Page 5 of The Golden Scoop

“What?” I mouth.

He shakes his head, takes her hand and gives her a playful spin. She throws her head back in laughter, fake eyelashes batting so hard they might take flight. The blonde heads toward the dance floor, dragging him along.

I see my chance, and I take it. As he passes by, I discreetly stretch my leg out in his direction. He trips, nearly taking the girl down with him, but sadly manages to catch himself before epically face-planting.

He looks back at me, and I shrug.

“Emma!” Julia scolds.

“Rule number one,” I say, lifting my still-poisoned glass. “Don’t dish it if you can’t take it.”

A couple of minutes later, the DJ lowers the lights, and Julia and Harrison make their way to the center of the room.

“Now, let’s give it up for our newlyweds’ first dance!”

The opening notes of Make You Feel My Love drift through the speakers, and as they sway in unison, a soft hush falls over the crowd.

I’m about to steal a sip of Julia’s drink when a voice chirps beside me, “You two!” The photographer appears out of nowhere, catching Matt as he’s about to sit down.

“I need at least one shot of the wedding party.”

I blink. “Oh—uh, we’re good.”

“It was requested by the bride and groom,” she insists.

“Come on, Mills,” Matt says, coming over with a smirk. “Don’t make it weird.”

“I’m not making it weird,” I argue, but I stand anyway. “Be quick.”

He slides his arm around my waist, and I instantly stiffen. His fingers are barely touching me, but my brains seem to take this contact and flies with it. The way my pulse spikes is, unfortunately, less about how long it’s been since I’ve had manly contact and more about the man itself.

“Closer,” she says, waving her hand. “Lean into him.”

I huff and do as she says, enough to hide my arm behind him. She snaps a photo, checks the screen, and frowns.

“This won’t do. Could you please act like you like him for about ten seconds? Put your arm on his chest or something.”

The first dance is winding down—our cue to join them on the dance floor—so I do as I’m told, hoping to end this fast. I turn sideways, wrapping one arm around him and resting the other against his chest.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Matt whispers, his breath brushing my ear as flashes pop around us.

“Says the guy who made up half his speech,” I mutter.

He frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, come on,” I say. “You really expect me to believe you wrote that?”

His jaw tightens. “You’re willing to stoop that low? What, mad I did your job better than you, writer girl?”

“I’m an editor, Matt.”

He scoffs, but his eyes flicker with something I can’t name. “Let’s go; they’re waiting for us.”

I follow him onto the dance floor, though the last thing I want to do is dance. We sway with the music, and I keep my gaze on anything but him. Still, I can’t shake how… hurt he looked when I said that.

When I finally glance up, he’s already watching me.

“Look, I’m sorry,” I find myself saying. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”