Meet Cute (Love, Camera, Action #5) - Elise Faber Page 0,36

. . it was hard to separate what she felt for me when I was the one signing her paychecks. Perhaps that wasn’t fair. No, I knew it wasn’t, but it was also what I felt, as unfair as it was.

“I could understand that,” Tammy murmured. “But she loves you. She would do anything to make sure you’re safe.”

I knew that, too.

“It’s not the same,” I whispered. “You didn’t get anything out of helping me. In fact, you’re probably only going to get screwed because your personal life is going to be infiltrated, you’re going to have to deal with the media following you until this eventually blows over. You helped me, and because of that, you’re fucked.”

“I’m not fucked.” She covered my hand with her own, and I half-expected her to tug it off. But then she simply kept it there. “I help people because it’s my job, because I’m trained to do it. It’s instinct to step in.”

Ouch.

Ouch.

Perhaps that was worse than Maggie being my friend and employee. No, it definitely was worse because this was a woman I cared about, far too much for the all of one day I’d known her, had only helped me because it was her job, her calling to save people.

It was not about me.

Probably the nearly physical slap of that thought slamming around my brain, sending my ears ringing, my heart thudding, shouldn’t have been a surprise. Maybe it was all about my ego being pricked, me being brought back down to earth like all the rest of the populace.

But all I could think was . . . fuck, that hurt.

I swallowed, gently peeled my hand from her cheek, and retreated a step.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Tal . . .”

God, why did she have to call me that? Hardly anyone shortened my name, and certainly no one made it sound like she did—gentle, with an edge of need. The longing I felt from my shortened name on her tongue was intense. I wanted her to call me that, to use that tone, forever.

Meanwhile, I was just a responsibility, her contribution to the universe, a police officer doing her job, a decent woman doing a nice thing.

“I . . . um . . .” I glanced toward the hall, wanting, no needing to escape. “You know what? I forgot I needed to do . . . something,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”

Turning and heading out of the room, I almost mowed Maggie down in the hallway but managed to catch her arm and steady her before I all but ran for my bedroom like an upset teenager.

Pathetic.

Probably.

But I was feeling as lovestruck and heartbroken as one, so it fit.

Chapter Sixteen

Tammy

I’d hurt him.

I hadn’t meant to, but I’d done it anyway.

And now, I felt like the absolute biggest jackass on the planet. I took a step toward the hall, intending on following him, but Maggie caught my wrist.

“It’s better to let him have his space when he’s like this.”

Jealously. Again.

That she knew this man better than I did, when I hadn’t even known Talbot for more than twenty-four hours. It was ludicrous to feel that way, and yet, I’d been compartmentalizing things left and right, willy-nilly over the last day.

What was one more?

I’d just pretend that I wasn’t falling for a very unsuitable man, that our two lives—wholly different and completely incompatible—would go on without the slightest hiccup or speed bump.

Also—side note to my pretending—Maggie had another thing coming if she thought I was going to leave that man hurting until he managed to pull a mask around himself enough to fake being fine. I had too much fucking experience at doing that to willingly allow another person to do it under my watch.

To do it because of me.

I shook her off. Gently, because it was Maggie. Then took another step toward the hall.

Her voice trailed me. “Let’s talk about what we should—”

“I don’t care about shoulds,” I said. “I’m going to talk to him.”

“It’s better—”

I spun back to face her. “With all due respect, I don’t give a fuck about better right now.” And with that, I strode down the hall, glancing in each room of the giant house as I walked, searching for the man in question and not finding him until I opened the closed bedroom door.

He didn’t move from his position, staring out the large glass windows, even though I wasn’t particularly quiet when I walked in.

And I knew I had a choice.

I could walk back out. I could