Page 78 of The Publicity Stunt

I instantly let out a soft moan that I absolutely didn’t mean to, suddenly finding myself eternally grateful for the lack of lights on this rooftop. You know, since my face is now on fire. “Show-off,” I mutter. He laughs and goes back to massaging my feet. “How are you so good at this?”

“I’m not. I just know your body really well.” I glance down and he adds, “Not flirting, Chere. Just stating facts.”

“You know what?” I say.

“Not even a little bit,” Parker says, moving onto my right foot. His fingers graze past my heel and he presses up against the sole.

“I think Tony has a crush on you.”

He frowns. “What?”

“Yeah,” I shrug. “Seems a bit narcissistic, considering how similar you two look.”

That makes him laugh, his breath condensing into tiny misty clouds. “There’s no need to be jealous, Chere.” He tugs lightly on my toes one by one. “I only have eyes for you.”

At some point, he stops massaging my feet and I pull them back toward me, putting on my heels. “I think your feet hate you a little less now,” he tells me and picks up the can of beer.

“Yeah, we should put them in the middle and see who they run toward.” I place my can on the cold surface and wipe the white chalky dust from the concrete on the leg of my pantsuit.

“Parker?”

“Hm?” He turns to look at me, eyes heavy and pupils dilated. I uncross my legs and his eyes momentarily drop, following the motion.

“How is this your life?”

He frowns. “I’m sorry?”

Obviously, the beer has started to chip away my filter. “The whole stunt double thing. How did that happen?”

Parker inspects me for two seconds before bringing his left arm around me, wrapping it around my back and squeezing me close. “It took years of training and crashing into walls.”

“You know what I mean.” I stifle a laugh. “What happened to your comic book? Did you ever publish it?”

“Nah,” he says, looking away.

“Why not?” I go on. “That comic book was basically the other woman in our relationship, Parker. You’d better have a good reason for not going through with it.”

“April.” There’s a hint of frustration in his voice and just like that, I have my answer.

A wave of regret washes over me. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.I’m an idiot, is what I want to say.

His thumb scrapes against the green fabric of my blazer. “Don’t apologize.” The words slip out of him so softly, I question if he even meant to say them. Maybe he just meant for them to blend in with the sound of the wind. But then he nudges me in the shoulder and looks me square in the eyes. “I think I sort of owed it to him, you know?”

Another chilly gust of wind rustles past us and I bite back a shudder.

He reels his arm back in and bends over to unzip his duffel bag. A second later, he sits back up, holding with a bright blue sweatshirt.

“For you,” he says and offers it to me.

“What?”

“It’s freezing up here.” He stretches open the blue hoodie and puts it over my head, and I go along with it. The second my head emerges from the neck of the sweatshirt, Parker looks down at me and laughs. My cheeks flush.

“What is happening?” I whisper as I slide my arms through the sleeves.

“Just making sure you don’t wake up with a cold tomorrow.”

My face is blank as a slate and I stare down at the blue hoodie. “This isn’t mine.”