Page 20 of The Golden Scoop

We eat in silence for the first five minutes. I pick at my muffin, still confused as to how this man knows such details about me. He seems to be in his own world, probably counting the minutes until he can get rid of me and ride into the sunset with the cashier. Not that I care what he does after this.

I don’t want to be the first to budge, but I have to know.

“How?” is all I say.

He grins, satisfied that I broke.

“I heard you order one the day before the wedding.”

“And you memorized it? That’s not weird at all.”

He shrugs, not even slightly embarrassed.

“I pay attention to things that matter.”

Nope. We’re not acknowledging that. I return my focus to my muffin while he finishes his food. This new dynamic he has going on is making me uneasy. It’s so far from our usual hatred that I don’t know how to feel about it.

Once in the comfort of his car, with his attention focused on the road, I pull out my notebook to write down the loose thoughts in my mind. I’m hoping at some point it all comes together and starts making some sense.

“Get in that death trap you call a vehicle and follow me.”

I groan loudly.

It’s almost four. We’re back on set. He’s parked right next to my Jeep and has come around to open the door for me.

“I thought we were done.”

“Just about. I have one more thing I want to show you.”

I’m tired. I want to get home. And I know he won’t let me out of his car until I agree.

“Fine.”

He steps aside and waits until I’m buckled in and ready to go before he starts his car. I wonder what would happen if I ditched him at the first light. I’m tempted. But I have a feeling he would still find me.

The drive takes about fifteen minutes, winding up into the Hollywood Hills. The higher we go, the more anxious I get. I’m about to back out when he stops in front of a gate, opens it, and turns into a driveway carved straight into the hillside.

The house is gorgeous. A luxury villa with sharp straight lines, flat roofs, and enormous glass panels that reflect the outside. Light-colored concrete with dark framing stretching wide across the hill like it grew out of it itself.

“Seriously?” I hiss. If I could slam my car door, I would. Too bad they’re sitting in my living room. “This was what I needed to see? Your house?”

“Insight no one has ever had before.”

“On what? Your arrogance?”

He laughs, opening up the front door.

“You have a strange way of saying you like it,” he replies, reaching for my hand. I tuck it behind my back faster than humanly possible.

He rolls his eyes. “Come, I’ll give you a tour.”

The inside is… lived in. I almost expected it to look like a hotel, sterile and robotic. Instead, it’s warm. There are framed photos everywhere. He and his mom in New York, he and Josh at some baseball game, and a blurry childhood picture where he’s missing a front tooth.

Plants stand out against the neutral walls, bringing color into the space. It smells clean, but not artificially. Like him.

The main floor opens into one large space: a kitchen with marble countertops, a white center island that could host an entire football team, and a wooden dining room table. Across from it, an even bigger couch facing the TV. Floor-to-ceiling glass doors open to a balcony overlooking the hills, the city stretching far below like it belongs to him.

“What a waste of a kitchen for someone who’s never made anything other than a grilled cheese,” I say, trying desperately to get him into that bickering momentum I’m so good at.