Page 139 of The Golden Scoop

I lean in slowly until there’s only inches between us. One hand cups her cheek, the other tangles in her hair at the nape of her neck as she looks up at me. Our stare never breaks, except for the quick drop of her eyes to my mouth.

“You sure?” I ask, bending closer.

“Shut up and kiss me, Matthew.”

So I do.

Emma melts into me, throwing her arms around my neck like we’ve been apart for years instead of days. We kiss with all the desperation we’ve been carrying around, but there’s no rush anymore. My teeth catch her bottom lip and she makes the softest sound as I deepen the kiss. One that goes straight to my head.

There’s finally nothing between us. No assignment. No masks. It’s thrilling. Exactly what my dreams are made of.

Better, actually.

I decide right then and there that I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to be the man she deserves.

She pulls back just enough to catch a breath before immediately leaning in again for more.

“Matt Hunt is officially off the market,” she mumbles against my lips. “Now I really do have the scoop of the century.”

I bark out a laugh against her mouth and steal another kiss before we’re both caught red handed in a compromising position. The smile never leaves either of our faces.

“Just wait until I ask you to marry me, Mills,” I say with a wink. “Wouldn’t that be an exclusive?”

THIRTY-TWO

Emma

ONE YEAR LATER

“Four missed calls from ‘My Man’,” I say when Matt picks up the phone. “Have I gone missing and no one told me?”

“I don’t know what’s more surprising,” he says, “that you never changed my name in your phone or that you’re not itching to get home for the game.”

Between wildfire coverage and the brutal heatwave, the newsroom has barely let me breathe all week. The only thing that’s gotten me through the day has been knowing that, for the first time, I’m two games ahead in our Rummikub competition.

“Never met someone so excited to get their ass kicked,” I tease.

Turns out dating your enemy is a whole lot more fun than hating him. Our ridiculous rivalry only gets more competitive with every adventure we stumble into. Except now it’s even better, because even if I lose, I still win.

“You’re getting too cocky, babe,” Matt counters. “Might be time to win a couple more games to knock you off that high horse.”

I snort.

“You know better than to let me win, Matthew.”

“Do I, though?” he sings. “I miss you. How long until you’re home?”

After leaving Golden, I enjoyed exactly five days of unemployment before my contract with the L.A. Times started. As it happens, the interview they called me in for was in fact not about my article going viral.

“Sounds like you’ve had a pretty boring day off,” I say, earning a deep, slow grumble. “Don’t fret. I’m turning onto our street now.”

Matt’s halfway through filming What We Carry, expected to rack up award nominations. He, meanwhile, seems completely unfazed, as if he was born to do this.

I’ve shadowed on set a couple of times, strictly in a girlfriend capacity, and if the praise he’s been receiving isn’t enough confirmation of how talented he is, the size of the bedroom in his new trailer definitely is.

“My patience is always thin when it comes to you,” he says.

I pull up in front of the metal gate and watch as he strolls out of the front door in nothing but a pair of black gym shorts.