“Yeah. You know. Needle and thread. Sewing machine.” She couldn’t help grinning at how bewildered he looked.
“You take your pretend world pretty seriously, don’t you?”
She knew it was a rhetorical question, but it deserved a comeback wisecrack.
“Sure, but don’t let that fool you. I take my real world seriously too.”
He gave her a mock eyebrow raise.F—ck him. He was no better, no more real than she was. He couldn’t mock her while he played with his guns and planes and pretend heroics as if we were still at war.
Except he really had saved her foolish life. And that was a hard thing for a woman to forget.
“What’s the end game?”
“Excuse me? End game?”
“What do you hope to accomplish with your meeting and your sewing machine?”
Now he really was taunting her. But since when had she been ashamed about the passion of her life?Own it, May, in spite of this judgmental East Coast snob and his weighty life-and-death attitude.
“You mean besides winning an Oscar or an Emmy? Nothing constructive by your standards. We’re putting on a show for the masses who we hope to entertain. And then there’s the matter of making money.” Big money, if this series caught on. Her career was in its prime and she planned to launch a line of clothing. But she’d keep that to herself right now. Folding her arms across her chest, she realized his stare blazed through her as if he were reading her mind.