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  At least now, he was holding the camera loose at his side, which told me that he wasn't filming at the moment.

  Thank God.

  And yet, for some stupid reason, I almost felt like crying.

  Judging from Roy's cheerful smile, he didn't feel like crying. No. Not him. With no trace of awkwardness, he said, "So…you ready to mow?"

  I blinked. "What?"

  "The lawn," he said. "I've got an idea – a way to solve the 'before' problem."

  The before problem? Oh, that's right. I'd ruined their "before" footage by working on the yard.

  Waverly said, "You mean her screw-up?"

  I turned to glare at her. "Hey! Maybe I wouldn't've 'screwed up' if someone had told me not to mow it."

  With a nasty smirk, she shot back, "We shouldn't have to tell you. Let's get real here. It's not exactly natural to go around mowing lawns that aren't your own."

  On this, she might've had a point. But I was in no mood to be reasonable. I plastered on a smirk of my own. "Yeah. And it's not exactly 'natural' to shove a mower up someone's ass. But hey, I'm game if you are."

  She drew back. "What's wrong with you, anyway?"

  It was a good question. This wasn't me. I mean, yeah, I didn't like Waverly, and she'd been on my case from the get-go. But who was I kidding? I'd never shove a mower up anyone's ass.

  As if the stupid thing would fit anyway.

  I was just debating an apology when I happened to look to Roy.

  Son-of-a-bitch.

  He was filming me.

  Again.

  Already, it was like a nightmare that wouldn't end.

  And later on that night, after a full day in front of Roy's persistent camera, the "fun" only continued.

  Chapter 26

  Arden

  At the crew house, Waverly was standing just inside the front door, surrounded by at least a dozen suitcases. She looked to me and demanded, "Where's Brody?"

  I was still marveling at the number of cases. Were they all hers? They must be, because they'd arrived at the same time she had.

  And yet, she hadn't lugged in a single one herself. Instead, she'd left that dubious honor to Jerry, who'd had to make five trips out from the SUV.

  Turns out, Jerry hadn't been kidding about that whole "gopher" description.

  Now, unlike Waverly, he was gone, along with the SUV, which made me wonder what exactly Waverly would be doing for transportation.

  The same thing as myself?

  After all, I didn't have a car either, and I guess I was doing alright. For now, anyway.

  Waverly sidestepped the largest suitcase and moved deeper into the living room. She glanced around and grimaced, as if the place wasn't living up to her lofty expectations.

  Personally, I didn't see it that way. The house was nice. It was clean and furnished, with a modern kitchen and at least two decent bathrooms. When it came to bedrooms, I still knew very little, because I hadn't explored beyond my own room and the general living area.

  Still, everything I had seen would've made me delighted to be staying here, if only my future roommates weren't two of the most unpleasant people I'd ever met.

  "Well?" Waverly said. "Where is he?"

  I shrugged. "I have no idea."

  It was true. I hadn't seen Brody all day, not since that incident in the attic. But of course, I'd been far too busy to see much of anything.

  Under Roy's direction, I'd finished mowing the lawn while he'd filmed my activity from several different vantage points.

  In the beginning, he'd startled me by literally lying out on the front sidewalk, shooting toward the house at an upward angle to disguise the fact that most of the lawn had been mowed already.

  Whether I'd been startled or not, I had to admit, Roy definitely knew what he was doing when it came to getting good footage. And he'd been nice enough to show me some of it afterward.

  But that didn't mean he was looking out for me.

  I needed to remember that.

  I'd even confronted him about that scene in the attic, where he'd filmed my encounter with Brody.

  If I'd been expecting an apology, I would've been sorely disappointed – because all Roy said was that he'd only been doing his job, and that anything in or around the house was – in his words – "fair game."

  And then, he'd offered me half of his second bacon sandwich, as if that would make it all better.

  It hadn't, even if the sandwich had been pretty darn delicious.

  Unfortunately, it was also the highlight of my day.

  After I'd mowed the lawn, Roy had filmed me trimming the bushes – not that they'd really needed it. And then, he'd directed me to toward the rear of the house, where he'd filmed me weeding my grandmother's long-neglected flower beds.

  I didn't mind the work. If I were on my own, I would've done it, anyway.

  But now, hours later, I was utterly spent – not just from all the physical activity, but from being under the microscope for so many hours in a row.

  When I'd signed up for this gig, I'd naively assumed that I'd be merely a side player, not a featured performer.

  But of course, I reminded myself, this was only the first day. When the actual construction began, I'd surely fade deeper into the woodwork.

  Or at least I sure hoped so.

  At six o'clock that evening, I'd returned to the crew house, exhausted, but relieved to get some much-needed privacy.

  The reprieve lasted only an hour – until the arrival of Waverly and her suitcases.

  Until that particular moment, I'd been holding out a tiny bit of hope that Brody had been kidding about Waverly staying here.

  No such luck.

  And now, she was asking, "So, where's his bedroom?"

  I blinked. "What?"

  "Brody's bedroom," she said. "Which one is his?"

  The question irritated me more than it should've. "How would I know?"

  At this, she smiled. "So you don't?"

  "No. Do you?"

  Her smile grew sly. "Not yet."

  Yet? What did that mean? Now, I was only more irritated. And on top of that, I was irritated for being irritated. After all, she and Brody totally deserved each other.

  If they hooked up, it would be a good thing because it would keep both of them occupied and away from me. Or at least, that's what I kept telling myself, even as the thought of them together festered like an open wound.

  Would they seriously hook up?

  She obviously had a thing for him, even now, after he'd told her to butt out of the construction side of things. And, whether I liked Brody or not, I could totally see why she was interested. He was rich, famous, and dangerously hot.

  Even in high school, before all the fame and fortune, Brody had dated more than his fair share of girls. I'd heard rumors, mouth-watering rumors that might've interested me if only I weren't still a virgin at the time.

  Now, I watched in sullen silence as Waverly glided past me, heading toward the rear hallway, where the bedrooms were located.

  I held my ground for like two whole seconds before it suddenly dawned on me that I'd be smart to follow, if only to preserve my own space.

  As I strode after her, I called out, "The last room on the right is mine."

  Without looking back, she said, "We'll see about that."

  I kept on going. "No, you'll see, because I'm already settled in."

  In the hallway, she stopped at the first door and opened it to peer inside. Curious in spite of myself, I joined her at the doorway to get a look of my own.

  The unfamiliar bedroom was nice and roomy with a queen-sized bed, two tall dressers, and a big window overlooking the private back yard.

  I remained stubbornly in the hall while Waverly entered the bedroom and pulled open a random dresser drawer. It was empty, just like the next one she opened. Without bothering to shut either drawer, she strode to the bedroom's opposite wall, making straight for a narrow wooden door that led to who-knows-what. She yanked it open to r
eveal an empty closet.

  With a sound of disgust, she said, "There's no bathroom."

  "Yeah, well, there's a really nice one at the end of the hall."

  She turned and gave me a dubious look. "How nice?"

  "Really nice," I said. "It has a bathtub and a shower." The distinction seemed important, because my own bathroom had only a shower, not that I was complaining.

  She asked, "How's the lighting?"

  "In the bathroom?" I said. "Good. I guess."

  "How good?"

  I jerked a finger toward the bathroom. "It's right down the hall. You could check it out for yourself, you know."

  "Oh, believe me, I will." And with that, she left the first bedroom and brushed past me, heading deeper down the hall.

  She stopped at the next door and opened it. Inside, there was king-sized bed, a wide dresser, and another interior door. Waverly marched into the bedroom, yanked open the mystery door, and looked inside.

  It was another closet – empty, just like the first one. She looked to me and demanded, "Where's the bathroom?"

  "How should I know?"

  "Well, you told me about the other bathroom."

  I crossed my arms. "Which you still could see for yourself."

  "Oh, I intend to," she said, leaving the second bedroom and striding once again past me. When she reached the hallway bathroom, she opened the door to reveal everything the bathroom had to offer – a nice long countertop, two sinks, a small jacuzzi tub, and a separate shower.

  She flicked on the lights and eyed the whole setup with obvious disappointment. "The lighting's awful."

  The lighting looked fine to me. But then again, I wasn't nearly as put-together as Waverly. Her makeup was flawless, and her long blonde hair was twisted into an elaborate knot, making her look more like a movie star than a show producer.

  Who knows, maybe she needed good lighting to achieve such a perfect appearance.

  As for myself, I tended to favor a more natural look, which meant that I could probably get ready in near-darkness if I needed to.

  With a huff, Waverly turned away from the bathroom and pushed past me yet again. She headed toward the third bedroom – the one where I'd been staying.

  The door was shut, and with good reason.

  I told her, "That one's mine."

  She turned to face me. "Oh really? Do you own the house?"

  Already, I didn't like where this was going. Grudgingly, I replied, "No."

  "Then if I were you, I wouldn't be so picky."

  My fingers clenched. I was picky?

  She had no idea what she was talking about. I hadn't even picked the bedroom. Brody had picked it for me, on that very first night, when he'd insisted that I stay here.

  I told her, "I didn't pick it. Brody did."

  With a tilt of her chin, she said, "Yes, well, that was before I came along."

  And with that, she turned and flung open my bedroom door.

  As she looked inside, I looked, too – scanning the bedroom with fresh eyes. The room had a double bed, a decent size dresser, a medium-sized closet, and a small private bathroom.

  All of this was clearly visible, since I'd left the closet and bathroom doors wide open. Maybe that had been a mistake.

  Waverly pointed toward my duffle bag, resting atop the only dresser along with a small pile of receipts. "Whose stuff is that?"

  Wasn’t it obvious? "It's mine. You did hear me say this is my room, right?"

  With a little laugh, she replied, "Not anymore."

  My jaw dropped. "What?"

  "It's mine now."

  Talk about nerve. I gave her a stiff smile. "Are you sure? I mean, have you checked the bathroom lighting?"

  "It doesn't matter," she said. "I'll have them put in new lighting tomorrow."

  "Who?" I asked.

  "The construction guys," she said, as if this should've been obvious. "Seriously, how long can it take?"

  Not being an electrician, I had no idea. But this was the least of my concerns. As far as the bedroom, now I didn't know what to do. The truth was, she actually had a point about it not being my house.

  If Waverly weren't being so heavy-handed about it, I might've volunteered to switch on my own. Sure, I liked having a private bathroom, but I'd shared bathrooms before. It really wasn't such a big deal.

  And yet, the thought of sharing a bathroom with Brody – well, that made me feel just a little bit unsettled.

  Thinking out loud, I said, "Maybe Brody should take this room. And you and I can take the others."

  She frowned. "Why would we do that?"

  "Because," I explained, "that way, Brody can have his own bathroom. And you and I can share."

  She looked at me like I'd just suggested drinking out of the toilet. "You're kidding, right?"

  "Um…no?"

  "Well forget it." She turned and pointed once again toward my duffle bag. "Now grab your stuff and pick another room."

  "Oh, come on," I protested. "You can't be serious."

  With a scoff, she said, "Well, I'm not going to move it."

  Obviously, she was missing the point. I tried again. "Yeah? Well maybe I'm not going to move it either."

  "Sure you will," she said, looking very sure of herself.

  "But—"

  "And don't forget anything in the bathroom."

  I bit my lip. I hated the thought of being driven out. But could I truly refuse?

  She was a producer, and I was a temporary consultant. On top of that, I'd been a late addition to this whole setup.

  My shoulders slumped. As much as I hated it, I felt compelled to do what she asked. "Fine," I said. "If it's so important to you."

  Still, my face burned as I strode into the bedroom and grabbed my duffle bag off the dresser. With quick, jerky motions, I retrieved the few shirts I'd hung in the closet, and then reached for the pair of jeans that I'd left lying across the bed.

  As I stuffed the loose clothing into the duffle bag, Waverly called out from the open doorway, "And you are planning to change the sheets, right?"

  My teeth were grinding now. "No. But I can point you toward the washing machine."

  "Why should I have to wash them?" she said. "I wasn't the one who slept all over them."

  "And I wasn't the one who insisted on changing bedrooms."

  "Now you just being a poor sport," she grumbled.

  Whatever. Silently, I stalked into the bathroom and shut the door behind me – because the last thing I wanted now was an audience for this latest humiliation. With a string of muttered curses, I scooped up the few toiletries I had – a toothbrush, a small tube of toothpaste, and my tiny makeup case.

  One by one, I tossed everything into the duffle bag.

  And then, I took a deep, calming breath. I could do this.

  Sure, it was embarrassing, but the worst was over, right?

  Wrong.

  Because when I emerged from the bathroom, there wasn't just one person watching from the hallway. There were two.

  Chapter 27

  Arden

  Brody was standing behind Waverly as they both eyed the interior of my bedroom – except it wasn't my bedroom, not anymore.

  It was Waverly's bedroom. And from the look on her face, she was loving every minute of my inglorious departure.

  Behind her, Brody didn't look nearly as orgasmic. His eyebrows furrowed as he studied the duffle bag slung over my shoulder. In a low voice, he asked, "What's going on?"

  Waverly gave a little jump and whirled to face him. "Oh, there you are!" she breathed. "I didn't hear you come in."

  "Obviously." He looked back to me and said, "Going somewhere?"

  My chin jerked upward. "Yes, actually. I just don't know where. That's all."

  Now he was frowning.

  Waverly spoke up. "What she means to say is that we're switching bedrooms."

  Brody's mouth tightened. "Is that so?"

  Just then, my cell phone rang in my pocket. From the ringtone, I knew ex
actly who it was – my cousin Jason.

  My breath caught. Finally.

  I blurted out, "I've got to take this." During the past couple of days, I'd been going crazy trying to reach him. I'd called. I'd sent text messages. I'd even sent him a few emails.

  In return, I'd gotten nothing. Until now.

  Frantically, I dug the phone out of my pocket, rushed back into the bathroom, and slammed the door shut behind me.

  Waverly called out, "Hey! That's my bathroom."

  "In a minute!" I called back, even as I tapped the screen to accept my cousin's call. "Jason?" My voice rose. "Where have you been?"

  On the other end, I heard with nothing but silence.

  I tried again. "Hello? Jason?"

  "Uh, yeah," he finally said. "So, um, how's it going?"

  I felt my jaw clench. Judging from the tone of his voice, he knew exactly how it was going.

  "Terrible," I said. "What happened with the house?"

  "Well, you see…it's kind of a long story."

  "I'm sure it is," I snapped. "So what happened?"

  More silence.

  "Oh, for God's sake," I said. "Just spit it out, will you?"

  "Alright. Jeez, calm down."

  Calm down? Seriously? Through gritted teeth, I informed him, "I am calm."

  "You don't sound calm to me."

  He was right. I wasn't. But I had plenty of reasons to be agitated. He'd given me a promise. He'd taken my money, repeatedly. And then, in spite of everything, he'd sold the house anyway, with no warning whatsoever.

  Adding insult to injury, he hadn't even bothered to tell me any of this himself. Instead, he'd let me find out on my own, the hard way. Cripes, even Brody discovering me naked in the shower was my cousin's fault in a roundabout way.

  Still, I wanted answers, not a scene. So in the calmest voice I could muster I said, "On Tuesday, you were supposed to meet me. Remember?"

  "Tuesday? Are you sure?"

  "Oh, come on," I said. "You know you were. I waited for you all day. And half of the night, too. But you never showed."

  He mumbled, "Sorry 'bout that."

  "You should be," I said. "And then, I find out from someone else that you sold the house – the one we supposedly owned together. So tell me. What happened?"