Chase was the face of our company.
He was the one who shook hands and smiled for the cameras. He wasn't a politician, but he was good at dealing with people – government officials, suppliers, and the public in general.
He dressed sharp, talked smart, and made people feel like they really knew him, whether it was true or not.
He had a real knack for marketing, too, which is how we'd gotten the show in the first place. Chase had made it happen. And me? I was making it work.
Unlike my brother, I was the one who got dirty, who inspected the houses and ran the crews. It was the way I liked it, and I didn't need Chase or anyone else honing in on my turf.
But I wasn't worried. Even though I'd offered to trade places, we both knew that Chase wouldn't consider trading any more than I would. He was juggling projects of his own, along with enough crazy chicks to fill an asylum.
With a laugh, he said, "You think I won't."
I made a show of eyeing his hands. No callouses. No scars. No raw knuckles from the occasional mishap. Still, I had to admit, the guy could swing a hammer with the best of them.
When I made no reply, he said, "Eh, forget it. I'm too pretty for construction."
Pretty? It's not how I would've put it. Like myself, the guy was six-foot two and packed with muscle. But I knew what he meant. If he ever decided to give up on the business, he could make a decent fortune modeling underwear.
I wasn't kidding. He'd been offered such a gig already. Then again, I had, too. We all had, even Mason, who had all the charm of a hitman heading to the gallows.
And speaking of gallows, I recalled my murderous new roommate. "Get this," I said. "Arden warned me that if I tossed her off the roof, the show would suffer." I made a scoffing sound. "Like I'd try to kill her."
Of everything she'd said, this was the thing that had set me off. I didn’t like her. But she wasn't worth killing. And more to the point, I took my responsibilities seriously.
The film crew, the carpenters, the plumbers – everyone under me was as safe as I could make them. And whether I liked it or not, this now included Arden Weathers.
She wouldn't be getting hurt. Not if I could help it.
Chase said, "It might not be too bad."
I wasn't following. "What?"
"The roof thing." His tone grew speculative. "Let's say she 'fell off', but landed in a dumpster filled with insulation. The audience – man, they'd eat that shit up." He gave a half-shrug. "Assuming she survived."
From the look on his face, he wasn't kidding.
It was a good reminder that his easy persona was skin deep at best. I replied, "Well, there is that."
He reached up to stroke his chin. "And think of the cliffhanger," he continued. "She goes over, and we're like, 'Tune in next week to see if she makes it.'"
And here I thought I was cold.
I crossed my arms and waited for him to finish.
At something in my expression, he said, "Hey, don't give me that look. If I were Mason, I'd just toss her off and be done with it."
He wasn't joking.
And when I nodded in agreement, neither was I.
There was only one person who hated Arden Weathers more than I did, and that person was my oldest brother, who'd taken a strong personal interest in the torching of my truck.
I told Chase, "Forget it. She's not getting anywhere near the roof."
And if I played my cards right, she wouldn't be getting anywhere near the actual work either.
After last season's fiasco with that dumb-ass interior designer – "Miss LaRue" or whatever she wanted to be called – I'd had more than enough crap from people who didn't know what they were doing.
Chase said, "Don't look so glum. There's still time to back out."
"Of what?"
"The living situation," he said. "Tell Arden you were kidding or that you changed your mind. Or hell, don't tell her anything. Just stay the fuck away. She'll figure it out."
"And let Arden off the hook?" I said. "Forget it."
Maybe a smarter guy would've taken Chase's advice. But I wasn't feeling smart. And backing out now would be all too easy.
For her.
Not me.
And besides, I reminded myself, I was juggling several other projects across the country, which meant that I'd be doing my share of travel – without Arden Weathers.
Good thing, too.
Every time she opened that sweet mouth of hers, something sharp came out to sour my mood – like that thing about tossing her off the roof.
She might not know it, but I ran the safest job sites of anyone I knew. And yeah, maybe Chase or Mason might want to send her flying, but they wouldn't act on it, not while I was around.
And why?
It was because I didn't need the hassle. Or the mess.
And shit, like I'd let a rookie anywhere near the roof.
The way I saw it, Arden had one job – to look pretty for the cameras so Landon Tarrington got his money's worth.
But when the cameras weren't rolling, she could sit at the crew house and mind her own damn business.
It was a nice thought. But Arden, as usual, had ideas of her own.
Chapter 21
Arden
I woke long before dawn, wondering if I'd slept at all. Today would be my first day as a consultant, and I was stupidly nervous.
In spite of Brody's claim that he and Waverly would be staying at the crew house, I'd spent last night alone, with no sign of either one of them.
This should've been a good thing. And it was. But waiting for them to show up at any moment had done a real number on my nerves.
Even now, hours later, the pizza I'd had delivered for last night's dinner
