with a laugh. Maybe she could do this. If anything, it was good practice.
Shannon leaned forward to set her glass on the coffee table. “Remind me what you do.”
“I’m a second-grade teacher.”
“That’s right. Do you not like your boss?”
“Oh, he’s fine. I work at a private school, and he lets the parents have way too much influence, if you ask me. Just this past week, a parent complained about making leprechaun traps.” Riki went on to tell them about the flurry of emails and the threat Mrs. Trainor made to contact Principal Rosenkrantz. She was so involved in her story, almost high from feeling like she was really fitting in, that it took her a minute to notice their eyes were starting to glaze. She needed to wrap things up. Evelyn and Shannon both worked in the entertainment industry, so hearing about the trials and tribulations of teaching was undoubtedly dull. “Anyway, I completely forgot to give him a heads-up that she was going to contact him and—”
“He was pissed,” Shannon finished.
“Yes.” She wasn’t going to say any more about it. She had driven the conversation into the ground, and she hadn’t even mentioned the red wagon yet. Anecdotes, not dissertations, she reminded herself. No one wanted to hear details anymore. Unless it was about guys.
“It blows my mind how legit adults—like people in their thirties—act like such babies. There’s this actress on one of our shows who acts like a toddler every freaking time something doesn’t go her way. The other day, she didn’t get the revised pages before everyone else, and she was stalking around set in her nude bodysuit complaining. She grabbed our PA, who’s, like, nineteen, and yelled, ‘Who do I have to blow to get my pages?’ The poor thing looked like his balls crawled up into his stomach. He probably won’t be able to get that nasty visual out of his head for a while.”
“That’s hilarious,” Evelyn said. “But terrible. Which actress was it?”
“Mia Marie. But I didn’t tell you that. She’s a nightmare.”
“Aren’t they all?” She turned to Riki with a broad grin. “Well, maybe not all. Your guy is amazing.”
Adrenaline buzzed through Riki’s body. Your guy. She was referring to Brandon. And for a moment in time, he was her guy. Oh, how she wished it were true. “Chris?” she asked, faking a confused look. She wanted to hear Evelyn say it.
“No. Your neighbor. Brandon Taylor.” She said his name like she’d just licked whipped cream from a mug of decadent hot cocoa. “Our producers loved him. He’s coming in Monday for a second producer callback.”
“He told me,” she said casually, wanting Evelyn to know they were close. “He’s really excited about it.”
“Yeah.” She leaned her head against the sofa cushion and sighed. “And can we talk about how freaking hot he is? Seriously. I see hot guys all the time and I’m like, whatever. But Brandon Taylor? Totally TDF.”
“TDF?”
“To die for.”
“Who is this guy?” Shannon asked.
“Oh, trust me. You’ll know that name soon.”
“He’s my neighbor,” Riki said. “And one of the nicest guys I know.”
“You’re so lucky you live near him. Although, if I did, I’d probably end up stalking him or sneaking pictures of him with my phone.”
The stolen headshot flashed through her mind. Maybe taking it wasn’t as big of a crime as she’d made it out to be. Plus, she’d returned it. No harm, no foul. Not once had she snapped a photo of him, and the stalking thing—she certainly wouldn’t stoop to that. Watching him mow the lawn hardly counted as stalking. He was just right there outside her window. Glancing at him was as innocent as noticing the mail carrier.
She’d started to feel stiff and dull when she told them about her work woes, but now she felt fluid and interesting. She wasn’t a freaky robot but someone fascinating with a good story to share. “He’s married, and his wife is a doll, so you probably wouldn’t stalk him.”
“I think I would. That southern drawl and those eyes.” She slapped a hand to her heart. “He was practicing his lines near my desk when he was waiting to go in, and then he was like, I’ve been working on my Baton Rouge accent. How does it sound, sugar? For real? I die every time he talks to me.”
Riki tried to keep her expression neutral. He’d called her sugar? Embry would hate that. A feeling of protectiveness shot through her. If Brandon ever did anything to hurt