Page 8 of What the Hex
Storm laughed along with him and reached over to ruffle his hair affectionately. It felt…nice.
“So, how long have you worked here?”
Small talk. He could do this. “About a year now.”
“And do you live in town?”
“Yeah, in the new apartment building off the highway.”
Okay, this was easy. He glanced over expectantly, eager for the next question. It didn’t come. Instead, Storm was staring at him with his brow furrowed and a slight frown.
The anxiety he’d been feeling all morning bubbled over into full-blown panic. Turning the conversation over in his mind, he couldn’t figure out what he’d said wrong, which did nothing to calm his racing pulse. Chewing the corner of his lower lip, he reached up and tugged at his earlobe, a nervous habit he’d developed in childhood.
“Are you originally from Echo Falls?”
The constriction in his chest eased, making it a little easier to draw in his next breath. He didn’t release the grip he had on his ear, though.
“I grew up in Colorado Springs.” It occurred to him then that he didn’t need to wait for a question to supply more details. “My family still lives there.”
“Oh, do you see them often?”
Well, hell. Maybe he shouldn’t have volunteered information, after all. “Um, not really.”
If Storm noticed anything amiss, he didn’t mention it. “Yeah, I get it. I try to make it home as often as I can, but life always seems to get in the way.”
That might be the case for him, but it definitely wasn’t King’s story. On the other hand, the shifter had just given him an out, and he’d be an idiot not to take it. Not wanting to outright lie, he simply nodded, letting Storm interpret the gesture however he wanted.
He sighed in relief when he realized the conversation had carried them to the end of the long corridor. Carefully removing the brass key from his pocket, he hoped his shaking hand would go unnoticed as he stepped forward to unlock the door.
“Here we are. Room 317.”
Technically, it was a one-bedroom suite with a king-sized bed and a balcony that provided a gorgeous view of the forest behind the castle. The common area boasted a sofa and loveseat upholstered in a deep shade of brown, an enormous flatscreen television, and a small dining table in the back corner by the balcony doors.
He was a little surprised that neither of the principal actors had been offered one of the tower suites. Maybe Skye had reserved those for someone else. Director? Producers? It wasn’t his business, and it really didn’t matter, but since the towers were their nicest accommodations, he found it curious.
“Take a look around,” he encouraged. “If you don’t like it, we have other rooms available.”
“This is fine,” Storm responded without hesitation. “After today, I’ll only be here to sleep anyway.”
King winced. “Right. No offense, but your schedule is crazy.”
To that, Storm shrugged. “It’s not like that all the time. Just when I’m filming or promoting.”
Or indulging fans. Shooting ad spots. Meeting with his manager, lawyers, or PR team. Sitting for interviews. Reading scripts, or any of the other gazillion obligations that consumed his life. No wonder he never had time to see his family.
Of course, he didn’t say any of that. Maybe one day they would have the kind of relationship where he felt comfortable voicing his opinions, but right then, it wasn’t his place.
“Your luggage should be in the bedroom.” He pointed to a door to the side of the television. “I’ll leave you to get settled in.” It occurred to him that he was supposed to be available for the duration of filming. “Uh, we should probably exchange numbers.”
“Good idea.”
They swapped cell phones, each imputing their information.
“If you need anything, just call. Otherwise, I’ll be here at six to pick you up for dinner.”
Storm cocked his head to the side. “That’s it?”
“Yes?” He didn’t think he had neglected anything. “Is there something I can do for you?”