Page 30 of How to Kiss a Movie Star
“Are you kidding? I was up against Matt Damon. I know it’s what everyone says, but it really was just an honor to be nominated with someone like him.”
I wrinkle my brow, hoping the name will jog something in my memory, but I’ve got nothing.
Flint frowns. “You don’t know who Matt Damon is, do you?”
I grimace.
“Good Will Hunting?” he says. “Audrey, come on. It’s one of the greatest movies of all time.”
“I’m sorry!” I say through a laugh, and I really mean it. Could I possibly make myself any less interesting to this man? “Is that one I should watch?Good Will Hunting?”
“I mean, yes,” he says quickly. “Everyone should watch that one. But…” He holds up a finger. “Not yet. I want to be more intentional when it comes to you.”
My heart trips and stutters. He wants to be intentionalfor me?He’s taking this whole movie thing much more seriously than I thought he would.
An image of me and Flint, snuggled up on the butter-soft couch in his living room watching a movie, suddenly pops into my brain, and my cheeks flush with heat.
I spin around, not wanting Flint to see, and press my palms to my cheeks. “What about this one?” I say, motioning to the next poster. “Should I start with this one?”
He’s close to me when he responds, his voice just over my shoulder, and it sends another wave of goosebumps across my neck. “Not this one,” he says, his voice low. “None of these, actually. To convince the woman who doesn’t like movies to like movies? We have to go bigger than anything I’ve ever done.”
It occurs to me that knowing Flint isina movie might make me a lot more interested in sitting down to watch it.
But I’m not about to admit that to him.
I’m not sure I even want to admit it to myself.
I turn around, startling when I realize how close we’re standing. There isn’t six inches of space between us. I’m close enough to touch him—to lift my palm and press it against his chest.
Instead, I tuck my hands behind my back, just in case they get any ideas, and force a deep breath through my nose. “Bigger like what?”
Flint lifts his hands and wraps them around my shoulders, his fingers brushing along the hem of my sleeves. The skin-to-skin contact makes my heart rate spike even more than it already has, and my breath catches in my throat.
“Patience, Audrey,” he says. “I’ll find the perfect movie for you. But this isn’t a process you can rush.” He gives my arms a quick squeeze before his hands fall away.
Oh, he’s good. Too good.No wonder all of America is in love with this man.
“Come on,” he says, taking a step toward the door. “There’s ice cream pie, and I’m not sure my brothers will save us any if we don’t grab a piece while we can.”
“Oh, I couldn’t,” I say quickly. “You’ve already been so generous. I don’t need anyone to save me a piece of anything.”
He shrugs. “Suit yourself. But you’re here. And it’sreallygood ice cream pie.” He holds out his hand in invitation. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want you to have a piece.”
I shake my head and slip my hand into his, letting him tug me into the kitchen. He doesn’t drop my hand until we’re halfway around the enormous kitchen island. “Is this how you treat everyone who trespasses on your land?”
“Only the biologists.” He smirks and glances at my shirt. “Even if you do want me toleaf you alone.”
I smile, my gaze lifting to his blue eyes, which are sparkling with mirth. I shake my head, letting out a small laugh as I look down at my navy-blue T-shirt. There’s a leafy sugar maple on the front and the very caption Flint just read:Leaf Me Alone.
Ninety-nine percent of the time, Idoprefer to be left alone. I am nothing if not a solitary creature.
But maybe company isn’t so bad.
Even if that company is a movie star.
Chapter Eight
Flint
