Meet Cute by Elise Faber (buy e reader .txt) 📕

. . . me holding this man under the moonlight, knowing that, as unfeasible as it might seem, he had found a slice of heaven in my arms.

No strings. No rules. No barriers. Just love driving my every action, Talbot in my heart . . .

And I knew that I wouldn’t go wrong so long as I kept him there.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Talbot

I got the results just after I had lost my sword in a big battle and been captured by the enemies. The director called cut, and we all began to go our separate ways for the evening.

The P.A. came over with my cell in her hand. “Tammy’s on the line.”

Taking it with a thanks, I stepped away from everyone and headed toward my trailer. I was covered with fake blood and grime, had a simulated cut on my cheek and one down my forearm. My shirt was in tatters, my chain mail having already been removed by the costume crew, and I was holding my breath as I listened to Tammy say hello on the other end of the line.

“Hi, baby,” she said.

“How was your day?” I asked.

“No escapades with the Milk Caper, if that’s what you’re asking. How was yours? Your knight get all the baddies yet?”

“Unfortunately not.” A beat. “I miss you.”

She was back in Utah, had left on my plane with me, the pilot making a pit stop to drop her at a private airport outside of Darlington, while I’d flown on to England.

We’d been together three weeks, and I missed her like we’d been together for three years. Missed her even more when she did things like she was doing right now—a quiet sigh, her tone soft. “Tal,” she said, before her voice returned to its normal crisp tenor. “None of that. We promised.”

“You badgered,” I pointed out. “I finally just gave in.”

“And you’ve discovered the reason our relationship is working.”

I laughed. “You’re perfect for me?”

“Damned right, I am,” she said, with a laugh, but her voice was all soft and sweet, mirroring the way I loved her. Okay, that was a lie, because I loved her any which way, but most especially when she went back to her commanding, police officer tone and added, “I have the night shift tonight, so I need to tell you—”

And that was when I knew.

“He’s my father, isn’t he?”

A moment of silence.

Then a barely audible, “Yes. I’m sorry to say, he is.”

I hadn’t made it back to my trailer, and the news had my feet freezing for several long moments.

“Tal?” she asked.

I unstuck, kept walking until I made it back to the white vehicle, reaching for the door and tugging it open but not stepping inside. “I’m here,” I said. “I’m . . . not okay exactly.” But I realized now that some part of me must have known that was who the man was from the moment Maggie had called, a little more than ten days ago now.

“Do you need me to fly over?”

She would, too.

I knew that without a doubt.

“No,” I said. “I have some stuff to sort out, starting with why he’d want to hurt me, but . . . I’m going to put it aside for now and just focus on the now. On us. On the film.” And not why my father had shown up with all that rage, why he’d come after all these years, how he’d known where I lived—though I supposed the last wasn’t too difficult considering the mob I’d had outside my gate. “I just . . . I guess part of me had already accepted that it was likely, and now . . .”

“You have the answer, but not the why. The toxicology report shows numerous substances,” she said gently. “So, that’s probably a big part of the why.”

That was true, especially since it was a big part of the why of my childhood.

Drugs, and how they could devastate a family.

“Yeah,” I whispered, finally stepping inside.

“You sure you don’t want me to come over?” she asked. “I’m sure Rob would give me some more time off.”

“No, sweetheart. I’ll be okay.” A beat as I closed the door behind me. “I’ll call you if things get dicey and—”

“You’d better.”

I looked up.

Because that voice had registered both through my phone and also through the . . . air. Tammy was standing in my trailer, smudges beneath her eyes, a backpack at her feet, and the softest, gentlest smile on her lips. My cell ended up on the couch. She ended up in my arms.

“What are you doing here?”

Her fingers brushed my jaw. “I’m here because I care.”

My heart thudded, and I hugged her tighter. “God, I love you.”

Lips on my cheek, hands in my hair. “I love you, even though I’m now covered with fake blood and dirt.”

“Shit.” I pulled back so that her gray sweatshirt was stained with smudges of brown and smears of red. “I’m sorry.”

Her fingers trailed down my chest, through the tatters of my costume shirt. “Although,” she murmured, “I do have to say that I don’t mind this look too much, even if it is a little messy.” She stepped close again.

“Wait.” I caught her wrists, not wanting to get her any dirtier than she already was.

“No, I don’t think I will wait.” Her arms came around my neck, her front pressed to mine, and I groaned at the feel of her breasts on my naked chest, even with the layers of fabric between us. “You know the best part about you in this role?”

“What’s that?” I managed, even though I was having a very hard time concentrating with her hips undulating against mine.

“You being all dirty,” she murmured, rising on tiptoe and her lips finding mine, “and you getting me all dirty means that we get to wash it off.” A brush of her mouth. “Together.”

“Together?” I asked.

“Yup.” She glanced over my shoulder. “I’m guessing you have a shower in here?”

“It’s tiny.”

Her smile turned wicked. “Well, even luckier for us.”

That wicked grin snapped