She popped up from the other side of the counter. “Here. I just spilled my coffee.” She held up a cloth as if to prove her point. “I’m not very coordinated in the morning.”
Maybe not, but she was beautiful. Her cheeks were flushed and her chestnut hair fanned out over her shoulders. I scanned her body, stopping when I found what I was looking for. “Nice skirt.” I tried to suppress my grin. She might make me work for it, but the reward was well worth it.
She lifted her shoulder as if it was no big deal. I knew better. I couldn’t imagine Lana was the type of girl who did what men told her very often.
“You look beautiful.”
She ignored my compliment. “Ready to go?”
“Your carriage awaits.”
She beamed, the warmth of her unrestrained smile radiating out at me.
I held the door open and she passed by, leaving a trail of ocean breeze and roses. She was like an old-Hollywood movie star.
“Where’s your car?” She paused at the top of the steps and looked back at me.
I nodded forward. “Right there. I thought I’d mix it up a little.”
Her eyebrows drew together a little before she turned back and headed toward the SUV.
“You had a sports car.”
“I thought this was a little less conspicuous. That okay?”
Her shoulders lowered as she approached the passenger side. “Yeah. It’s more than okay.” I unlocked the car and reached for her door. Our hands collided. “You don’t need to do that.”
“I told you, I’m a boy from the Midwest. That’s what we do, so you’ll have to put up with it.” She dropped her hand and I took over. I wasn’t sure if she liked me in charge or whether she relented out of politeness. Either way, it felt good.
She slid into the seat as if she weren’t subject to the same rules of gravity as the rest of us. Fluid. Graceful.
I shut the door and rounded the trunk, spinning my keys on my forefinger. Yeah, today was going to be a good day.
“Holy crap, was I meant to pack the lunch?” she said, slapping her palms on her pleated skirt, the fabric riding up her thighs.
“I got it covered,” I replied, trying to pull my attention from her legs to the rearview mirror so I could reverse out of the drive.
“You do?”
“In the trunk. I didn’t make it, but it looks pretty good.”
“That’s so sweet of you.”
“Hey, I can’t exactly ask a girl on a date and then expect her to make the food.” I pulled onto the street and glanced at her when she didn’t respond.
“A date?” she asked, watching my face carefully.
“Yeah, a date.” I hadn’t really thought about it, but what else was it? I’d fucked her. I definitely wanted to fuck her again, and we were going to be spending the day exploring the coast alone. I was pretty sure this was a date.
“I thought I was just showing you my state,” she mumbled.
I chuckled. “I don’t want to sound like an asshole, but some girls might not be so downbeat at the thought of going on a date with me.”
She folded her arms. “I’m not some girls.”
“Well, that’s for damn sure.” I grinned as I turned onto Main Street.
“I just . . . I thought we were friends is all.”
“We are friends. Doesn’t mean we can’t be more.”
She took a deep breath. Would she deny it? She’d worn a skirt at my request, which didn’t exactly scream “friend zone.” How much of a fight was she going to put up?
“Where are we headed?” she asked, slipping her sunglasses over her eyes and slouching in her seat as we drove down Main Street.
“These windows are tinted. No one can see in.”
“People are staring,” she said.
“No, they’re not, but even if they were, who cares? Why are you so uncomfortable with a little attention? You’re gorgeous. I’d have thought you’d be used to it.”
“I don’t like people knowing my business.”
“So you decided to live in a small town?” I chuckled, turning out of Main Street and onto the main coastal highway. “Aren’t you better off in a big city?”
“Worthington is my home. I told you I went to college in New York.” Her voice trailed off and when I glanced at her she was staring at her lap. “It didn’t suit me.”
I loved New York—the buzz, the ambition, the complete melting pot of people. It seemed so exciting compared to Gary, Indiana. Places like Worthington existed in the glossy pages of magazines and books, but I found it hard to believe people actually lived there. Not because it wasn’t beautiful—it was too beautiful. Almost manufactured, it looked so perfect.
“What didn’t you like?”
“In college, everyone is in everyone else’s business.” Her hands were folded across her chest and her answers were clipped. She was clearly uncomfortable talking about this and I wanted to know why.
“I think you get that wherever you go, though. People love to gossip. And the bad is outweighed by the good.”
“Really?” She loosened her seatbelt and turned to face me. “Don’t you hate people constantly taking pictures of you, regardless of what you’re doing? Even if you’re just coming out of the gym or going to a restaurant?”
“It gets old, but success as a Hollywood actor comes at a price.”
“Isn’t that too much of a sacrifice?”
“I can’t really complain. It’s like wanting to become a lawyer but not enjoying reading or becoming a baker but hating cakes. No job is perfect. And if I want to be successful in Hollywood, being recognized is just part of it. I just have to put up with it. It’s my choice, and the upside is I paid off my dad’s mortgage, bought each of my brothers a house. I mean, there’s a lot to love about this acting gig.” I grinned, and thankfully she smiled back.
“Must be a nice feeling, providing for your family like that.” She rested the side of her head against the seat back.
I reached out, found her hand and laced our fingers together. “It is. And if I have someone taking pictures of me leaving the gym, well, I can handle that. It’s not the photographs themselves that are a problem. The thing that bothers me most is how people in the industry think they know me because they’ve seen my picture. Or a movie I’m in. Or because I used to be a model. They make assumptions—people have opinions about me before they’ve even met me.”
“I get that,” she said. “People can judge. But that’s true whoever you are.”
“I guess.” I sighed. “You’ve never wanted to be famous?” I asked. “Even as a kid?”
She shook her head. “Never. I’ve always loved jewelry and design. I thought at one point I’d want to do really high-end, exclusive pieces for the wealthy and fabulous.”
“What changed your mind?” I asked.
She shrugged and turned back to face the windshield, pulling her hand from mine. “Dreams change. I wanted to be in Worthington, so the shop made sense.”
I nodded. “I get it. When I left Indiana, I headed to Wall Street. I thought I was going to be some kind of finance whizz kid.”
“Really?” she asked, turning back to look at me. “So you haven’t always wanted to be an actor?”
“God, not at all. I wanted to wear slick suits and talk about options and trading and be a king of Wall Street. I really thought I was going to be a stockbroker.”