Dragon's Clutch (Sanmere Shifters Book 3)

something when she reached it.
Valerie’s trailer was huge, the second biggest on the set after Callin McKenzie’s. And still Valerie had moaned about it. Not to anyone who could tell her she was an ungrateful bitch and that she was fired, of course, but she had moaned incessantly about it to Brianne. And she had managed somehow to make it all sound like it was Brianne’s fault. Brianne had nodded meekly and agreed with Valerie’s sentiment that the trailer just wasn’t good enough for a star of her caliber, but deep down, Brianne had found it hard to bite her tongue and not say what she wanted to say.
She wanted to ask Valerie what exactly she expected. The trailer was not only huge, it was well equipped and the inside of it was all sleek wood and cream leather, tasteful and expensive looking.
For a moment, Brianne had been left to wonder if that was how Mandy had felt last night when she was moaning about her job. She didn’t particularly want to examine that line of thought too deeply in case it turned out to be true, and so she had gone back to bitching internally about Valerie.
Brianne remembered how she had also had to fight the urge to remind Valerie that she didn’t really have any caliber as a star. This was her first really big role, and although Valerie would never admit to as much, Brianne was almost certain she only got the role because she had Callin pull some strings. Valerie was the dragon pack alpha and Callin was a pack member—she likely commanded him to speak to the director of the movie to have her be cast in her role. And Callin was a big enough star that the production company would want to keep him happy, even if that meant hiring Valerie. They probably didn’t mind that much, really. Valerie wasn’t a bad actress, and she likely wasn’t as rude to the higher ups as she was to everyone she deemed to be below her on the set.
Brianne shook her thoughts away as she tapped on the trailer door. She didn’t want to go in looking sullen and set Valerie off immediately.
“What?” Valerie demanded.
“It’s Brianne. I’ve got your coffee,” Brianne said.
“Well, don’t just stand there like an idiot. Get in here,” Valerie snapped.
Brianne pushed the trailer door open, telling herself Valerie hadn’t called her an idiot; she had just told her not to act like one. She knew she was clutching at straws, very flimsy ones, but she had to do something to stop herself from throwing the coffee over Valerie and telling her to go to hell.
Valerie stood in the center of the lounge area of her trailer, fiddling with the white dress she was wearing. She looked up as Brianne came in. Brianne held the coffee cup out to her and Valerie made a tutting sound. She rolled her eyes and pointed to the table. Brianne set the cup down.
“Does this make me look washed out?” Valerie demanded, gesturing at the white dress.
Brianne studied her for a second. She had once made the mistake of answering with an instant no when Valerie had asked her if a certain dress made her ass look chunky, and Valerie had hit the roof, telling her she couldn’t possibly know that because she hadn’t even looked.
Valerie was tall—way taller than Brianne, who was barely five feet four—and she had the sort of voluptuous figure most women would kill for. She was thin, but not painfully so, and her hips and breasts gave her curves in all of the right places. Sometimes, Brianne couldn’t help but compare her wiry frame and small breasts to Valerie’s figure and find herself lacking.
The dress Valerie wore certainly accentuated her body’s features and she looked good in it, but did it wash her out? As a natural redhead, Valerie had pale skin, piercing green eyes, and bright red lips. In truth, the dress should wash her out, but somehow, it didn’t. The pink blush on her cheeks made her look anything but pale and the dress made her look both sensuous and vulnerable, sexual and innocent, all at once. In short, she looked great in the dress. Just like she looked great in everything.
Brianne shook her head slowly and paused so she could time her answer just right.
“No,” Brianne said when she judged the right amount of time had passed for Valerie to accept she had really looked. “In theory, it should, but it doesn’t.”
Valerie reached up and fluffed up her loose curls.
“I’m not convinced. We’ll see how it looks under the studio lighting,” she said.
She picked up her coffee cup, opened the lid, and took a sip. She grimaced as she swallowed and slammed the cup back down. Liquid sloshed over the sides of the cup and began to form a pool around the cup on the table.
“God, Brianne, that’s freezing cold. What the hell have you done with it?” Valerie demanded.
“It’s a twenty-minute drive to the coffee shop because you don’t like the coffee on the set or the coffee from the place down the road,” Brianne said. “I came straight here after purchasing it, but it’s too far to drive for it to stay warm.”
“It’s not good enough,” Valerie said. “I have standards, Brianne, and I expect you to know and respect them.”
“What…?” Brianne started.
“For goodness’ sake,” Valerie snapped. “Next time, take a thermos and have them put the coffee in there. God, Brianne, do I have to think of everything for you? Would you like me to make some calls for you, just in case you actually have to think during one of them?”
Valerie fixed Brianne with a look that made her feel cold inside. Brianne felt tears coming to her eyes and she blinked them back quickly.
“A thermos. Of course. I’m sorry,” she said.
Valerie rolled her eyes again.
“Don’t start with the water works. You need to toughen up, girl. Now, come on. I’m due on set in