few minutes shy of three. All the way from his house to the set, he promised himself he’d focus on his scene and not Carter. Even if that scene was with Carter.
They’d get used to this new reality—with a flesh and blood confirmation that they really were just friends—eventually, but for now, he had to concentrate on nothing but being Max Fuhrman.
So, of course, the second he walked into the warehouse, without even thinking about it, he homed in on Carter, whose back was turned to him while he and Joe listened to Anna explain something.
As far as Levi could tell, that other guy wasn’t here, and Levi felt guilty for his relief at the man’s absence. Jesus Christ, it had hurt seeing Carter with someone else.
Levi wasn’t jealous in a malicious way. He genuinely hoped things worked out and they were happy—Carter deserved nothing less.
But it fucking hurt.
In a few short weeks, he’d grown closer to Carter than he’d ever been to any of his exes, male or female. There were still plenty of things they didn’t know about each other yet, but he was so at ease with Carter. Comfortable with him in a way he’d rarely been with another person.
Now that he’d seen Carter with someone else, now that he had confirmation that he’d pushed Carter out of reach, now he realized how much “just friends” didn’t cut it.
This is what you wanted, Levi.
Wanted? Yeah, right.
But this was the way it needed to be. He’d made the decision a long time ago to stay closeted, and now this dream job, the very role he was getting ready to slip into, was on the line. There was no discreetly dating the most eligible gay man in showbiz, and anyway, Carter had found someone else. Levi had gotten over people before, and he’d get over this one.
Levi left the soundstage and got dressed before taking a seat in the makeup chair. While the artist worked her magic, Levi propped the script on his knee and busied himself going over the scene again, though he knew it by heart. It was something to do, even if it meant reading and rereading a scene that would involve prolonged eye contact with Carter.
You’ve got this. You’re a professional and so is he.
Anna’s assistant appeared in the doorway. “Levi, Anna needs you and Carter in ten.”
“He’s almost done,” the makeup artist said. “Tell her five minutes, tops.”
Five minutes. Levi closed his eyes. Five minutes until go time with Carter.
I’ve got this. I’ve done tougher scenes under more pressure. I’ve totally got this.
That mantra brought his pulse back down and kept him focused while the makeup artist finished with him. It kept him breathing. Kept him sane.
Until the moment Carter walked onto the set.
I’ve got— Fuck, I don’t even know.
Carter came up, but couldn’t seem to hold Levi’s gaze. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“So, um.” Carter cleared his throat, and his smile was definitely forced. “You ready for this?”
Not a chance.
“I’ve got my lines down, if that’s what you mean.”
Carter laughed. “Well, that’s good.”
They locked eyes, and Levi scrambled for some sort of benign small talk. Carter broke away first, muffling a cough and staring at his feet. Levi glanced around in search of a distraction.
Mercifully, one came—Anna summoned Levi into the office.
“Good luck,” Carter said.
“Thanks. Hopefully I didn’t piss her off.”
“Oh, you’d know it if you did.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Still, Levi was a little nervous as he stepped into Anna’s office. She closed the door behind them and faced him.
“So.” She folded her arms. “What do you think?”
“Of?”
“The show. The production. Everything.”
“I like it.” He smiled. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”
“Well, no. But the thing is . . .” She bit her lip and dropped her gaze.
Levi tensed. “What? Something wrong?”
“No. But . . .” She met his eyes. “Cutting right to the chase, there was a lot of talk about you at the con this weekend. Word’s gotten out that you may be joining the cast, and we had dozens of fans asking us to confirm it.”
Levi swallowed. “Did you?”
Anna shook her head. “I wanted to talk to you first. The thing is, I’ve got some footage from yesterday that could be conveniently leaked.” She held up her smartphone. “All I have to do is hit Post, and everyone in Landing fandom knows you’re Max Fuhrman.”
Levi stared at the phone. “And the studio would—”
“The fans will go batshit.” She grinned. “There’s no way in hell the studio will fire you when you’re making the fans happy. And nobody knows this particular Twitter account is mine, so I’m safe too.” She gestured with the phone again, and her expression turned serious. “But if I let it slip, it also means you’re not going to be able to exercise that ‘easy out’ in your contract.”
“Right. Which means I need to . . . behave.”
Anna nodded. “I’m sorry about that part, Levi.”
“I know.” He blew out a breath. “The price of working in this business, am I right?”
“Yep.”
“Though if it’s out that I’m on Wolf’s Landing, will they really fire me if—”
“Don’t test the studio on this, baby.” She shook her head. “Just . . . don’t.”
He chewed the inside of his cheek. “So I’m guessing you called me in here to ask for a green light to ‘leak’ the footage?”
Anna nodded. “You don’t have to make any decisions now. It can—”
“No. Go ahead and post it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He smiled again. “This is the role I’ve been itching for. If leaking the footage keeps the studio from finding a way to can me? Go for it.”
Anna laughed. “Well, if you insist . . .” She winked and turned on her phone. “This should keep Twitter and Tumblr busy for a day or two.”
“Yeah, probably.” Levi chuckled.
“And . . . done.” She set the phone aside. “Let the fireworks begin.”
“Hopefully the fans will be happy.”
“They will be, sweetie.” She touched his arm. “Trust me, most of the fans who came up to ask if you were really going to be on the show were so excited, they couldn’t see straight. This is going to make their collective day.” She let go of his arm and gestured over her shoulder. “And now you’re stuck on my show, so get out there on t
he set so we can shoot this scene.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
This particular set was one he’d seen a few times on the show, though it was strange to physically be here. The “room” was mostly bare concrete walls surrounding a metal table and a pair of folding chairs, plus the usual two-way mirror on the whitewashed wall beside the steel gray door. The cinematographer had painstakingly lit the room to be as bleak and soulless as possible on the screen, but while it appeared cold, it was actually quite hot. Just as well, since Levi’s character was supposed to break into a sweat during his interrogation. That would be easy enough.
Levi took a seat in one of the folding chairs. A crew member put a pair of handcuffs on his wrists and Levi rested them in his lap.
Carter toed the other chair out from under the table and stood beside it, facing Levi. He tugged at his tie, disheveling it, and someone from the crew tweaked his hair slightly to give him a more frazzled look.
And then Levi and Carter were alone on the set. They were surrounded by at least two dozen people—the director, those manning cameras and equipment, makeup artists standing by for touch-ups—but everyone and everything behind the bright lights disappeared into heavy shadows. The two of them may as well have been isolated in a real interrogation room, staring each other down over the table without oversized lenses looking on like prying eyes.
“Action!”
The set was completely silent. Carter’s character perused something in a file folder while Levi watched him. Without looking up, Carter said, “Tell me again where you were last night.”
“At home.”
“Doing?”
“I was asleep.” In character, Levi tried to wring his hands, but the cuffs hindered him, so he dropped them in his lap again. “And no, there’s nobody who can vouch for me. I live alone.”
“Care to explain this?” Carter fanned a series of blurry black-and-white photos on the table.
Levi gave them a cursory look, then sat back and shook his head. “It’s not me.”
