TAMING HOLLYWOOD'S BADDEST BO- Max Monroe Page 0,100

best fucking queso that’s ever touched my lips.

Margaritas are flowing, and the food hasn’t stopped since we stepped in the door.

Surely, I’ll walk out with an extra few pounds of cheese attached to my ass and hips.

But it’ll be worth it.

Production bought out the bar for the night, and as I look around, I’m happy to see a lot of familiar faces. Our director, Mei Chen. Denny from the lighting department. Bob with the camera crew. Olivia and Callie. Laura from the wardrobe department. Lots of actors and actresses, including Lucy Larson, the film’s female lead.

Oh, and Charles. Yeah, he’s here too.

My eyes go wide when I recognize one face in particular and tuck my phone back into my pocket.

The one person I never would’ve thought would come here tonight.

Luca stands at the bar, chatting with Lucy, and I hate the way my heart twinges at the visual of those two beautiful celebrities smiling and laughing with each other.

Are you seriously jealous right now?

I have no reason to be jealous. Luca Weaver isn’t anything to me but an actor working on one of Serena’s movies. That’s it. End of fucking story.

Lucy laughs, and I have to avert my eyes.

Sure doesn’t seem like the end of the story…

I roll my eyes at my stupid internal monologue and take a long, hearty drink of the peach margarita in front of me.

“Best margaritas ever, right?” Serena asks with a little grin, and I nod.

“A little too good, if you know what I mean.”

“I sure do.” A robust laugh escapes her throat. “So much that once I finish this one, I’m calling it a night.”

“What? Why are you leaving so early?”

“Because I have to catch an early flight back to LA. Don’t want to miss Maddie’s piano recital tomorrow afternoon.”

Maddie is her youngest daughter. She’s twelve, smart as a whip, and musically inclined, and Serena never misses a single recital, even when we’re in the middle of a project.

“You’re a good mom,” I say, and honesty fills my voice. “I don’t know how you juggle all the things, but somehow, you manage it so gracefully.”

“It’s because I’m a vampire,” she teases. “I don’t sleep.”

It’s my turn to laugh, and I pretend to scrutinize her face, tapping my chin thoughtfully. “You know, I knew there was something off about you…”

Serena cackles, and Olivia and Callie join in on the fun.

We stay at the bar, my back toward whatever is going on behind me, and chat for another twenty minutes about anything and everything, but mostly, the film.

Not long after, Serena makes good on her promise and leaves El Camino before the rest of her team. But not before telling everyone she better not see any stories on TMZ when she gets back to LA.

The most challenging part of Espionage is the grueling travel schedule.

In four days, we’re supposed to head to New York—our last stop in the US. After that, we’ll be overseas—France, Russia, Israel, just to name a few of the international filming locations we’ll be checking off our production list.

Since we’re ahead of our shooting schedule, most of the cast and crew will enjoy a few days of free time in Austin before needing to head to our next location.

Well, pretty much everyone but Serena and me.

Tomorrow morning, I have a flight to West Virginia, to visit my hometown.

I need to check on Granny’s house, and well, two days from now marks the anniversary of my parents’ death. Every year, I try to make sure I spend that particular afternoon at the cemetery. And, thankfully, since we’re ahead of the game on our schedule, this year, I’ll keep the tradition going.

“Come on, Billie,” Olivia says, and I look up from the table to find her standing with her hand held out toward me, and Callie standing beside her. “Come dance with us.”

I laugh and shake my head. “I’m good.”

“No, you certainly are not,” Olivia refutes. “Get your cute little ass up, and let’s go. You’re literally the only one in this bar wearing boots. And we’re in fucking Texas. You have to dance.”

A giggle and a sigh escape my lips at the same time, but I give in to their demands and get on the dance floor with them. The song switches from Dixie Chicks to Patsy Cline, and in true Harris fashion, I put my fingers in my belt loops and start to line dance.

Every wedding I’d ever been to in West Virginia included lots of country music and line dancing. Needless