The door banged open, the sound echoing off the cinderblock walls of the barren hallway. “Ibarra!” someone barked.
Sadie didn’t recognize the voice. She froze, staring up at Bo as footsteps shuffled on the concrete behind her.
“Did you get a handle on things or what?” The footsteps came to an abrupt stop. “Oh.” There was an awful, awkward pause. “I see that you did.”
Bo slid his hands off her butt, face full of embarrassed chagrin like a boy caught with his fingers in the cookie jar. He cleared his throat. “Vic, I’d like you to meet the lead of this production, Miss Sadie Gold.”
Sadie turned around. “Hi.” She forced her lips to move into what she hoped was a smile and waved feebly. “Nice to meet you.”
“Vic is my partner,” Bo explained. “Co-owner of Windy City Stunts.” He paused, the ghost of a grin creeping across his face. “For a little longer, anyway.”
“Ma’am.” Vic tipped his head to Sadie, then turned his full attention to Bo. The older man’s face was lined with concern. “I’m not too sure about that.”
“Excuse me?” Bo went deathly still.
Sadie thought he’d been stiff with nerves before, now he was downright rigid.
“You’ve got a gag to run, an entire production crew is waiting on you, and I find you in here, manhandling the talent?”
As the talent in question, Sadie was about to interject that nobody had been manhandling her, but Vic continued.
“Where’s your head, man? In your pants?”
“Mind your own business,” Bo ground out, teeth clenched.
“This is my business!” Vic hollered.
Sadie almost laughed. Bo just got served the same response he’d given her when she’d tried the same argument. But there was nothing comical about his face right now. Above the dark curve of his beard, his face was ashen. Her stomach churned. This was her fault. If she’d kept her shit together and just run the stunt in the first place, none of this would be happening.
The door banged open again. All three of them jumped, heads jerking toward the hall entrance.
“There you are.” Tanya tucked her clipboard under her arm and marched toward them. “Sylvia says if you’re not back on set in thirty seconds, she’s going to tell the crew to start rolling with the double.”
“She can’t do that!” both men objected. They stared at each other for a moment.
Bo was the first to recover. “She can’t run the stunt without the coordinator on set.”
“It’s against OSHA,” Vic declared, aghast.
“Then I suggest the coordinator get back on set,” Tanya snapped.
Whoa. Sadie drew back in surprise. She hadn’t seen this side of Sylvia’s assistant before.
“We’ll continue this conversation later,” Bo muttered to Vic under his breath.
“You bet your ass we will,” the old guy shot back.
Sadie moved to follow the two men heading for the exit, but Tanya stopped her. “You might want to stop by Zara.” She tapped her clipboard, eyeing Sadie’s recently kissed mouth pointedly. “Have her give you a touch-up.”
Heat fanned out across Sadie’s cheeks, but she nodded mutely and hurried out the door.
She’d warned Bo she’d fuck up tonight.
At least she was a woman of her word.
* * *
Bo kept his gaze locked on Sadie as she ran up the escalator, dodging extras and stopping occasionally to turn, head tilted toward the camera, as she gazed back down the steps and checked on the progress of the bad guys who were in pursuit. He wondered how much of the panic on her face was real. True to her word, she’d committed to running the gag, and the fear her character was supposed to show as she fought her way to the top of the escalator appeared to be very, very real.
Beside him, Vic watched as well, grunting occasionally, usually after a particularly crafty bit of choreography. “Oooh.” Vic winced as Sadie’s character gave Henchman Number Two a knee to the balls. “Nice one.”
“I wasn’t manhandling her, you know,” Bo said quietly.
“Really?” Vic kept his gaze trained on the action. “Then it was some other man’s hands I saw on the leading lady’s ass?”
“It’s not like that. We’re … she’s my—” He stopped himself.
“She’s what?” Vic turned to Bo, salt-and-pepper eyebrows raised. “Don’t fucking tell me she’s your girlfriend.”
Bo ground his lips together.
“For Chrissakes, Ibarra. You know better.” Vic paused, frowning. “At least, I thought you did.”
Vic had every right to be pissed. He was right. If the roles had been reversed. If Bo had entered that hallway and found one of his crew making out with a cast member, he’d likely pull him from the production. “Are you having second thoughts?”
“You know I am.” Vic shook his head. “You would too. At best, your behavior was unprofessional as hell. At worst, it could be construed as harassment. The actions of all WCS members reflects directly on the company, no more so than the head of the company. As the owner, we set the bar.” Vic stabbed a finger in Bo’s chest. “You lower that bar and our reputation, and the success of our company, drops too. Word gets around. Fast.”
Bo had nothing to say to that. Again, Vic was right. He watched as the scene reset, cameras moving in for close-ups as the actors ran through the same sequence again. Depending on how long it took for Sylvia to get what she was aiming for, this part could take a while. Luckily, they had the time. Despite the delay at the start of the night, the shoot was running on schedule.
At least he’d done something right. All the hours he’d spent prepping the cast and his crew earlier this week were paying off. His jaw tightened painfully, a muscle spasming in his cheek. In a blink, everything he’d worked for was at risk. Jeopardized by one moment.
All these weeks of filming, he and Sadie had been careful to keep things professional on set. And then, when they were almost at the end, when it was almost over … Pinche mierda.
“You’re right,” he finally said. “I was so worried someone would fuck tonight up, and here I went and did it myself.”
“We all fuck up sometimes.” Vic sighed heavily. “You’re like a son to me, you know that, Ibarra?” He slapped Bo on the back. “And you are a hell of a stunt man. I know you can handle the company. I was just … surprised. I never expected that kind of thing from you.”
Bo nodded. He didn’t expect it from himself. But with Sadie, all bets were off. That wasn’t an excuse, though. “It won’t happen again.”
“I sure as shit hope not,” Vic said. “At least you were off set. Away from the rest of the cast and crew. You know what kind of shit a story like this would stir if word got out.”
“I’ll make sure it doesn’t,” Bo assured him. Vic was still angry, but he’d laid off the f-bombs and had downgraded to shit. The old guy was cooling off. “Are we good?”
Vic sighed. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think it’s best we wait until we see how this plays out. If I draw up the papers now and then this shit hits the fan, the whole company’ll be screwed.”
“What are you saying?” Frustration simmered in Bo’s gut.
“I’m saying I’m not doing anything until I’m convinced this isn’t going to be a problem.” Vic’s mouth was set, his mind made up. “Let’s get this thing wrapped. Wait it out a little bit. The holidays are coming up. If in the new year things seem to have blown over, then I’ll get the papers drawn up. Sound good?”
Bo jerked his head in a nod. It’s not like he had a choice in the matter. All his life, he’d just wanted to get to a place where he could be in control, call the shots. But right now, he felt as close to that goal as he’d been ten years ago.
Fucking hell.
CHAPTER 24
FUCKING HELL.
The words had been playing on a deranged loop in Bo’s head for the last eight hours or so. He sat up in bed, staring at his phone. Fucking hell. Fucking hell.
Fucking hell.
Clark lay curled at Bo’s side, tail swishing over the screen. “Not now, buddy.” Bo nudged the persistent pile of fur out of the way and swiped through the story again.
Unfortunately, no matter how many times he swiped, the details didn’t change. The images didn’t erase. There, for all the world to see, was video footage of Bo and Sadie, locked in a hot embrace. And even though the quality was grainy, the fluorescent lighting of the mall hallway captured every detail.
Bo groaned. He had to grab her ass, didn’t he? That seemed to be the internet’s favorite aspect of the clip. A glutton for punishment, Bo scrolled through the comments. They ranged from clever and inventive to lewd to downright invasive, some even threatening.
Fucking hell.
How did this happen? Based on the poor quality, and the angle of the shot, Bo guessed they’d been caught on a security cam. But how did closed-circuit footage from a mall security video end up on an entertainment news feed? And so fast? Was it someone who worked at the mall? A bored security guard looking to make a quick buck?
Possible, but Bo didn’t think so. While the story had spread like dry grass in a meadow fire, it was initially posted on 411 in 312 … the same website that broke the story about Fair is Fair shooting on location at Sadie’s family estate. The same website that posted the bullshit about Sadie getting breast implants.
Someone at that site had an in with the film, and Bo was determined to find out who the asshole was that was writing these stories, and more importantly, track down the even bigger asshole who was leaking them.
Bo scrolled through the three stories, checking the bylines. But the only thing listed was staff reporter. Not surprising. If he was shoveling this shit, he’d want to keep his name hidden too.
It was a big fucking mess, and he needed to figure out how to clean it up. He had to. Disgusted, Bo tossed the phone on his nightstand and fell back into bed. The moment his head hit the pillow, Clark was there, rubbing his furry belly all over Bo’s face.
“I know, buddy, I know.” Bo reached up and scratched the attention-starved feline under the chin. Clark purred, pawing at Bo’s beard. “Watch the claws, you little demon.”
Bo wondered if Sadie had seen the story yet. Should he call her? After the all-nighter filming the escalator scene—which had gone off perfectly if you ignored the unscripted escapade in the hall—the entire cast and crew had decided to descend on a local waffle house to celebrate with an impromptu party.
Too pissed to enjoy the moment, Bo had passed on the invite. He’d thought about inviting Sadie to come back to his place, to celebrate the way they’d been planning for weeks, but considering the current situation, he thought better of the idea. He’d come home and crashed, only to wake a few hours later to discover this fucking delightful development.
Bo decided to hold off on calling Sadie. It was Sunday. Since the shoot at the stable, she’d been heading up to the Murphy estate whenever she had a free weekend. Let her enjoy the day with her grandmother.
He’d be heading up to his parents for dinner soon anyway. He could tell her then.
Sharp little teeth dug into the tip of Bo’s ear. “Clark, you asshole, what have I told you about doing that!” Bo growled, rolling out of bed and dumping his furry tormentor unceremoniously to the floor. “A saddlebag. You hear me?”
Whiskers twitching above that thin stripe of dark fur that had earned him his name, Clark stared at him, unimpressed with his threats. Like Sadie, the cat had the same ability to make it seem like he was looking down at Bo, despite his disadvantage in height.
“Come on, let’s get you some breakfast,” Bo said, heading for the kitchen. “I want to fatten you up before I take you to the tannery.”
Clark squawked irritably. Bo swore the cat understood every word. “Oh, quit your bellyaching. You know I’d never actually go through with it.” He grabbed a can and opened it. “Besides, you’d make one ugly ass saddlebag.”
Another squawk. Bo chuckled ruefully and set the food bowl down. Clark munched away contentedly, not a care in the world. Lucky bastard. Bo scrubbed a hand over his face. “Between you and me, buddy, I’m the one who’s likely to get his hide tanned today.”
* * *
Bo parked his SUV in front of the Murphy mansion. Usually he waited until Thanksgiving to put his motorcycle into storage, but he’d been spending so much time with Sadie, it made more sense to drive his car. He checked his phone. Shit. He was going to be late for Sunday dinner. This day was just getting better and better.
Bracing himself, Bo called his mother. “Hey, Mom.”
“Mijo?” Worry tinged his mother’s voice. “What’s wrong? Why are you calling?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just, ah … I’m just going to be a little late for dinner.”
“What?” Worry turned to annoyance. “Are you bleeding? At the emergency room? Do I need to call the priest?”
“I’m not dying, Mom,” Bo groaned. “I’m at the Murphys. I have to talk to Sadie.”
“Well, invite her to dinner, then,” his mother ordered. “And don’t forget to invite her grandmother too.”
“But, Mom.”
“No buts, Bonifacio. You either walk through my door for dinner on time or arrive late with Miss Sadie and Mrs. Esther. You hear me?”
“I hear you.” His mother would have made a commendable drill sergeant.
Pulling his shit together, he made his way up the brick sidewalk to the Murphys’ front door and rang the bell. It still felt strange, coming to the front entrance. For years he’d sneaked into Sadie’s room through a window or waited for her in the hayloft …
Bo’s entire body infused with heat as an idea occurred to him. He tucked it away in the back of his mind, saving it for later tonight.
* * *
Considering how the first half of his day had gone, Bo had expected dinner to be an epic disaster. The shit icing on his shit cake. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. But the meal ended up being pleasant. Enjoyable even. Toby had taken a shine to Mrs. Murphy immediately, and the two of them chattered and chirped like a couple of barn swallows.
It pulled at something inside Bo, something raw and untapped, to see Sadie’s grandmother dote on his nephew.
Even Luna was more mellow. Polite, almost nice to Sadie.
After dinner, Bo drove the Murphy women back over to the big house and walked Sadie and her grandmother up to the door.
“Would you like to come in for a nightcap?” Mrs. Murphy asked.
“I’d love to, thanks.” Bo nodded and followed the women inside. This could be the opportunity he’d been looking for.
Settled in the parlor with hot tea and a splash of the late Mr. Murphy’s very fine whiskey, Mrs. Murphy turned to Bo.
“Your nephew is a delightful young man,” Sadie’s grandmother said. “How old is he?”
“Seven.” Bo stirred the amber liquid in his tea.
“Luna was eighteen, then?” she asked, not with judgment, but kindly interest.
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” Bo didn’t miss the glances exchanged between Sadie and her grandmother. Thankfully, if Mrs. Murphy was interested to know about anything else to do with Toby, she was polite enough to keep it to herself.
Remembering his own manners, Bo added, “I want to thank you again for letting us film on the estate. Especially at such short notice.”
“Any time. I told Sadie her poppa would have been tickled beyond measure to know a movie was being made on his land. And starring his granddaughter too!”
“It’s a great location for filming. Far enough from the city to make it feel like we’re really out in the country, but close enough to handle the logistics of getting a crew on site.” Bo sat back. “I’ve always loved this property,” he admitted. “There’s nothing quite like walking across the meadow as the sun rises. I miss it, sometimes.”
“Oh?” Mrs. Murphy set her teacup down and tapped her gnarled fingers together. “Then why didn�
�t you accept my offer? You would have made a great estate manager.”
“Wait,” Sadie piped up. She’d been so quiet, Bo had thought she might have fallen asleep in her chair. “You offered the manager position to Bo?”
Nana nodded. “Yes, after the accident.”
Sadie shook her head, turning her attention to him. “And you turned her down?”
Bo shifted in his chair. “It just … wasn’t for me.”
“Why didn’t I know about any of this?” Sadie wondered.
“Well, dear…” her grandmother began, voice tart, “you never asked.” To Bo, she said, “It would have made me very happy if you had accepted the job and taken over for your father, but I understand the need to make one’s own way in this world.”
“Thank you,” Bo said, throat tight with gratitude. Even though he didn’t regret his decision, he’d carried the guilt of his choice for years. “And thanks for the tea, but I should probably be going. Let you ladies get some sleep.”
Stifling a yawn, Sadie stood. “Good idea. I’ll walk you out.” At the door, she yawned again.
Bo brushed a finger down her cheek. “Tired, abeja?”
“A little. I napped when I got here this afternoon, but I still haven’t caught up on sleep after the overnight shoot.”
Damn. Bo frowned. Maybe his plan wasn’t such a good idea after all.
“What is it?” Sadie blinked up at him. “Is something wrong?”
He glanced toward the parlor. Mrs. Murphy was still there, waiting for Sadie to help walk her up to her bedroom.
“Talk to me Bo.”
“Later,” he said, voice low. “Tonight. After your grandmother is in bed.” He paused, then decided to go for it. They’d come so close to sticking to their pact, had been within hours of succeeding. If they were going down in flames anyway, they might as well have some fun first. “The loft.”
“Oh.” Sadie sucked in a breath, a knowing smile drifting across her lips as she nodded. “Okay.”
Once Upon a Bad Boy--A Sometimes in Love Novel Page 26
