Underneath the Sycamore Tree(93)

“Yeah.”

Except that’s a lie. The only woman who should get me this hard with a single memory should be my wife. Unfortunately for me, that isn’t the five-seven figure walking alongside Buchannan as he gives her a tour.

“Definitely thinking about my wife.”

Liv nudges my foot with hers and tips her chin toward the side of the set. “What do you think Buchannan and Kinley are talking about? I doubt his new girlfriend is a fan of her books. I’m not sure she can even read.”

Chuckling over the sad but true knock at the ditzy redhead who Buchannan is stringing along for the time being, I shake my head. “I’m sure they’re going over expectations of the film.”

You know, if expectations were telling her where his hotel is and what number is on the door. I’ve worked with Buchannan before, and even if I didn’t he has a reputation. Women as gorgeous as Kinley Thomas can’t be ignored by men with prying eyes like him.

Olivia full on cackles now. “Yeah, sure. I thought writers were, like, introverted hermits. You know, kinda smelly and sensitive to sunlight.”

I don’t want to tell Liv that Kinley has never fit the stereotypical author role. That would mean I know her, and that’s far from true at this point. Once upon a time, I knew that she loved Twizzlers, action movies, and picking dandelions to make wishes she knew wouldn’t come true. She hated mayonnaise and when people called her anything but her full name. It’s why part of me thought I was breaking the ice by using an old nickname only I ever called her.

Little Bird.

Turns out, I was wrong.

“Well?” Liv presses.

“Hmm?”

“What’s your opinion on Kinley?”

That’s a loaded question.

Besides the film industry, my oldest fascination has been the shy girl who preferred journaling on her own over going out with friends. She has a scar on her left cheek from when her family’s chow-chow bit her that’s only visible in close proximity if you know what you’re looking for. Once she tried covering it up with makeup, but it was the dead of summer and the shit melted off and made it more pronounced. Any flaw she thought she had was a favorite part of her in my eyes—scars, aversion to people, and all.

“She seems like the kind of woman who won’t fall for Buchannan’s tricks,” is what I opt to settle with after thinking on it for too long.

She laughs, letting it go.

“We’re filming in two,” Buchannan yells from his chair at the other end of the set. Next to him is Kinley’s seat, which is placed a little too close. I tell myself it wasn’t her who put the chair there, but it doesn’t ease the irritation bubbling under my skin.

It shouldn’t matter anyway.

Liv gets up and puts the chair back how she found it, shooting me a wink before swaying her hips provocatively where she’s supposed to start the scene by the counter. I roll my eyes at her as I settle on the chair as cued, resting one arm on the edge of the table while watching her closely. My legs are spread, my teeth are digging into my bottom lip, and I study her like I studied Kinley Thomas before I fucked everything up.

“And, action!”

Olivia grabs a wine glass and glances over at me. Her eyes are lust-filled as they scan down my body, landing on the slight bulge beneath my zipper.

“I have a feeling you’re going to be a bad influence,” she says, delivering her line as she begins filling her glass with Pinot Noir.

Swiping my bottom lip with my thumb, I shift in the seat and stare at her exposed ass. “I don’t think you have a problem with that.”

She fights off a grin. “There’s a special place in hell for people like us, you know.”

“People in love?”

She lifts the glass to her lips. “Cheaters.”

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Acknowledgments





A lot of people helped me polish this book, but I want to shout out someone specific first. This is for my mother, who went to every appointment and raised hell when I didn’t have the energy to. I know it was hard, but I appreciate everything you did for me.

To Micalea, my Momager, you know what it’s like to fight an unseen battle. You survived for a reason, never forget that. Even if that reason is to stalk my Instagram stories and slay my posts. I love you, you savage beast.

To Alisha. I know this story hits home for you, and I’m glad I could bring some of your fight to life. Your willingness to dig deep into the vault you never wanted to open again means the world to me. You are a fighter and a survivor.

My betas. You know who you are. You guys have polished my baby to make it the best it can be. Even though most of you said you no longer wanted to talk to me after, know that I appreciate you and all your hard work.

Letitia at RBA Designs brought Emery to life on this cover. I wanted to play with the concept of time and do something so unique that it fit this story perfectly. She did that in one single concept. Thank you for making this my favorite cover ever.

My readers mean the world to me, so thank you for sticking with me. I hope after this you continue to trust me to heal your hearts. Just remember Emery got her happily ever after. She’s with Logan and they’re both pain free.



Until next time, book nerds.