“No fraternization between employees is a fairly standard clause.” He doesn’t look as though he believes that’s the reason Macon ran interference. I don’t either.

Macon has been sticking his nose into my love life ever since we were kids. Every boy I showed any interest in was immediately told of all my supposed faults. They were run off with the effectiveness of a deployed stink bomb. I never believed jealousy was the motive. Macon did it out of spite. And now he’s doing it again.

“First off, I didn’t sign any employee contract, and there is no handbook. We both know that. Secondly, Macon said that because he’s an asshat. No, an ass bonnet with flowers on top.”

North laughs but then gives me a wary glance. “You weren’t . . . I mean, I think you’re great and pretty, but—”

The tips of his ears turn red as he squirms in his seat. And the devil in me can’t help but respond. “But what, North?” I give him a sappy look. “Don’t you like me?”

He clears his throat. “Of course I do, but . . .”

“It’s Macon, isn’t it? Trying to get in the way of our love.”

North pales, blinking rapidly as his mouth falls open. For a second, I imagine he’s contemplating jumping from the moving car, but then his expression clears with a rush of color and the narrowing of his eyes. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

The laugh I’ve been holding in bursts free. “I’m sorry. You were just so nervous about offending me.”

“Sorry. That was bigheaded of me, eh? I just . . .” He smiles tightly. “You know what? I’m going to shut up now.”

“Just to be clear, I’m not over here crying in my soup. I’m not interested in you that way.” I give him a sidelong look, still smiling. “Not that you aren’t pretty.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “Now I understand why Saint doesn’t know if he’s coming or going with you.”

Laughing, I turn onto the next highway. So many LA highways. “It’s awkward as all hell talking about this. Really, I’m annoyed on principle. And Macon just annoys me in general.”

“Probably because you two are so much alike.”

“Alike? Ah, no.”

“Both of you are uncomfortably blunt, proud, stubborn—”

“Hey!”

North grins, tilting his head in my direction. “I don’t find these qualities faults. I’ve known Saint for two years, and already, he is my closest friend. You’re both exceedingly loyal too.”

“Loyal? Macon? Are we talking about the same person?”

“If you can’t see his loyalty, you aren’t looking,” North says quietly.

Something uncomfortable twists in my belly. Guilt, frustration, I’m not sure, but I shift in my seat.

“I know Samantha took the watch.” Anger twists his lips and fills his blue eyes. “I know you’re working here to pay him back, which makes you a fucking saint in my book.”

I glance away, embarrassed and upset with Sam all over again.

“But I figure that’s a pretty bitter pill to swallow, regardless. So you should know that even though Saint can be a dick now and then, it’s clear, to me at least, that his actions toward you aren’t motivated by some old feud.”

I’m the one now fighting not to squirm in my seat. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” North shakes his head, chuckling under his breath. “This is awkward as hell. But I wanted you to know you’re valued here. Shit situation or no.”

“You’re a good egg, North.”

“Just trying to keep the peace, ma’am.” He thumbs up the brim of an imaginary hat.

I laugh, feeling lighter. “So what’s your story?”

“I have to have a story?”

“Everyone has a story. Some are boring, some aren’t, but everyone has a story.”

“My family is in the stunt business—dad, brother, sister, me. That’s how I met Saint; I’m his stunt double on Dark Castle.”

“Really?” I wouldn’t mistake him for Macon for a second, but aside from the hair color, they do have roughly the same build and height.

“It’s colored black during filming,” he says, seeing the direction of my gaze. “The fake beard itches like hell, though.”

While I haven’t watched the show, I have seen pictures of Macon as Arasmus. He’s often in Roman-style leather body armor and heavy fur capes, his hair roughly chopped and sticking out at all angles, a full beard covering his jaw. I’ve never been one for beards, but Macon works the barbarian look.

North stretches his legs out. “Since Saint and I both do the sword-fight shots, I was also responsible for training him. Then that crap with the crazed fan and the accident happened—”

“What?” I cut in shrilly. “What fan?”

“Hell, you didn’t know?”

“How could I know?” My grip is a vise on the wheel.

North swears under his breath. “Saint said he was going to talk to you about—”

“What happened?” A sick lurch tilts my insides, and I have to swallow hard. “Please, North.”