“I’m working the kissing booth. Eloise emailed me about it, and I said I’d do it.”
“Tell me you’re joking.”
He grinned. “It’ll be great for the town.”
“Ian.”
“What?” He laughed the word. “You know I love this kind of stuff.”
I did know it. He loved Kirby Falls. He liked playing pool with the regulars down at Mattie B’s and going to trivia night at Trailview Brewing. He met my neighbors and signed autographs and took pictures with anyone who asked. He’d helped the head librarian with a fundraiser by sharing it in his Instagram stories. Her programming was funded for the next thirty years. When the barista over at Cubhouse Coffee had remembered Ian’s order and asked if he wanted his usual, he’d been so thrilled, he’d mentioned it no less than a dozen times that day. Ian had been absorbed into our community, and he relished every moment of it.
Part of me worried it was the novelty of our small town that had drawn Ian’s attention. My cynical side was sure it would wear off when hecouldn’t get delivery after 9:00 p.m. or once he realized how close-minded some folks could be. It was all fun and games when there was a pie-eating contest or a children’s art show to judge. But when rural communities faced hardship or disaster, people were often left out in the cold.
Then there was the fact that I didn’t much like Eloise Carter taking advantage of Ian and his generosity. He didn’t owe us shit.
A kissing booth.Jesus Christ. There’d be a line a mile long.
“You don’t have to participate in every damn thing, Ian. It’s not your responsibility to help the town raise money for the new community park, or whatever she’s promised you you’ll be doing. Kirby Falls doesn’t need to get famous at your expense.”
Unbothered, Ian’s hands reached for me. He clutched my hips and turned me to face him. Blue eyes twinkling, he asked, “Are you jealous, Joanie? It’s only cheek kisses. No need to worry. These lips are all yours.”
I tried to hold on to my anger, but my grip faltered. A resigned smile tipped up the corners of my mouth. “You are ridiculous.”
“Thank you.”
“And you’re going to regret this whole Spring Fling nonsense.”
He shrugged. “Maybe, but I doubt it.”
I could hear George counting out the Monopoly money.
“Hey, before we go get our asses kicked by Mr. Moneybags in there,” Ian started, “I wanted to ask you something.”
“Okay.”
He hesitated, licking his lips and releasing a breath through his nose.
I straightened, unsure what he could possibly want to know that would make him so visibly nervous.
“Would you—” He paused, shaking his head as if to clear it before smiling self-consciously and saying, “Fuck it. Would you like to come with me to my premiere next month? It’s for the thirdInferno Manfilm. I can show you around LA. We’ll dress up, walk the red carpet. It’ll befun, I promise. I’ll plan the whole thing. You’ll just have to show up. And you’ll get to meet Eddie J, finally. He won’t shut up about meeting you.”
I felt my jaw drop partway through Ian’s nervous rambling.
“You can say no. If you want. It’s okay,” he added, when I’d failed to respond.
Forcing my mouth closed, I managed a swallow on the third attempt. “Ian, that’s really nice of you, but I’m not sure I’d fit in?—”
“I won’t drag you to any parties or loud places. We could go to the beach. I know you like the ocean. The weather will be amazing. The premiere would just be a small part of it. One night.”
The hopefulness in his expression hollowed my stomach. The earnest way he stood waiting filled it with butterflies.
“Can I think about it?” I heard myself saying, very distantly, like I was standing in a deep hole I’d dug for myself.
“Yes! Of course!” he replied emphatically, nodding. And I knew his reaction was because he’d been expecting a no.
Something about that made me wish I was different. Someone who could say yes easily when presented with such an opportunity. But I wasn’t that person. I liked plans and didn’t want to inconvenience my co-workers by taking last-minute time off. And as much as Ian might hope differently, I was never going to be a woman who could confidently walk a red carpet. I didn’t understand anything about his world.
He’d found a way to fit into mine, but then again, most charming people could chart their own course. I wasn’t charismatic or friendly. Dorian Masters’s colleagues and friends would take one look at me and think he’d lost his damn mind.
