Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Oh, bless you.” Ambrose emerged from the spare room he was using as an office, Hercules fast on his heels. The midcentury home had come furnished, but it hadn’t taken long before Ambrose put his stamp on things, including the dining area, with new red chair covers, a printed table runner, and softer lighting. I loved the space because we ate here together when our schedules allowed, and it had a nice view of the backyard and hot tub area.
“Today was long.” Ambrose fetched a beer for me, one of the local ales I’d discovered in our quest to visit as many places with outdoor patios as possible before the weather turned cool. For himself, he grabbed a glass and the remainder of the white burgundy we’d had the night before with some butter-basted fish fillets and grilled vegetables from a weekend trek to the farmers’ market. “Thanks for grabbing food.”
“No problem.” I set out plates and silverware before we both sat. “Now, tell me all about this long day.”
“I love that you actually seem to enjoy my shop talk.” He offered me a fond smile as we dished up the food.
“I do love it.” I moved a particularly pretty piece of broccoli from my plate to his. “And you always listen to my day too. But today, you had the big love scene.”
We’d both been counting down to the filming of the mid-season cliffhanger, not just because it marked the start of a several-week break in production but also because of what this meant for Bishop’s ongoing character arc. Ambrose was getting the chance to see his vision play out with the sort of scope and detail he wanted, and I could honestly listen to him debate nuance and production notes for hours.
“You’re just here for the three-way details,” he teased as he gave me some of the meat from his entrée.
“Guilty. But you gotta admit, it’s a diabolical twist.” Bishop in bed with not one but two of his love interests was the sort of thing that would have been hard to get away with in prime time. It was the perfect envelope pusher for a streaming show and fit Ambrose’s plan to keep viewers guessing about the endgame relationships until the final episodes.
“It is.” Ambrose offered a weary grin before taking a sip of his wine. “And I’ll tell you all about it, and then you can tell me about who you tossed around today.”
“You’re just here for my muscles.” I used his exact same tone of voice, and he laughed. Hercules had settled himself under the table, undoubtedly hoping for scraps.
“Guilty.” He smirked, but he really did love hearing about whenever I had to handle rowdy participants and audience members for the reality competition show I was currently managing security for. They’d just been renewed for another season, so I’d return to the show in January, after our holiday break in California. Ambrose licked his lips, naughty tilt to his mouth. “And your skills handling meat.”
“Is that a request for later or a reference to me testing turkey recipes?” I had been going a bit nuts the past few weekends, trying different things for Ambrose’s family’s dinner at his place and Danny’s Friendsgiving at his and Cash’s. We were in charge of the meat for both events, and as soon as I heard Duncan and Ezra were making pie with apples they picked together, I decided to level up.
“Cressida’s going to flip when she finds out you’re grilling the bird.” Ambrose looked quite gleeful at the prospect.
“She’ll be so happy to have you home for a few weeks that she’ll forgive me any turkey sins.” I took a long sip of beer. Cressida liked me, or she at least tolerated me as well as she did the rest of humanity. She was so busy with her new network job that her contribution to Thanksgiving was directing her assistant to pick up the wine along with the newlyweds and Lex from the airport.
“Oh, that reminds me. Lex is bringing a date.” Ambrose’s eyes danced.
“Forget Bishop’s love scene. Tell me everything about our favorite nibling.” I abandoned my beer in favor of leaning forward.
“Our.” He made a dreamy noise.
“What?”
“You said our. Our nibling.”
“Oh.” I narrowed my eyes. I could have sworn I’d said that before, likely at some point in the endless discussions about holiday prep, but maybe he hadn’t caught it. “I don’t get to claim Lex too? I mean, don’t tell Sue and Dale’s brood, but—”
He cut me off by coming around the table to plop down in my lap. “Of course you can claim Lex. Now, kiss me. I love you.”
“Love you too, boss.” I kissed him to remind him how good I was at the other kind of meat handling, but when he pulled back, he looked more sentimental than turned on.