Page 22 of In Love with Lewis Prescott
“Lunge at him?”
I scoff, even though she’s right. I’m just too embarrassed to admit it.
“It’s okay for you to admit you’re attracted to a guy, Harper. I know you spent the last several years putting relationships on the back burner to get ahead in your career, but you’re a human being. Hotness is hotness, and we all have a weakness for it.”
I sigh. “You have a point.”
“Seeing a sexy guy work with his hands has got to be some sort of attraction trigger for our lizard brains. Like, if we were cave women, that’s the guy we’d go after—the hot one who can fix stuff for us.”
I roll my eyes and laugh as I merge onto Interstate 280. “I’d like to think we’re a little more evolved than cave women.”
“We are. And we’re not. That pulse you get in your lady bits when you see someone you find attractive is as Neanderthal as it gets. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“There is if you’re living together in a strictly business setup and aren’t supposed to look at each other that way.”
“Come on. Beyond the awkwardness of your run-in this morning, I bet Lewis didn’t totally hate you running into him, and that might have something to do with those tiny tank tops you wear to bed.”
“Ha. Get real, Naomi. The guy was dating a Victoria’s Secret model before he met me.”
The sound of her laughing makes me roll my eyes yet again.
“Of course you’d say that. Because you’re completely unaware of how adorable and sexy you are. Maybe he got a little handsy with himself, just like you almost did.”
“He did say ‘there are worse things in the world than being grabbed in the junk by a cute girl,’” I blurt. “He was clearly joking, but...”
“He liked what he saw this morning, Harper. That’s ironclad proof right there.”
“Lewis is a movie star. He’s dated supermodels, actresses, other celebrities. There’s no way a girl like me would even be a blip on his radar.”
As confident as I am, as much as I’ve accomplished in my life, being around Lewis throws me for a loop. He’s from an entirely different world—he’s a celebrity who’s constantly surrounded by beauty, glamour, glitz, and riches. I’m as regular girl as they come, with my working-class background and normal life. I’m such a far cry from what I’m sure he’s used to.
The scoffing noise Naomi makes catches me off guard. “Harper, don’t you dare talk yourself down. You are the most successful and accomplished person I know. You’ve designed skyscrapers. You were the youngest senior architect at one of the most prestigious firms in the Bay Area. You own your own place in Nob Hill that you’re now letting our college-age cousins live in for free while they finish grad school because you’re a saint. And you’re beautiful. This guy plays pretend for a living. I don’t say that to disparage him—I just want to make it clear that just because he’s famous doesn’t make him any better than you.”
Hearing my cousin sing my praises warms me from the inside out, but then I shake my head. This conversation has gone way off track. I initially called her to vent about how awkward it is to live in the same house as a celebrity dreamboat. Now we’ve veered into this bizarre discussion where she’s insisting that Lewis Prescott has jerked off to me and would be lucky to have me.
“Okay, enough. This isn’t even why I called you in the first place. I just need to figure out how to navigate living with him.”
“Try not to read too much into it. At the end of the day, he’s just a hot guy you’re sharing a house with.”
Naomi’s simple, straightforward words cut right through the muddled thoughts in my brain.
“You’re right. I can do this.”
We say goodbye and hang up. As I drive the rest of the way to the Glad You’re Here office, I repeat what Naomi told me.
“He’s just a hot guy. A hot guy I’m sharing a house with. It’s no big deal. No. Big. Deal.”
Chapter Six
Harper
When I pull into the parking lot and walk inside, I’m greeted by Diana, one of the cofounders of Glad You’re Here, working the front desk.
“Harper! It’s so good to see you again!”
She hops up and wraps me in a hug. She’s a full head taller than me and squeezes so tight that I lose half the air in my lungs. But I love it. Diana is the definition of warm and welcoming, and when I started volunteering for the nonprofit in college, she greeted me just as enthusiastically almost every time she saw me.
“Well, just look at you.” She holds me by the shoulders, her deep brown eyes bright. “Adorable as ever.”
