Page 20 of In Love with Lewis Prescott
I can’t help but giggle at the way his cheeks turn fire-engine red.
“I’d wear a robe between takes when we weren’t filming, but as soon as the director said, ‘Action,’ I had to strip it off, and I swear to god, there is nothing more humbling than standing on a set, naked except for a tube sock on your private parts, two dozen crew members low-key gawking at and judging you.”
I cover my mouth to stifle my laughter. “That sounds like my worst nightmare,” I say when I catch my breath.
He shrugs while smiling, the red on his cheeks fading to pink. “It’s all part of the job. And that wasn’t even the worst of it. In the middle of the makeout scene, I had to hoist her up around my waist and bounce her up and down so it looked like we were really going at it. The water combined with the material of the sock and numerous takes resulted in some pretty serious chafing.”
I hunch over and grip the edge of the countertop, I’m laughing so hard. After several seconds of attempting to catch my breath, I straighten up. “I’m sorry for laughing. That sounds so painful.”
He waves a hand like he’s not bothered at all. In fact, the gleam in his eyes reads amused as he watches me. “Nah, it’s hilarious looking back on it now.”
When I finally catch my breath for the second time, I feel my stomach growl. I grab my doughnut and finish the rest.
“Thanks for that. I feel a lot better now.” I grimace at my wording. I still sound like I’m making this whole mess about me.
Lewis gulps some water, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “There are worse things in the world than being grabbed in the junk by a cute girl.”
He winks at me before turning around to the sink and washing his hands. What feels like a tiny butterfly flapping its wings inside my tummy hits me. That was a smooth-as-hell way to end the conversation. I gulp more water and dial back that giddy feeling in an attempt to refocus. Lewis was just being playful with his “grabbed in the junk by a cute girl” comment. Nothing more, nothing less. And if he knew that I almost pleasured myself after that accidental encounter, he definitely wouldn’t be thinking such a sweet thing about me.
“You know, you’re not at all what I thought you’d be like.”
My out-of-the-blue comment earns me a confused frown followed by a half smile. “I’m not sure how to take that.”
I shake my head, just now realizing how awkward I sounded. “Okay, this is probably going to sound obnoxious, but you have kind of a reputation in Hollywood.”
His expression falls slightly, and I immediately regret how I’ve worded things.
“I didn’t mean that in a bad way. It’s just that you give off this boldness, and I find that really intriguing. You’re very private, and you don’t take crap from intrusive interviewers. You’re not afraid to get in the face of paparazzi when they’re aggressive with you. You come off as a total badass with a major case of ‘I don’t give a fuck.’”
When he starts to smile again, it feels like a win.
“I guess I didn’t think you’d be so fun-loving and goofy and sweet too. But that’s my own ignorance. I should know better than to take everything that I see portrayed in the media at face value. So much goes on behind the scenes that the public couldn’t possibly understand.”
His gaze turns thoughtful, and for a second it looks like he’s going to say something. But he purses his lips and stays quiet.
My cheeks and chest grow hot as I work up the courage to say this final thing. “It nice, that you’re letting me see this side of you. You barely know me.”
I study the slate gray countertop, too afraid to look at him. It was such an unprompted confession. I have no idea how he’ll take it.
“Harper.”
I look up when he says my name, dizzy at the expression on his face: warmth and affection all at once.
“I may not know you very well, but I like you,” he says softly. “You’re honest and genuine. I felt that from you right off the bat when I met you. That makes it easy to be myself. I don’t always get that opportunity in my line of work.”
I’m blown away at the caliber of his compliment. “That means a lot, to know that you feel like you can trust me.”
His focused gaze lingers on me for a long moment before he turns back to the sink to refill his glass.
“Okay, should we get started?” he asks.
“Definitely.”
I grab my laptop from the kitchen counter and walk over to his side of the island. He shows me his laptop screen and goes over the ideas he’s come up with.
“Based on the walk-through you gave me yesterday and everything you told me you wanted to complete in this renovation, this is the schedule I came up with,” he says. “I broke down each project and the approximate number of weeks I think it’ll take me to finish each one. I highlighted the projects that I’ll need your help on.”
“Wow, this is really well thought-out.”
