Page 19 of The Golden Scoop

I roll my eyes. As if I’m allowed to leave.

He gets through the questions as if he’d been practicing for days. Not a single stumble or missed syllable. His camera-ready smile never falters. It’s polished. So perfect it’s suspicious. It should be impossible to be this good, but he showcases his ability to do this over and over again.

It doesn’t take long, and the second they take the mics off him, he rushes over to me, grabs my hand, and drags me out of the studio.

“Where are we going?” I say, trying to break free from his hold. He doesn’t budge until we’re in the parking lot, standing in front of a pearl-white Corvette that probably cost more than I’m going to make in my entire life.

“I told you,” Matt says, opening the passenger door for me. “I’m taking you out.”

He’s trapped me between the car and his chest, but as stubborn as I am, I don’t get in.

“I’ve been watching you eat all day, so I know you’ve been fed,” he whispers, his voice deep, “but I’m starving. I’d appreciate it if we could be adults about this and get going before I decide to devour something else.”

I shut my mouth and slide in.

“That has to be some sort of HR violation,” I grumble once we’re on the road.

He turns to me with an eyebrow raised.

“You do realize we don’t actually work together, right?”

“Even so.”

He laughs, finding my grumpiness amusing.

“Look, there are very few ways I can get you to cooperate,” he explains, which, annoyingly, isn’t wrong. “And I’ve found one that flusters you enough to leave you speechless, and by default, gets you moving.”

“Great. Not only do I have to deal with your smugness, but also you being downright inappropriate.”

“Will you forgive me if I tell you I’m going to treat you to the best chocolate muffin you’ve ever had in your life?”

“No.”

“I’ll have an unsweetened iced tea and a chicken avocado wrap,” Matt tells the cashier.

“Would you like anything?” she asks, offering me a fake smile, her whites on full display. She’s batting her eyelashes at him, swinging her perfectly styled auburn hair over her shoulder to give him a strategic view of her chest.

I’m already annoyed I have to spend so much time with him, and if that wasn’t enough, now I have to witness women throwing themselves at him at every turn. I reel my anger in, ready to politely decline, but Matt speaks before I have the chance.

“She’ll have an iced latte with oat milk, two splashes of caramel.”

Our gazes meet, because he was already staring at me, and my shock is met by his mischievous blue eyes, glistening like he’s enjoying a private joke.

Like how he knows my exact coffee order by heart.

“Coming right up, Matt,” she says. “It’ll be $23.50.”

“Could you please add a chocolate muffin to that?” he says before handing over his card.

She nods, taps on her screen until the receipt comes out, then proceeds to scribble her phone number on the back.

“In case you want something extra later,” she says with a wink.

He smirks.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

By the time our order is ready, there are a couple of paparazzi waiting outside. I’m thinking we’re going to go back to set, or eat in the car, but he takes a seat by the far window, leaving me no choice but to follow.