Page 45 of In Love with Lewis Prescott
“Hey! What are you doing here? The park’s closed!”
I whip my head around and spot a dark figure about a hundred feet away jogging toward us, flashlight in hand.
“Shit,” we blurt in unison.
“Run?”
“Run!”
Lewis doesn’t even bother to throw on his clothes before he takes off, his sweatpants and shirt in hand. I sprint as fast as my short legs will take me, but I can’t keep up with his monster stride.
“You stop right now!” the guy, who I assume is either a security guard or cop, yells behind us.
My lungs are on fire as I pump harder and harder in an attempt to catch up to Lewis. Just then, he spins around, scoops me off my feet, and chucks me over his shoulder.
I yelp at just how swift and strong he is. Even my added weight doesn’t seem to slow him down. He speeds ahead toward our car, barely even panting.
“Almost to the car,” he huffs.
And that’s when I realize I’m facing his ass. His beautiful, bare, solid, upside-down ass. My eyes go wide at the sight. Even in the nighttime, it’s crystal clear just what a flawless backside Lewis has.
Before I can dwell too much on it, he sets me down, opens the passenger door, and I jump inside. He hops into the driver’s seat, starts the car, and speeds away. As he peels down the street, I twist in my seat to catch a glimpse of the person chasing us, who’s now a tiny dot in the distance. I let out a shaky breath. That means he didn’t get a good look at us or my car.
Lewis weaves through the hilly streets of San Francisco for the next minute before easing to a stop at a traffic light. When we turn to look at each other, we don’t speak a word—I’m too busy processing the chaos of the last minute, and I bet he is too. His face is red from running, and our chests heave in tandem as we catch our breath. Then I glance down at Lewis’s torso...and promptly direct my eyes back to his face. Because he’s still totally naked.
We burst out laughing at the same moment.
“Apologies for riding bare-ass in the driver’s seat of your car,” he says. “There was no time to get dressed.”
I spot the pile of his clothes bunched up near my feet. I clutch my stomach as I nearly pass out, I’m laughing so hard. When I catch my breath, I wipe my eyes. “No apologies necessary. Especially after you scooped me up like a superhero and sprinted us to safety. I was definitely deadweight, and we would have gotten caught if you hadn’t done that.”
The light turns green, and he pulls ahead. “It was no problem. You mind if I find a place to park so I can get dressed?”
“Go right ahead.”
I put my hand over my mouth, in awe of this moment. We went from the adrenaline rush of almost getting arrested for trespassing to laughing our asses off in less than a minute. And now, as Lewis drives my car stark naked, it somehow feels so natural and comfortable. I can’t remember the last time I did something so ridiculous or had so much fun.
Lewis pulls into an open parking spot in front of a late-night diner. I hand him his clothes and pivot slightly to my right and look out the window, giving him as much privacy as I can in my cramped hatchback while he gets dressed.
“Decent,” he says after a minute.
“You want some food?” I point to the diner, which boasts a sign on the window touting the best milkshakes and fries in all of the Bay Area. “My treat.”
He grins. “Sure.”
We order two milkshakes and a large basket of fries to go, then sit on the hood of my car and chow down. I glance over at Lewis, about to tell him that we can sit in the car if he wants to avoid being spotted, but he looks completely relaxed. If he were uncomfortable, I’m sure he would have said something.
“Sorry I almost got us arrested. Or ticketed. Or whatever the penalty is for loitering at a public park after dark to take nude photos,” I say after sipping my strawberry malt.
Lewis frowns at me. “Why are you sorry? That was a blast. I haven’t had that much fun in a long, long time.”
“Really?” I quirk an eyebrow at him. “You go to award shows and galas and premieres. Running buck naked from a security guard on a random night while carrying me over your shoulder is your idea of a good time?” I tease.
Something flickers behind his eyes as he stares at me. “Yeah. It is.”
My instinct is to assume he’s just being polite. He’s a celebrity—a bona fide TV star. He’s accustomed to doing exciting and glamorous things every day—things that regular people like me could never imagine doing.
Or maybe he’s telling the truth and really did have fun. But that’s probably just the novelty of doing something completely different. If Lewis had to live the regular life I lived in Half Moon Bay day after day, long-term, I’m sure he’d grow bored of it. A guy who is used to working on TV and movie sets all over the world wouldn’t be happy living my normal-person life.
