Good for You (Between the Lines #3) by Tammara Webber

Author:Tammara Webber [Webber, Tammara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ePub Bud (www.epubbud.com)
Published: 2011-12-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 30

REID

“So, think you’l do more volunteering after this?” Frank asks as we lay out a recent donation of decorative pavers from the patio to the back gate.

“After my court-ordered penalty is complete, you mean?” The flagstone slabs vary in size. Making a pathway of them consists of what Frank terms puzzle-piecing and I cal guesswork. Frank is usual y easygoing, but when it comes to stone placement, he’d give Dori a run for her perfectionism money. Dammit, I don’t want to think about her. I glare at the cloudless blue sky, removing one glove and using the bottom of my t-shirt to wipe the sweat from my face. LA is enjoying another summer heat wave, and since the saplings we’ve planted amount to tal sticks with very little foliage, there’s zero shade in this yard.

“Dori’s not here, you know,” Frank says.

My eyes snap to his. “What?”

He takes a generous few gulps from his water bottle.

“You may be here under court order, but you could have been a bastard about it, could’ve given a lot less effort than you have. As far as I’m concerned, you’re volunteer enough to go by the title. I’d be happy to have you back.” This echoes what Dori said the night before last. And clearly, I can’t stop thinking of her. “Thanks, Frank. That means a lot coming from you.”

“Yep.”

Frank dislikes compliments, no matter how vague. Last week, Dori whispered, “Watch this,” after making me promise not to react, and then she told Frank that he looked very handsome in teal. He glanced down at his teal linen shirt and blushed, mumbling something resembling,

“Mmmph,” before bul eting to the other side of the patio.

Dori turned back to me with the naughtiest look ever on her face. With effort, we suppressed our laughter as I fought to disregard the desire to pul her onto my lap and kiss her.

Shit. Stop thinking about her already. I’m almost out of here. This day and one more.

“Volunteering for real—I don’t know. It’s possible,” I tel him, recal ing my conversation with Larry a few weeks ago about doing manual labor charity work, when I retorted something along the lines of no way in hell. Wow. I’m a grade-A dick.

Tomorrow is my last day at the Diego house, and George cal ed last night to let me know that production has moved the dates up on my Vancouver project. I’l be on location in three weeks—the day before Dori returns from Ecuador. I have less than a month to beef up and pack on the last five pounds of the twenty I promised to add in order to land the role. George warned me that the director and some of the production team were against hiring me because they wanted the character to be older and bigger, but the guys financing the film wanted my name in the credits. Money talks, but if I screw this up, I could depreciate my future value and seriously lessen the chances of anyone giving me another shot at a film like this one.

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