Sensing the accusation in the quick flit of her eyes, he put his hands up. “Hey, it wasn’t me.”
Heather took a breath. “My father…”
The girl’s eyes doubled in size. “Dean? He’s here?” She peered past Seth into the bedroom, her spine straight, ready to fight.
“You just missed him,” Seth volunteered when Heather seemed unable to answer.
“Oh, shit. Hold on.” The girl pulled out her phone from her pocket and dialed. After a few seconds she said, “Hey, it’s Lexie. Heather’s got a migraine.”
“I just need a few minutes,” Heather whispered.
The girl—Lexie—nodded as she continued her conversation. “No, she’s taken something for it, but we need a few more minutes for it to get working. I’ll get her there as soon as I can.”
Seth watched Heather as Lexie finished her call. He was intrigued by how the young girl came in and took care of business without waiting for permission. Even more intriguing was how Heather let her. He suspected there were few people Heather let take charge, how hard it must have been for her to trust him. His chest swelled with the sudden clarity.
As well as Lexie seemed to handle the situation, there was still something else that needed to be done. “We should call security.”
“No,” both women said at same time.
“But, Lexie,” Heather went on, “the guard does need to get canned. He let Dean on the lot. Can you contact whoever it is in charge of that?”
“I’ll take care of it.”
Seth flexed and relaxed his hands, needing something to occupy himself, needing something to do. She hadn’t asked him to leave. Yet. She hadn’t asked him to stay either. Well, he might be signing his walking papers, but he had to know. “How can I help, Heather?”
To her credit, she paused before she answered. “Nothing. You can’t help this.”
Like hell there was nothing he could do to help. He could help her in so many ways if she let him. He got this. He understood drug addicts and desperation and being ashamed of his parent.
But it would take a fight to try and convince Heather. This wasn’t the time for that. “Okay. I better get back to work, then.”
He wanted her to ask him to stay. She didn’t.
“You must be the carpenter.” Lexie held out her hand to him. Strangely, it felt like she was postponing his departure.
“You must be the assistant.” He shook her hand.
“Very nice, Heather.” She clicked her tongue appreciatively. “Very nice.”
“Not now. Please.” Heather rubbed her temples. “I need to freshen up.” She turned toward the bedroom then stopped, remembering something. “Lexie…”
Her assistant could read her mind. “I’ll get your valium.”
“Perfect. Thanks.” Heather disappeared into the bedroom, shutting the partition behind her.
Since Lexie hadn’t moved, Seth took the opportunity to get some answers. “Hey, what’s the deal with all that?”
“Look, she can hear me so I can’t talk to you.”
Right. Of course not.
He turned to leave, but Lexie put a hand on him to stop him. Loudly, she said, “I’d love to help, but, you know. My job and all.” Seth watched as Lexie dug in a drawer and found a notepad and pen. She continued talking while she scrawled something. “My loyalty is with Heather,” she said as she ripped off the paper and handed it to Seth. “Clearly.”
“Yeah, yeah. I understand.”
Though he didn’t understand. Not until he read the paper. It had Lexie’s number and a message, Call me and I’ll clear things up.
“So you better leave now.”
Seth looked up at Lexie and found her smiling. “Thank you.”
Her reply was a whisper. “Anytime.”
Chapter Fourteen
Heather glanced at the dashboard clock before leaning forward to look in the passenger mirror as she applied makeup to her right eye. Out and about at nine o’clock in the morning on her one day off from set was not what she called a good time. Why Lexie thought she’d be cool with it made her seriously question her assistant’s judgment.
Though Heather had already spent the morning bitching about it, she wasn’t done. “Day off doesn’t mean day to do PR shit. It means day off.”
“We’ve been over this,” Lexie said, glancing over her shoulder as she flipped on the turn signal. “It’s for Urban Arts. You never tell them no.”
“I rarely turn them down. Not never. There’s a difference.” She certainly wouldn’t have booked herself for an Urban Arts gig during a film run. Days on set were long. Twelve to fifteen hours long. Days away were treasured. She needed them to catch up on her sleep, to get in a good workout. To schedule a much needed waxing.
Though there hadn’t been any need to keep trimmed in the lower regions since Dean had shown up five days before. She’d had zero intimate time, only seeing Seth in passing on set and acknowledging his texts with brief responses. It wasn’t like she’d been avoiding him exactly. Just kinda sorta.
“At least I didn’t book you for the Jenna Markham interview.”
Heather rolled her eyes. She heard Jenna Markham’s name so much from Lexie, she was beginning to wonder if her assistant was trying to keep her riled up. “Whatever. You bring her up every time you’re mad at me.”
“Her people call every day, Heather. I turn them down constantly. What if I accidentally said yes one of those times?”
“Is that your lame attempt at a threat?”
The car lurched as Lexie slammed on the brakes causing Heather to smear her mascara. “Dammit, Lex, what the f**k?”
Lexie threw up her middle finger toward the car in front of them then fixed a glare on her boss. “Heather, you’ve been a crab-ass for days. Stop. Now. I mean it, I can’t take any more.”
Heather bit back the nasty comments she wanted to return and licked her finger before rubbing at the smudged black makeup under her eye. She didn’t want to piss off her only friend, and Lexie’s patience seemed to be wearing thin.
Way thin, since Lexie’s lecture wasn’t over. “Now, I’m sorry you had to get up on your one day off, but it will do you good to do something for someone else for a change instead of wallowing in that pity party you’ve got going on. It’s getting old, Heather. And it’s unattractive.”