A smile breaks across my face, matching hers. “I really appreciate you arranging the remote coaching. I’m more than ready to hit the ground running.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Andy’s here too—over there, by the drinks.”
Bella waves him over, and a few of the other stunt crew members find us—including Alanna. With her auburn hair swept up in a glamorous bun, our resemblance isn’t so obvious, but our builds are as similar as mine and Haley’s.
She offers her hand immediately, revealing surgery scars on her wrist. “So, this is the legendary Mylo Rye.”
I offer a wry laugh. “That’s quite the allegation.”
“It’s earned,” Alanna says firmly. “I don’t know how you learned it all so fast; I’m just glad you did. That twist, though…” She whistles. “I sure as fuck wish someone had told me kissing Christine Evansworth was on the table.”
A possessive growl rumbles in my chest, and I clear my throat to hide it. Which still sounds a little passive-aggressive. Oh well.
Alanna raises a placating hand. “Kidding, of course! Listen, I know it’s silly, but I was so stuck onwhyI fucked up my wrist: why here, why now, why when we’re so close? Finding out that it was forromance…” Alanna’s expression turns wistful. “…It softens the blow a little.”
I blush and rub the back of my neck. “Well, I’m glad to hear that.”
“How was that giant plane rig?” She lets a little sadness into her expression.
“It was…” I unconsciously roll the shoulder Christine dislocated during that take, assuring myself it’s fully healed now. I was still quietly mad about that for a while, until I got pissed at Christine—can’t remember why, could’ve been a lot of things—and snapped at her about it.
Her guilt came pouring out. I’d failed to consider that she might also be at the mercy of her own hormones, especially with a scent match. That’s not an excuse, but she groveled thoroughly and then fucked the resentment out of me, so the memory has lost its spark of anger.
“…amazing,” I finish simply.
Alanna sighs. “Yeah. I figured. Congrats on the contract, by the way.”
I hesitate. “Thanks… I don’t want you to feel like?—”
Alanna raises a hand and shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it. Clearly, what was meant to happen happened. Rehab’s going great, and I’m sure there’s another role that’s an even better fit for me waiting in the future.”
A slow, sincere smile crosses my face. With an attitude like that, Alanna’s going to be just fine. “Yeah. I’m sure you’re right.”
“At least, as soon as I get a new agent…” Alanna sighs.
“Hey, I could connect you to mine. He’s been looking for a new go-to now that my schedule is…” I glance over my shoulder at Christine, and warmth echoes in my chest. “…spoken for.”
Alanna’s eyes widen. “You’d do that? Please don’t do it out of pity though; I’ll figure it out.”
“I wouldn’t do it out of pity, I promise. The way the crew talks about you… They really enjoyed working with you, too. And I can see why.”
Alanna beams. “Oh, shut up, you’re going to make me cry. I’ll say, ‘It takes one to know one,’ and we can leave it at that.”
I laugh and tap my glass against hers. “Deal.”
We merge into the conversation with the rest of the stunt crew and do all the reminiscing and joshing around I never got to do before, and I hear so many stories from the first part of production that I feel like I was there. Given Alanna’s warm smiles, she feels the same.
The conversation soon becomes eager speculation about what we’ll be doing for the next film. Lana’s keeping Bella, Andy, and crew on to recreate the magic, of course.
Haley stops by to make Alanna and me promise we’ll get lunch as a trio soon, and we chat for a couple minutes before Lana calls the budding starlet over to meet some contacts in a position to kick-start Haley’s career.
All the while, Christine and I are never more than a few feet apart. We each have our own circles, carry on our own conversations, but there’s always that quiet awareness and comfort.
In theory, it should all be scent-based. But that feeling remained even when I caught a head cold that left me unable to smell or taste anything for a couple of days. I asked Christine about it, and she said that while plenty of wives tales about alphas and omegas have been totally debunked—like that maleomegas don’t exist, or that all alphas are inherently violent—there’s still so much we can’t yet explain about the metaphysics.
When the stunt crew disperses to go hunt down more drinks, perhaps it’s that special sense that sends the hair on the back of my neck standing on end the moment before Christine’s hand lands on my shoulder and she turns me to face a whole group of looming female alphas.
I fold against Christine’s side, grateful that none of the six other women are paying much attention to me.
