Page 66 of Doc Hollywood

Taylor pulled his phone out of his back pocket. “Craft services will be closed, so I’ll order us a pizza. How did you enjoy the lunch from Craft? They’re great cooks. They put on a fantastic spread every day, even if I’m not allowed to eat most of the food,” he said the last bit grumpily.

“That’s what you call your catering? Craft Services?” she questioned.

“Yeah. Did no one take you?”

“No.” Clara shook her head; she had known Lacey had gone to eat, and she couldn’t understand why the other woman hadn’t said anything.

“What did you eat?”

“A sandwich.” She shuddered at the memory of the plastic-tasting food.

“Where did you get it from?”

“The petrol station,” Clara said slowly.

Taylor cringed. “You ate a sandwich from a petrol station? Why would you do that?”

“Well, Mr Movie Star. Some of us mere mortals don’t have the luxury of assistants making sure we eat a balanced diet and have to get food wherever we can find it,” she growled, crossing her arms defensively over her chest, glaring at him before she deflated. “Sorry, I get hangry. Can you tell?”

A small smile quirked at the corner of Taylor’s lips. “Yes, it was fairly clear. I’ll order pizza to eat here while we unpack, and then we can have some dessert at my hotel. Their crème brulée is amazing.”

“Really, you don’t need to stay and help me. I won’t be that long. You go home. You must be tired. And also, I’m sure you told me that you weren’t meant to be eating pizza and wouldn’t crème brulée also be off limits.”

Taylor shrugged. “It’s a special occasion. I’m having pizza and dessert.”

“What’s the special occasion?” Clara was puzzled.

Was it his birthday? No, it wasn’t that. She had seen his date of birth when she had Googled him, which she had only done twice, okay four times, since he had left.

“You being here. It’s great to see you again.” He smiled down at her.

Clara was stunned. Her being there was worth a celebration? She was frozen for a few moments until she narrowed her eyes.

“Nope. You just want an excuse to eat pizza.”

He shrugged again but didn’t say anything. Instead, he looked down at his phone to find somewhere to order food. “Any toppings you don’t like?”

“No weird toppings,” Clara said and went back to her boxes. The quicker she unloaded them, the quicker she could get a crème brulée.

“What do you define as weird?” Taylor questioned, his hand poised over his phone to order.

“I dunno, like anchovies.” Clara waved her arm vaguely as she crouched over a box on the floor.

“Do people order anchovies on pizza?” He sounded disgusted.

“Normal people don’t. But I don’t know what weird things you movie stars like to eat in the name of health. I’m sure they’re rich in omega something or other, so they could be a staple of your diet,” Clara chortled.

“Nope. No weird mini-fish things for me. How about one pepperoni and one Hawaiian to share?”

“Do we need two pizzas? Won’t that be too much food?”

“I’m not allowed pizza, so I can guarantee you I will eat at least one. And I’m a foot taller than your tiny self, so I need more food. Anyway, it’s too late. I’ve ordered them online, along withsome garlic bread and lemonade.” He shoved his phone back into his pocket.

Clara chuckled quietly to herself. At five-feet-six inches and seventy-something kilos, she had never been called tiny before. While she wasn’t big, she knew she wasn’t tiny. But she didn’t say that, not wanting to seem like a simpering girl.

Instead, she said, “That’s a huge amount of food! And also, everyone is tiny when you’re a man giant.”

“True! Have you met Devon yet? She’s smaller than you!” Taylor held his hand up somewhere mid-chest level.

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