position. “I understand. But what if nothing comes of it? You’ll make things uncomfortable for no reason.”
“True.” He cocks his head. “Good point. Seventy-five percent of this business is talk that never comes through.”
I hate even bringing this up but can’t seem to help myself. “Does that mean you’ll have to—”
“Nope. First thing I asked. He says he’ll set it up somewhere in L.A.” He leans down and presses a brief kiss to my cheek. “I don’t want to be away from you any more than I have to.”
“I don’t mean to be selfish…”
He brushes his knuckles under my chin and tips my head back. “You know how happy it makes me that you want me around as much as I want to be around you?”
After a few seconds, he backs up and glances out the sliding glass door. Alvin’s busy clearing off the wrought-iron patio furniture we’ve only used a handful of times since we moved into the house. Chaser returns his gaze to me. “Cutter also let it slip that the reason he was so adamant about all of us staying in Vancouver through the mixing was that the label was considering dropping us if the album wasn’t finished in a timely fashion.”
“Oh my God. Really?”
“Yeah, the shooting, the amount of time it took us to finish the EP, rumors of Jacob’s drug habits, my arrest…none of it made them happy.”
“What about…They don’t know about your…?”
“No. Thank fuck I kicked my problem before it got back to the suits. If they caught wind that both of us were addicts, they might’ve gone ahead and cut us loose.” He squeezes me tighter, resting his hands on my butt. “I have you to thank for that.”
“Me? I didn’t do anything special, Chaser.”
“Yes, you did. You stuck with me. Believed in me. Didn’t take any shit from me. I’ve never properly thanked you for all of it.”
“Yes, you did.” I poke his chest and smile up at him. “In front of the whole world when you accepted your Guitar God award.”
“Right.” He releases me and lifts his chin toward the counter. “What’re we doing here?”
“Pasta salad.” I point to the bowls set up along the counter. “Just chopping those up.”
He boosts me onto the counter. “I’ve done enough yapping. I want to hear more about the pilot. I’ll do the chopping while you give me all the details you didn’t over the phone.”
“Hmm.” I swipe a carrot off the cutting board and munch on it while I think over the few days of filming. “Everyone’s so nice. They’ve all worked together on different shows or movies over the years. I guess Mr. Southgate tends to hire and re-hire the same people if he likes them. He’s very loyal.”
“Unusual in Hollywood.”
“Right? No one made me feel like an outsider or anything. Madeline’s really sweet. Super bubbly and talkative but so…nice. I never realized I had this negative impression of her because of all the crap written in the scandal papers. But she’s nothing like they say.”
Chaser grunts. “We’ve learned the hard way that most of what they print is outright lies.”
“True.” I grab another carrot. “The outfits are hilariously ridiculous. Like, huge shoulder pads and wild prints—stuff I don’t think anyone, let alone teenagers, would wear in real life. But the wardrobe people are so much nicer. And no crotch rub from skimpy bathing suits.”
A teasing smile flickers over his lips. “The only crotch-rubbing you should be getting is from me.”
I snort. “I hate to break it to you, but I’m looking forward to not having to wax my entire undercarriage every couple of weeks.”
He sets the knife down, squeezes his eyes shut, and shakes with laughter. “Jesus, Mallory.” He steps between my knees and rests his hands on my hips. “Shave it, wax it, shape it into a bonsai tree, let it grow into a little jungle if it makes you happy. Nothing’s going to keep me away from your undercarriage.”
“Christ, is that what passes for sweet talk these days?” Alvin says from behind us. “No wonder I’m still single.”
Thoroughly embarrassed, I drop my gaze to my sandals and shake my head.
“That’s what you get for being a creeper.” Chaser picks up a celery stalk and flings it in Alvin’s direction.
Alvin catches it and takes a big, crunchy bite. “Steaks are done,” he mumbles around the mouthful. “Come on, Tarzan, grab Jane and let’s eat.”
Chaser pelts Alvin with the remaining carrots.
“Stop wasting my vegetables,” I scold, but I’m laughing so hard,