Love Me Sweet (A Bell Harbor Novel) by Tracy Brogan Page B

everything he shared made her want to tell him her story. Her real story, because the lies were a burden, and that load of insults she’d seen on Facebook was a misery she wanted to unload.
    But she didn’t tell him. She couldn’t. Because she didn’t really know him, and she couldn’t really trust him. She’d trusted Boyd and look where that had landed her. And at what point in a new friendship, romantic or otherwise, was it appropriate to mention that one’s sexcapades had been caught on film?
    Or that you were hiding from the scandal-hungry paparazzi?
    Or that your name was now a verb in the urban dictionary?
    Yeah, that chick totally Delaney-d me under a Snuggie, bro.
    Never.
    There was never a good time for that.
    “So what made you decide to become a cameraman?” she asked instead.
    Grant opened two more beers and handed one to her.
    “Is this going to cost me another sandwich?” she asked, taking the bottle from his hand.
    “Nope. This one’s on the house.” He sat back down and pulled a pale green blanket over his own legs. “I didn’t set out to become a cameraman, I just sort of lucked into it.”
    “How so?”
    “Well, I left Bell Harbor after my dad died and my mom got remarried. You probably picked up on that back at her house.”
    Delaney nodded and took a sip of beer.
    “Yeah, so I headed to Los Angeles. I had some friends who’d moved out there and I figured I could hang with them for a while. I got hired by a little TV station, running cables and doing odd jobs and such. One day a guy asked me to hold the camera for a minute, and I haven’t set it down since. Moved up the chain, moved around stations, did a few different shows. Just about the time I was getting really sick of LA, this on-location gig came along. Once I’d tasted filming out in the wild like that, there was no going back to a studio. No regrets either. I’ve seen amazing places, worked with some incredible people.” He paused for a moment, contemplating. “Maybe that’s why I haven’t made it home very often. Up until recently, my job was pretty fun.”
    “Until recently? What changed?”
    He took a slow drink, as if deciding what to share. Maybe she wasn’t the only one running away from things.
    “I left home at nineteen, and took my first location job at twenty-three. Now I’m thirty-one. That’s a long time to be traveling.”
    That was a long time. She’d been away from home less than three weeks and it felt like forever.
    “And not all the people were great,” he added. He looked over at her then, and she wondered if the candlelight was proving as flattering to her as it was to him, all shadows and glowing planes. He looked bedroomy and delicious. Damn. She needed that electricity to come back on before she did something regrettable.
    “Like what people?” she asked. “You mean Blake?”
    His gaze dropped to his beer bottle. He nodded and picked at the label. “Yeah, Blake, for starters. He’s changed a lot in the last couple of years. I’ve been with him since the first season, and in the beginning it was great. Either one of us would do anything to get an awesome shot or find the perfect angle. We knew we had to be bold, offer something different to give the show real substance. It was a team effort, but somewhere along the line Blake started to believe his own hype.”
    “His own hype?” She was very familiar with hype.
    “At some point being famous became more important to him than creating a quality product. Now he’s just interested in showing off his new veneers and landing sponsorship deals. The show has become about him rather than the adventure, and I can’t stand that empty celebrity mentality. If I’m filming something, I want it to be real, have some substance. I want it to count for something. That’s why I quit.” He tipped his beer to his lips and took a fast swallow, then looked back at her and offered half a smile. “How about you? You must’ve left a job back in Miami.