Hot SEAL, Cold Feet - Becca Jameson Page 0,21

work with you again if you don’t pull your shit together. And, don’t you even think about making contact with Dawson or Brittany B or anyone else from the set again until your contract expires.”

Katia gasped, placing a hand over her chest. “I’ve done nothing wrong.” She even added a fake cry which made Tuck want to groan. Her lip trembled. She was truly a piece of work. “I can’t help it that some fans found us and followed us around. There was no stipulation in the contract that said I couldn’t visit other people from the set.”

Maria stood, clearly done with this conversation. “That was before. This is now. Heed my advice and keep yourself out of the rumor mill.” She headed for the door. “Better get back in the bedroom. The cameras are going to resume rolling in three minutes.” And then she was gone.

Tuck felt like a brick was lying on his chest as he shuffled reluctantly back to the bedroom behind Katia and shut the door. He said nothing as he made his way to the bathroom and locked himself inside.

Fuck. He never should’ve let himself get hopeful. After spending the last four hours thinking maybe this entire gig was up, he was beyond frustrated to find out it was far from over. He was down to fourteen days and twenty hours now though. They couldn’t go by fast enough.

Chapter 11

The following week seemed like an eternity. Every day dragged by as if the clock were ticking far too slowly. It took every ounce of Tuck’s inner strength to follow the script he received each day, interacting with Katia as if the two of them had a love/hate relationship.

The producers knew exactly what they were doing when they set this up. The object was to keep viewers watching as many hours as possible in hopes they would catch a fight or makeup. Ratings went up every single day. Tuck couldn’t believe how many people watched this shit live. Did they not realize it was all pretend?

The fact that Tuck had no acting experience apparently made him look more authentic, whatever the hell that meant. All he could do was follow through with his prompts each morning and pray in one more week he would indeed be granted a giant check.

So far, he’d been able to pay the nursing home every month from the proceeds from the sale of his mother’s home, but that money wasn’t going to last long. This windfall would buy him months of security, especially if he kept all his own personal expenses to a minimum.

Business at Bridgman’s Bar was picking up, which was good for Bill and Jodi but made it harder for Tuck to keep an eye on everyone who came in. About a third of the customers came in just to get a picture with him. This pissed Tuck off and made him grumble, but it seemed to please Bill, who simply shrugged and said Tuck was the best thing that ever happened to him. He didn’t acknowledge the fact that while Tuck was busy with his numerous photo shoots, he was not doing the job he was hired for. His attention was always divided.

Stan mostly chuckled under his breath from behind the bar, probably glad all the attention wasn’t on him. At about thirty-five, he was often the focus of many women’s attention because he was about six foot nine. Slender. Friendly to everyone.

Roxie was always a crapshoot. Sometimes she was flirty and cute and funny. Other times she looked like she might strangle the next woman who posed for a picture. Tuck didn’t get her at all. He hoped she didn’t create problems for Jodi. She was a good waitress, but in the end, if she thought she had a chance with Tuck, she was wrong.

Both Liz and Jacob had informed Tuck more than once that he needed to eat up all the publicity and smile more so that he didn’t piss off his fans—both male and female. This only made him grouchier. His contract only said he had to remain married to Katia for three months. It didn’t say a word about him having a chipper attitude, and he sure wasn’t feeling it.

He did his best to play nice with the Cold Feet fans without letting it affect his job. Luckily, they didn’t get too out of control fawning over him. He considered instating a two-drink minimum at the door just to cut down on the number