“I sure did,” I say as I slide on my boots, trying to avoid touching my ankle as much as possible. “If you’re sure it’s okay, Tommy, I’ll head home.”
“I can take her,” Drew says, looking at Tommy and then me. “I’ve got her.”
I stare at him slack-jawed, then close my mouth. Carter’s hands are on my body (again, in a completely helpful and nonsexual way, but still), so you’d think Drew could see I don’t need his help whatsoever.
“I’ve got it, man,” Carter says with a tight smile.
“I’m not even in this scene,” Drew says, taking another step toward me. “Whereas every scene of this movie needs proper lighting. Seriously. It’s fine.”
“Seriously, I’ve got it—” Carter starts, and then someone calls his name. He looks over his shoulder and groans.
“I’m fine, everyone,” I say, addressing the small crowd that’s rapidly dispersing. “I just have to . . . walk it off. It’s only a couple of blocks.” I attempt to take a step on my own and almost fall down.
“I’m not letting my assistant fall into some shrubbery because she’s injured,” Tommy says. “Carter, I need you here on set. Drew, make sure Annie gets home.”
“You want me to order a Lyft?” Brody asks, but before he even has the question out, Drew’s lifted me up.
“Excuse me!” I shriek. “What are you doing?”
“Walking you home,” he says with more of a grunt than I think is absolutely necessary. “What’s the point of having all these muscles if I never get to use them?”
“Oh, my God,” I mutter as we walk past everyone on set, all of them staring at us. I look over Drew’s shoulder at Carter and mouth, “Sorry!” as I wave. He gives me that raised-hand dude wave, a look on his face that I can’t entirely decipher.
But I find it very hard to worry about Carter when I think about where I am: in Drew’s capable arms.
“Wave to the people, Annie,” Drew says. “Your loyal subjects await your greetings.”
I groan but offer up a weak wave.
I tell Drew to keep walking down the street to get to my house, and I wonder if the German Village residents are going to be confused that a guy is carrying a woman down the sidewalk. But then the Coatless Wonder walks by, and I remember that we see weirder stuff than this most days.
Drew turns his head to watch the Coatless Wonder walk away. “Is that guy not cold? It’s, like, twenty-five degrees out here.”
“Hey,” I say, changing the subject, because Drew’s carrying me like a particularly large baby and/or sack of potatoes and it’s making me feel a little awkward to have his hand so close to my butt. “Did you know there’s a picture of us on a gossip website?”
Drew frowns, and since he’s holding me inches from his face, I see every single line that frown creates around his mouth. The way his eyelashes curl a little more than you’d expect. The way his cheeks flush pink from the cold. The way his bottom lip sticks out when he’s thinking . . .
“I don’t ever look at them. What was it?”
He looks at me, our faces so close that the eye contact is uncomfortably intimate. I look at his coat as I answer. “It was some pictures of us at McDonald’s. They knew my name—I guess they called Nick’s and one of his employees, Tobin, didn’t know he shouldn’t tell them who I was.”
Drew grimaces. “That happens a lot. They’ll have a ‘source’ who claims to be very close to you, and then it turns out the ‘source’ is someone you went to high school with who you maybe sat beside in English once.”
“It’s weird knowing my picture and my name are out there for anyone to look at,” I say. Swaying in Drew’s strong and secure grip, I could probably go to sleep right this moment. “Do you get used to it?”
“Never,” he says, so serious that I wonder how those pictures of him and his grandpa ended up online.
“I saw a picture of you and your grandpa,” I say before I can think about how weird it sounds to admit that. But then again, he did see me googling him, so he already knows I’m a big creep.
I wince. “I mean, I know it was crappy of me to look you up, but I did, and I saw the picture and—”
Drew’s chest vibrates as he groans. “Yeah. That picture. I can’t