Page 76 of Breaking Hollywood

She shakes her head.

“How is that even possible?” I stare at her, wide-eyed.

“I don’t know. I’ve just never gotten around to watching it.”

“One of the greatest films of all time, and you’ve never seen it. And you work in the movie industry.”

“Did work.”

“You work for me. I’m an actor. You still work in the movie industry.” Like I need to remind myself that she works for me.

“Fine, fine.” She steps a little further into my room. “It’s not that I don’t like gangster movies; they’re just not at the top of my list.”

“Don’t tell me; chick flicks are your favorite.”

She huffs at me. “Stereotype much? Actually, I love horror movies and comedies. And haven’t you starred in a bunch of chick flicks? Pot, kettle black.”

“Touché.” I grin. “So, horror movies, huh?”

“Yeah. Like the old-school Freddy Krueger, Jason, Hellraiser movies. I love them.”

Just when I think I have her all figured out, she throws me a curveball, and it makes me just want her all the more.

“You’re weird. You know that, right?”

“Oh, yeah, I totally know.” She smiles.

“Well, weirdo, come and sit your ass down.” I pat the space on the bed next to me. “And let me educate you in the greatness that is the Godfather movies.”

Her lips lift at the corners, and then she pads across the room. Coming around to the other side of the bed, she climbs up and sits back against the headboard, her legs stretched out in front of her.

Okay, so maybe inviting her onto my bed wasn’t the best idea. Because, now, I’ve got the scent of apples filling my nose, and those smooth, silky bare legs are right in my line of sight.

Torture, sheer torture.

I need a distraction.

“Where’s Gucci?” I ask.

“She’s just in the kitchen, having a late-night snack.”

Only her goat would be having a late-night snack.

“You wanna get her?”

She turns her head and looks at me. There’s a warmth in her eyes that makes me feel weightless for a moment.

“You sure?”

“At least, if she’s in here, then I can keep an eye on her.”

She smiles, like she’s onto me, and then calls for Gucci.

The goat appears seconds later, running straight into my bedroom and up onto the bed. She flops down at Speedy’s feet, laying her head on them.

I stare down at the goat. “Um, Speedy?”

“Do you want me to move her off the bed?”