Half-formed dreams swirled through Sadie’s mind. She shook her head, scattering them before they could take shape. She wasn’t going there. Not now, not ever. “I’ve just been busy, that’s all. Okay?” She stared up at her friend. I can’t talk about this. Please don’t make me talk about this. About him.
Awareness flickered in Ana’s green eyes. An acknowledgment of all that Sadie left unsaid. She backed off, voice picking up its light teasing tone again as she clucked her tongue and said, “No one is ever too busy to get busy.”
“What is that supposed to be”—Sadie smirked, playing along—“some kind of mantra?” She sucked in a grateful breath and waited at the curb while Ana walked around to the driver’s side of her car.
“A motivational slogan.” Ana opened her car door. “My mom has been into needlepoint lately. I’ll see if she can sew that into a pillow. What do you think?”
“I think you’re weird.” Sadie shook her head and leaned on the convertible’s passenger door. The same shade of emerald as Ana’s eyes, the car was fun and sexy, just like the woman who drove it.
“Very,” Ana agreed. “But I can’t help it, I come from a long line of weirdos.” She set her coffee in a cup holder and settled into her seat. “Can this weirdo give you a ride?”
“Thanks, I’m good.” Her apartment wasn’t far, and Sadie enjoyed walking through her neighborhood. Every city had its own vibe, and after living in New York for six years, it was nice to be back on home turf. September in Chicago could be unbearably hot and steamy, but this morning was promising to be one of those awesome end-of-summer days that held a kiss of fall. And the steady breeze blowing in off the lake didn’t hurt either.
“That’s debatable,” Ana teased, clicking her seat belt. “Look, I totally get how important this movie role is to you, but you know what they say, all work and no play…” She turned the ignition and revved the gas suggestively.
“Ana,” Sadie warned.
“I’m just saying.” Ana shook her pink-and-white striped bag from Stan’s. “Treat yourself.” She tossed the pastry bag on the passenger seat. Over the roar of the engine, she added, “Don’t let your donut get stale, okay?”
Before Sadie could form a reply, Ana was pulling out of the parking space with the practiced ease of a lifelong Chicagoan. With a wink, she blew Sadie a kiss and tore off down North Broadway.
Standing at the curb, Sadie hollered after the convertible’s retreating bumper, “My vagina is not a donut!”
CHAPTER 2
AFTER SHOUTING ABOUT her vagina on the edge of Boystown, where one lovely passerby assured Sadie her hoo-ha could be whatever she wanted it to be, she recovered a modicum of dignity and decided to take Ana’s advice to treat herself. Not with the cute guy’s phone number, but with her favorite pastime: shopping. Rather than head home, she’d hit the Gold Coast, giving her credit card a workout almost as intense as the one she’d done at the gym this morning.
By the time she’d schlepped the bounty of her retail therapy back to her Lakeview East apartment, it was well after noon. The production meeting was scheduled for two and was all the way across town. Sadie barely had time to change, so she traded her T-shirt for an adorable sleeveless silk blouse she’d just bought, slapped on a pair of sunglasses, and hauled ass.
As she navigated her way through the giant warehouse studio to the conference room, she rubbed her palms against her jeans, trying to quell her sudden bout of nerves. This was just a table read, nothing to get worked up about. She’d done plenty of them before. Though admittedly, most of those had been for college productions. They’d been fun. Usually held over a big family-style dinner at the director’s house, first reads were a chance for the cast and crew to meet in a casual setting, hear the director’s vision for the play, and get a sense of their expectations for the characters.
During her time spent on the soap opera Hope General, table reads didn’t really happen. Occasionally the director or executive producer would schedule a meeting to discuss upcoming episodes, which meant a fast and furious debriefing. Sometimes she’d get lucky and catch a glimpse of her character’s story arc, but Sadie had learned not to put much stock in those moments. Too often the writers decided to change something, reworking the storyline, shifting events, swapping love interests. By the time the next round of scripts was ready, everything would be different.
Prior to getting cast on the soap, Sadie’s handful of movie roles had been too small to earn a place at the table. Literally. Instead, an assistant would be on standby, reading the lines for all the smaller roles. This would be her first official read as a principal with a spot at the table. A spot she’d busted her ass to earn. Sadie took a deep breath, then notched up her chin and strode into the meeting like the leading lady she was.
“Sadie, hey!” A hand waved at her from near the head of the table. Ryan, the leading man and her costar. His warm smile did much to settle her nerves. They’d met during initial screen tests prior to final casting. He had a carefree California vibe that seemed authentic rather than cultivated. Easy on the eyes, of course, but easygoing too—goofy and adorable. She liked that about him and was looking forward to working together.
Like her, Ryan had gotten his start in television, playing a lovable slacker on a sitcom. He’d successfully made the jump from television to movies with a big part in a blockbuster sci-fi last year, and Sadie was hoping this movie would do the same for her career.
“Hey, Ryan.” She returned his smile, sliding into the seat next to him. “Ready to do this?”
“I was born ready.” He swiveled back and forth on his chair. “And you can call me Ry. Like the bread.” Ryan gave her a goofy grin, white teeth flashing in his charmingly boyish face.
“Sure thing, Ry Bread,” Sadie agreed.
“Ugh, on second thought, don’t.” He groaned and swiveled his chair again, casting a longing glance at the coffee bar set up in one corner of the room. “Any mention of carbs makes me … what’s the word?”
“Homicidal?” she suggested.
“Exactly.” His gaze drifted back to the piles of pastries and bagels. “I’d kill for a donut right now … if this diet doesn’t kill me first. No lie, I think my stomach is eating itself.” He sighed and rubbed his flat belly, six-pack rippling beneath the fitted cotton of his V-neck T-shirt.
Now it was Sadie’s turn to laugh. Was she a horrible person because she found it comforting to know he’d been undergoing the same brutal diet and exercise training regimen? Taking pity on him, she reached for her purse and unzipped it. “If the situation is that bad…” She flashed him the bag from Stan’s.
Ryan’s eyes grew round. He licked his lips. “Is that…?”
“It is.” She opened the pink-and-white striped bag and covertly tilted it toward him.
He leaned forward, but rather than peek inside, he inhaled, breathing deeply. “Oh, sweet baby Jesus on a hamster wheel,” he moaned, closing his eyes.
“Right?” Sadie nodded in understanding.
“Where did you get that?” he asked, breathing in another lungful of donut-scented goodness and looking at her with wonder, like she was some magical donut fairy. “I haven’t had Stan’s since LA. I didn’t even know they had them around here.”
“Oh yeah, there’s a few in the city.” Sadie shrugged. “One is a couple blocks from my gym.”
“Where’s your gym?” he started to ask, then stopped. “No, wait. It’s better if you don’t tell me. There’s no way I could control myself.”
“It’s my biggest weakness too,” she confessed. “I only allow myself one every Friday.”
“T.G.I.F,” Ryan spelled out reverently.
“Tell you what.” Sadie grinned, taking pity on him. “I already ate half, but if you promise to keep my secret, I’ll give you half of my other half.”
“Deal.” The word shot out of his mouth as his hand shot into her purse.
“Hey!” She slapped his wrist. “Slow down, Ry Bread.” She glanced aro
und, a few other people had joined them at the conference table, while several still congregated in the corner by the food. Sadie recognized Dave, one of the production leads, and some other familiar faces from prior meetings. People she’d rather didn’t know about the half-eaten breakfast pastry crammed in her purse. She’d already been fitted for wardrobe and didn’t need their judgy stares sizing her up. “I meant we could share this later.”
“Oh.” He withdrew his hand sheepishly. “Okay.” Ryan watched, face full of longing, as she closed the bag and zipped up her purse. “You promise you’ll give me a taste of your donut later, though, right?”
Sadie choked. Damn Ana and her ridiculous metaphors. Wishing she could choke her best friend, Sadie composed herself and nodded. She patted her new costar’s cheek. “Later,” she repeated, then leaned closer, whispering in his ear, “I promise.”
“This looks cozy.” Someone observed from behind them, the low male voice tinged with a hint of mockery.
Sadie froze. No way. She hadn’t heard that voice in more than ten years. But she recognized it immediately. No freaking way.
Maybe she was wrong. She was probably wrong. She had to be wrong.
Beside her, Ryan turned toward the voice. “Bo! Hey, man, what’s up?”
Bo. The name slammed into her gut, as if someone had written it on a piece of paper, tied it to a boulder, and hurled it straight at her.
Oblivious to her sudden discomfort, Ryan stood, shaking hands with the person behind them. Sadie remained frozen. She had not been mistaken. How did this happen? What was he doing here?
“Sadie?” Tugging on her elbow, Ryan provided the answer. “Say hi to our stunt coordinator, Bo Ibarra.”
Not trusting her ability to stand, Sadie glanced over her shoulder. “Hi.” She smiled weakly then forced herself to look up, meeting his gaze. “Stunt coordinator, huh?”
“That’s right,” Bo said. His light brown eyes were exactly the same. Still that unique tawny shade that reminded her of an Irish halfpenny she’d once found in her nana’s coin collection, still framed with the most incredibly long and ridiculously thick eyelashes she’d ever seen. His hair was darker, only streaks of the golden blond she remembered glinting here and there. And shorter, much shorter. Last time she’d seen him, it had brushed his shoulders. But what hair Bo had chopped off on top of his head, he’d made up for on his face.
A full beard covered his lean cheeks, hiding the cleft she knew dimpled the center of his chin. The fact she was aware of that feature despite it being hidden from the world felt … intimate. Sadie squirmed in her seat, recalling all the times she’d pressed her lips to that dimple. Dragging her attention away from that spot, she noted the beginnings of laugh lines creasing the corners of his eyes. She wondered if besides the cleft, the beard hid more laugh lines around his mouth.
Had there been much laughter in his life? She hoped so.
“Bo-dacious is one of the best in the biz,” Ryan continued, patting Bo on the back. “Soon as my agent told me we’d be filming in Chicago, I got on the horn and insisted they hire you, man.” Ryan turned to Sadie. “Ain’t nobody better to have your back than Bo-dacious here.”
“Dude, come on, I told you to knock it off with that Bo-dacious crap,” Bo said, taking the sting out of his words with a light punch at Ryan’s arm.
“You have a stunt company?” Sadie asked, unable to mask the surprise in her voice.
“I do,” he said. “Windy City Stunts.”
“I’ve heard of it.” Sadie nodded. “But I didn’t…” She hesitated. “I didn’t know it was your company.”
“It is.” His mouth twisted.
The answer was spoken softly, but his words were sharp. Biting. An accusation. An acknowledgment of the fact she’d not bothered to stay up to date on what he’d been doing in the years since … well, in the years since she’d last seen him.
She hadn’t. She’d been afraid to. And she never thought she’d see him again. Certainly not here. Not now. Not like this.
Digging deep, Sadie got to her feet and turned to face Bo. He seemed bigger than she remembered. Not in size exactly, not taller or thicker, but sturdier. More substantial. The last time she’d seen him, they’d been teenagers. A man stood before her now.
“That’s great,” she managed.
“Yeah, I started with some freelance gigs. Did that for a couple of years before helping form WCS. Now it’s become the number-one source for stunt performers in Chicago.”
The pride in his voice was unmistakable, and well-deserved. The company had an excellent reputation—even she knew they were the go-to company to hire in this city.
“Wow. I’m happy for you,” Sadie said, and meant it too. Despite everything that lay between them, everything that had happened, she was truly glad to see him doing so well.
“Hold up.” Ryan glanced between her and Bo. “Do you two know each other?”
For a moment, neither of them answered.
“Yeah.” Always the braver one, Bo spoke first. “We were friends as kids.”
“Yep,” Sadie agreed brightly. Too brightly. “Friends.” Throat tight, eyes stinging, she added, “Although it’s been a long time. Ten years, I think?”
“Eleven,” Bo said, eyes never leaving her face. “But who’s counting.”
Sadie’s heart began to beat faster, wild and fluttery, thumping against her sternum like a bird trying to escape its cage. She knew exactly how many years it had been. Despite her best efforts, she’d never been able to stop keeping track.
“Small world, huh?” Ryan chuckled, either completely oblivious to the tension zipping around him or a better actor than she’d realized. “I met Bo last year when I guest-starred on an episode of Chicago Rescue. He set up this amazing stunt, right? An explosion that sent me flying out a twelfth-story window.” Ryan brushed one palm over the other, pumping a hand skyward, as if to demonstrate his airborne body.
Sadie’s skin crawled at the thought.
“Got any cool stuff like that planned for us, man?” Ryan asked, eager as a kid about to ride a roller coaster.
Sadie hated roller coasters. Hated heights of all kinds, actually. She didn’t even do well with escalators. Bo, of course, knew this.
Fuck. She jerked her head toward him. Would he use that knowledge against her? He could. Easily.
“I have some ideas,” Bo answered Ryan, but kept his gaze on her, his tawny eyes giving away nothing.
“Do stunt coordinators usually come to first reads?” Sadie asked, struggling to hide the wave of anxiety crashing through her.
“Occasionally.” Bo shrugged, the thick line of his shoulders rising and falling. “Depending on the complexity of the stunts, directors will sometimes ask me to sit in on a read, so I can get a feel for things. Identify potential problems.”
As he talked, he’d begun rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. Sadie tried not to stare as the strong masculine lines of his forearms were revealed. What was it about a man rolling up his sleeves that immediately upped his hotness factor? And with a guy like Bo, whose hotness level was already off the charts, it simply wasn’t fair. “Is that what you’re doing today? Identifying potential problems?” Because she could think of a few.
Bo looked at her, a knowing twinkle in his eye, as if he was aware of how discombobulated she was. “For one, I’ll decide which stunts I think are suitable for the actors to perform themselves.”
“Oh?” Sadie rubbed her palms on her jeans.
A grin curved one corner of his mouth as he nodded. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to make anyone do anything that makes them uncomfortable.” The teasing edge of his smile eased the vise around Sadie’s heart.
“Morning, team!” The director, Sylvia, coasted into the room, fist-bumping people as she made her way toward the head of the table. “RG!” She fist-bumped Ryan. “MG!” She fist-bumped Sadie.
“MG?” Bo asked under his breath.
“Sylvia likes to use initials,” Sadie whispe
red back. “It’s her thing.”
“But your initials aren’t…” He paused. “Oh, right. Mercedes.” His voice vibrated with a low chuckle. “I’d almost forgot.”
Sadie didn’t need to look at him to know his smile had taken on an edge of cockiness she remembered all too well. She’d bet he was remembering the conversation they’d had when they were kids. Sadie had been eight, and Bo nine, when he’d first learned her full name was Mercedes Esther Goldovitz. Much to her chagrin, he’d found it hilarious. A girl named after a car.
But now? Was he laughing with her, or at her? Did it matter? As an actress, the public knew her as Sadie Gold. Aside from Sylvia, who’d seen Sadie’s full name on a contract and had been calling her MG ever since, the only person who referred to Sadie as Mercedes was her mother, the one who had made the ostentatious decision to name her daughter after a luxury automobile in the first place.
Once upon a time, Bo had called her something else. Something special. A secret name, just for her. A name Sadie long ago accepted she’d never hear again. She’d sealed the memory of it in a box and locked it away, along with all their other memories. Other secrets.
One of Sylvia’s assistants began passing out scripts, and Sadie dropped back into her chair. Ryan returned to his seat on her right, and Bo claimed the open spot on her left. The nervousness she’d felt earlier transformed, became something different. Sadie focused on the little bundle of energy buzzing around inside her. She fiddled with the corner of her script, trying to pin the feeling down. Was it fear? Trepidation?
Next to her, Bo shifted in his chair, and the entire left side of her body grew antennae, tuning in to the man sitting beside her. The buzzing sensation intensified.
Suddenly, Sadie recognized the feeling.
It was hope.
CHAPTER 3
ALL THROUGH THE reading, Bo did his best to stay focused on the task at hand. Today was his first time representing the company for a production of this magnitude, his first time handling a big-budget action film, and he couldn’t afford to fuck it up. The last thing he needed was a distraction—yet that’s exactly what was sitting right next to him.
Once Upon a Bad Boy--A Sometimes in Love Novel Page 2