Page 6 of In Love with Lewis Prescott
“You know we’re not into all that traditional wedding stuff. I mean, I proposed to Simon.”
“Okay, fair enough. But thank god you still want a bachelorette party. There’s no way I’d let you get away with forgoing that.”
“Simon actually suggested having a bachelor-bachelorette party. That way we wouldn’t have to hire a male stripper, since, you know...he’d do it.”
I roll my eyes and laugh. “Of course he’d suggest that.”
My cousin’s future husband is a cam guy turned relationship therapist with progressive views about everything. He’s also an insanely romantic guy who lives to make her happy, and nothing would make Naomi happier than seeing her fiancé perform the striptease at her bachelorette party. I’m sure Simon would absolutely nail it, given that he won an amateur strip club night when they were just work colleagues, before anything romantic happened between them. It was supposed to be strictly business, a fun scene for the online series she was filming about Simon’s work and life. But the dance must have knocked her socks off, because the professional lines blurred and they started hooking up. I’m convinced that seeing Simon in all hisMagic Mikeglory marked the beginning of when she started to fall for him.
“I’ll plan something amazing for your bachelorette party, promise,” I tell her. “When are you...”
When I glance up, my eyes go wide at the sight of Lewis Prescott walking into the coffee shop. Damn, what are the odds of seeing him again?
His chest heaves as he takes a breath, his head pivoting as he glances across the room. His eyes lock on me before he throws a quick look at the counter, which is now empty, since the baristas are currently rummaging in the back room. He darts over to me.
“Hey.” His voice is a low, breathy whisper as he plops onto the couch I’m sitting on. “Harper, right? Can I use you as a hiding spot?”
“Um, what?”
“Who’s that?” Naomi’s asks.
Before I can say anything, Lewis yanks off his jacket, turns it inside out, stretches his long body over the couch, curls into the fetal position, and rests his face on my lap before throwing the jacket over his head. My thigh muscles twitch at the sudden feel of his face against my body.
“When they come in, say I’m your husband. Say I’m sleeping,” he whispers.
The warmth of his mouth as he breathes against my denim-covered thighs turns my brain to slop. Fire flashes up my chest and my cheeks. Well, that was unexpected.
Was it really, though? It’s been a solid three years since I’ve been in a relationship, thanks to my workaholic lifestyle. And the last time I cozied up to anyone was over a year ago, when I flirted with a random guy at a bar and made out with him at the end of the night. When we sobered up the next day, we realized we didn’t have anything in common, and our flirty texting petered out after that.
So yeah... I guess it makes sense why the feel of a sexy TV star’s face pressed against my leg would cause a full-body hot flash.
Thankfully Lewis doesn’t seem to notice the reaction I’m having. He hasn’t said a word in the twenty seconds he’s been tucked into me.
I dry swallow and clear my throat. “Naomi, I, uh, I’m gonna call you back, okay? Something just came up.” Or dropped down...
When I hang up, a trio of college-aged women strolls into the coffee shop, their heads pivoting as they gaze around the space. The movement reminds me of a flock of flamingos darting their beaks in every direction in search of insects to eat.
They peer over at me. “Hey!” one of them says. “Have you...”
She drifts off when I press my index finger to my lips. “I’m sorry, but can you please keep it down?” I ask in a gentle voice. “My husband has a migraine. If you talk too loudly, it’ll aggravate his pain and he’ll spew chunks everywhere.”
All three of them grimace in unison before quickly backing away and heading out the door. I count to ten to make sure no one else walks in before tapping Lewis’s shoulder.
“The coast is clear.”
I expect him to dart up instantly, but when he keeps his head nestled in my lap for the next several seconds, my breath catches. Did he fall asleep?
But then the low rumble of his laugh hits my ears.
“Migraine-induced vomiting, huh?” he says, his head still covered by his jacket. He gives my knee a light squeeze, and I almost gasp at how playful it is.
“Best I could come up with on such short notice.”
He pulls off the jacket and sits up, the most adorably sheepish look on his face. I nearly stutter out loud, but I catch myself. I’m blown away at just how playful he’s being in this moment. Even though I’m not an obsessed fangirl, I’ve watched a good chunk of his movies and a few episodes of his show, and I’ve caught some of his interviews. I’ve only ever seen him as the cool, collected TV star. And the skittish grump from yesterday.
I shake my head slightly. I’m being ridiculous. He’s a human being. He can have different facets to his personality, just like we all do.
“Thanks for helping me out,” he mumbles. “Sorry too. That was pretty intrusive of me to put my head in your lap like that. We barely know each other.”
