Just outside of Seattle.
“Hey, Ansel Barlowe?”
He groaned, dragging his hand down his face. “What?”
“Why are you in Seattle?”
“Oh my god,” he muttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Hey,” I said a little too loud, “big empty bar, pal. You sat next to me.” I jabbed my finger into his shoulder.
“Why not him?” His thumb jerked towards the television, where a red-carpet premiere was taking place, redirecting the conversation. The actor on the screen was tall and lean, with blonde hair and a winning smile. “Or her?” The camera had shifted to the leggy brunette on his right.
“Weren’t you in a movie with her?” I tried to tame my wild grin. I have only everdreamedof a moment like this.
Granted, when I dreamt of meeting my hero, idol, and celebrity crush… I wasn’t newly divorced.
And drunk.
“She’s high-maintenance.” He said with a shake of his head, a sandy-blonde curl falling into his eyes. “Don’t pick her for a hall pass.”
“I don’tneeda hall pass anymore, Ansel Barlowe.” I giggled.Giggled. Oh my god, who is this person?
“You don’t have to call me by my full Actors Guild given name, hon.” He turned to face me fully.
With what someone could have considered asmile, he took a sip of his drink, gaze never leaving mine.“Isn’t Ansel… your legal name?”
His eyes just tightened up.
I didn’t know when to stop. “Are you telling me I’m officially on a first-name basis with Ansel Bar-?”
His eyes narrowed even further, threatening me to finish my sentence.
A little thrill curled in my stomach, justthinkingabout all the things I was trying to keep my mind from. “Very well,Barlowe.” I stuck my hand out towards him. “Juniper Haddock.”
“Like the fish?”
It was my turn to scowl at him, shaking my head. “I mean, Iguess. I prefer the Canadian locality, but if the fish is what helps you remember.”
“Am I going to need to remember your last name?” His grin turned smarmy, an eyebrow quirked as his eyes roamed, blatantly taking me in.
“You frequently moan last names in bed?” I leaned in, dropping my voice low.
I don’t know who this girl is.
“Nuh-uh.” He leaned backwards, frowning. “No way.” His arms were crossed, brow furrowed. “You’re drunkandnewly divorced. I might be a has-been. But I’m not a sleaze.” He took a long swig of his drink. “Besides, you’re what… twenty-four?”
The laugh that came out of my mouth was atrocious. Loud and annoying. Everything Joel had always said I was.
Unladylike and crass.
“Oh, youarea charmer,” I grinned, refusing to lean backwards, refusing to shrink. “I’m drunk, newly divorced, andthirty-three, Barlowe.”
“I’ve been your hall pass since when?” Changing the subject again, I see.
“Since the red leather pants inBattle for the Cosmos.”
He choked on his drink. “That was objectively the worst outfit in cinematic history.”
