Page 20 of Flirty Thirty

His eyes drift up from my lips, and I push a hand over the nose wrinkle I hope I won’t be hyper aware of now that he’s pointed it out. I’ll just have to learn to be perfectly unsurprised by him.

I let out a breath and take his hand, noticing the twitch in his dimple the moment I do. Perhaps that is his “nose wrinkle,” and I intend to be as unpredictable as he is to test my theory.

He leads us past another executive spot, that one saying it’s reserved for a Robert Sterling.

“Related?” I ask, nodding to the white paint. He follows my gaze and nods.

“My brother.”

“Older? Younger?”

“Younger.” He grins, stepping up to an elevator and inserting a key. “He’s coming up on his thirtieth. I plan to make it as torturous for him as he did for me.”

“What was so bad about yours?”

We step inside the private elevator, and Cooper sticks his key in again before hitting a button for one of the upper levels.

“Paid for company.”

“Escort service?”

His head falls back as he laughs. “Not quite as scandalous. It was a just the moment I realized that my life wasn’t all that I’d wanted it to be, especially when I had made no genuine connections to any other human being. Not everyone can handle my social awkwardness.” His eyes meet mine. “Very depressing day.”

I think back to only a few days prior, to my own thirtieth. No paid for company, but I didn’t exactly want company at all. It was afabulousday.

“We really are such polar opposites,” I tell him, looking up at the numbers ticking through the floors. “My thirtieth was the moment I realized my life was everything I wanted it to be.”

“You spent it with friends? Family?”

“My cats.”

He chuckles. “Just when I think you couldn’t possibly be more captivating, you make even small talk something worth discussing.”

Is this small talk? It feels deeper to me, like tiny sparks of light making who he is much clearer, but perhaps to someone like him, this is small. I find myself involuntarily inching closer to him, my cheek grazing the sleeve of his pajama shirt. I can feel the small amount of contact all the way into my toes.

The elevator hits the level we need, and the doors open to a very loud studio. There are so many people with headsets, clipboards, and cell phones running around a giant set of beds. My eyebrows rise, and I look up to Cooper and wait for him to explain exactly what I’m tagging along for.

He holds back a grin at my reluctance, nearly tugging me onto the studio floor.

“Cooper…” I say, eying the crew, all donning different versions of the same shirt we’re wearing. He stops pulling and steps in front of me, reaching to swipe a loose strand of hair from my eyes, but stopping himself and letting his arm fall back to his side.

“You’re not camera shy, are you?”

9

Meet the Sheets

Truth? I’m not camera shy. My face is on business cards and I’m not opposed to posting the occasional selfie with my cats.

However, when I’m faced with a professional commercial and advertising crew, I am incredibly camera shy.

My feet slide on the floor as I dig my heels into the smooth surface. “Cooper…”

“Relax.” He squeezes my hand. “We’re just the stand-ins.”

“And what does that entail?”

“Mostly messing around in front of the camera while they test the lighting.”

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