Page 10 of How to Kiss a Movie Star
“Huh. Look at that,” he says. “I’ve never seen a white squirrel before.”
I smile wide, elation filling my chest.
I got it.I got the picture. It would have been better had I been able to track the squirrel for a while, figure out where he’s nesting, but a photograph is a good start.
The man looks up and startles the slightest bit, his eyes dropping to my smile, which I quickly shift into something less enthusiastic. I might as well wear a T-shirt that says,Please ignore me. I’m too weird for regular human interaction.
He’s still looking at me, though.Staringat me, even. My system must still be dealing with some sort of adrenaline flood because it almost feels like there’s a weird kind of energy sparking between us.
I brush the impression aside—I am stronger than the chemicals inside my brain—and clear my throat. “White squirrels don’t typically live around here,” I say, sounding more professorial than I would like, but it’s my default mode, and in the present circumstance, it’s all I’m capable of. “That’s why I was tracking him. I did my PhD research on the migratory patterns of—” My sisters’ threats echo in my brain, and my words trail off. What do they always say I should do? Dumb things down for regular people? “What I mean is, white squirrels aren’t typically native to Polk County. The fact that they’re here is new. And a big deal.”
He lifts an eyebrow like I’ve said something to amuse him. “Is it?” he says through an easy grin.
I shrug. “A big deal tome.”
He hands me the camera, our hands brushing in a way that makes my skin tingle. I rub at the back of my hand like I can wipe away the sensation, and the man eyes me curiously before taking a giant step back and pushing his own hands into his pockets.
He looks at his security guard, a question in his eyes. It’s clear they’re having some kind of wordless conversation, because eventually, the security guard shakes his head, and the other man nods, his expression resigned.
“Just the same, thisisprivate property,” he says. “I can’t have you wandering around my woods.” He looks to the sheriff’s deputies. “Could you give her a ride back to…wherever she came from?”
The younger deputy nods. “Absolutely, Flint. Consider it done.”
The deputy sounds like an overeager puppy, hoping to please, corroborating my belief that this man is someone famous. Also, his name isFlint.If that doesn’t sound like the name of a star in one of my sister Lucy’s romantic comedies, I don’t know what does.
“Wait,” I say, stepping forward. I reach for Flint’s arm, which immediately has the security guy stepping toward us both like he’s prepared to toss me over his shoulder like a ragdoll if that’s what it takes to protect his boss. Not thatFlintlooks like he needs protecting, based on his own obvious (and very impressive) upper body strength.
I hold both my hands up, taking a step away. “Sorry. I just—if I’m only looking for squirrels,” I say. “Taking pictures ofonlysquirrels. Can I come back? I swear, I won’t take pictures of anything else. And I’ll stay in the woods, far away from the house.”
Flint studies me, his arms folded over his chest. He takes a step forward, his eyes trained on me, and suddenly it feels like we’re the only two people on the planet. His security guard is looming not three feet away, but he is nothing but a blurry blob in the background of whatever this moment is. “What’s your name?” Flint says softly.
I swallow and clear my throat. “Audrey,” I croak out.
“Nice to meet you, Audrey,” he says smoothly. “I’m Flint.” He holds out his hand, and I slip my palm into his. I cringe when I notice the dirt staining my fingers, lining the beds of my nails, but his hands are just as dirty as mine—like he’s been digging in the dirt all afternoon. Something about this makes me like him—notable because I don’t generally like people at all. But if heisbig and famous and important—and I’m beginning to sense that he must be—I like that he’s not above doing his own yard work. “This is Nate,” he says, gesturing to the giant behind us. “He’s head of my security team.”
“I gathered,” I say simply.
“I believe you’re a scientist, Audrey,” Flint says, before letting out a light chuckle. “You look like a scientist.”
I’m not sure if I should take this as an insult. Iama scientist, so I suppose I ought to look like one, but something tells me my sisters would not take the remark as a compliment. Regardless, I’m pretty sure Flint is about to cave and let me come back. He can insult me all he wants if it means I get to find my squirrels.
“Flint, it’s not a good idea,” Nate says, and my jaw tightens.
It IS a good idea, Flint. It really, really is.
“I promise I’m harmless,” I say, my eyes pleading.
He holds my gaze for a long moment, then slowly shakes his head. “I wish I could make an exception, but I take my privacy very seriously. My property is off-limits.”
“But the squirrels—” I start to argue. My words cut off when Nate steps in front of me, blocking my view of Flint. Blocking my view ofeverything. Geez,I didn’t know humans could even BE this big.
“It was nice to meet you, Audrey,” Flint says from behind the brick wall of a man now blocking my view. “Good luck with your research.”
I almost ask him about the loneliness he mentioned earlier, about the implication that he’d like to spend some time with me. If I were a different woman, one well-versed in playing the games that men and women play, I might. Instead, I yell out, “There won’tbeany research if I have to stay off your property.”
Flint doesn’t even turn around.
“Time to go, ma’am,” the younger deputy says. “I assume you’ve got a car parked out here somewhere?”
