TAMING HOLLYWOOD'S BADDEST BO- Max Monroe Page 0,37

magazine, and literally giving zero fucks about anything.

Every once in a while, he steals a glance at Bailey and gives him a few extra bites of food, but otherwise, he is occupied with whatever is inside that magazine.

A magazine I offered him, sure, but I didn’t really want him to read the darn thing. I wanted him to open it up, spot the screenplay, and, wowed by my ability to create a ploy of distraction, read it.

But no. Not Luca Weaver. That’d be too easy, right?

Momma used to say, “Impossible men aren’t as impossible as they seem. Once you crack that hard shell of theirs, they’re soft and gooey on the inside.”

Sorry, Momma, but I call bullshit. Daddy might have been chemically composed like the inside of a Godiva truffle, but Luca Weaver is solid as a rock. A giant stone peppered with little sparkles of ill-tempered blowups, explicit commentary, and hardheadedness to rival my own, he is, without a doubt, the most impossible man I’ve ever met.

I busy myself with the not-too-bad dinner of beans and corn—it certainly beats the damn granola and protein bars Earl packed for me—and stare at the fire, trying to figure out my next move. I didn’t come on this trip for the hell of it. I’m here to convince him to take a meeting with Serena. To read a screenplay. To do a fucking incredible movie.

To save my motherclucking job.

The fire glows red and orange, and smoke drifts off the tips of the flames—a perfect, painful metaphor for what’s about to happen to my career.

Ugh. Sometimes I hate my own brain.

I shake off the thought and move my gaze out toward the trees, but with the sun resting and only the moon and stars held tight in the sky, those trees are more like a void of black nothingness. If it weren’t for the flicker from the fire, I wouldn’t even be able to tell they’re trees at all.

And it’s all so damn quiet, it’s almost eerie.

I move my eyes back to the fire, and then to a now-snoozing Bailey, but my gaze is quickly brought back toward the trees when I hear something…rustling.

My back jerks painfully straight and my senses dial up so fast, I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. I don’t know what’s out there, but it’s something.

I stare toward the forest until spots start to dance in front of my eyes, waiting for the moment of attack.

And then…the noise happens again.

A rustling and a shaking.

“What was that?” I ask, my voice jittery and terrified even to my own ears, but Luca barely looks up from his stupid magazine. I don’t even think it’s possible to read at this point. I mean, the fire is bright, but it isn’t that bright.

“Did you hear that?” I question again, this time more urgently.

“Probably just a bear,” he replies calmly.

“Pardon, but what did you just say?” I ask, certain I couldn’t have heard what I think I did, because tranquil, soothing tones are in no way freaking appropriate when big, man-eating creatures are lurking nearby!

“I said it’s probably just a bear.”

Oh Jesus Christ! I think this guy needs to see a professional. Some kind of emotional reflex specialist…or something. We’ve got tons of people in LA who would be willing to overcharge him to analyze the complexities of his emotive shortcomings.

“There are…” I pause, and my heart damn near skips a beat. “Bears out here, and you’re just gonna sit here like you’re a lady who lunches?”

He nods. “There are wolves too.”

“What?” I question, then my voice goes louder. “What?”

His lips quirk up with amusement.

“This is not funny!” I whisper-yell this time, because wolves and bears—holy hell, I don’t want to encourage them to come over here!

He shrugs. “It’s kind of funny.”

“Luca! How in the hell could you bring us out here if there are bears and wolves?!”

“I didn’t bring us out here. I brought Bailey and myself out here. You took it upon yourself to join the fun.”

“Oh my god!” I whisper on a groan. “What if they come over here? What if they attack my tent?”

“Trust me, princess, that god-awful pink tent is a deterrent to just about any living thing on the planet.”

“Funny ha-ha,” I snap back, but honestly, I don’t really know what’s coming out of my mouth. I think I’m too busy having a mental breakdown.

“You’re safe. We’re safe. Just relax, Billie,” he says like it’s no big deal. Like it’s so easy to relax right now,