Page 17 of The Golden Scoop

“Can you not afford doors?”

“Can you not afford a brain?” I bark back.

He’s holding two coffee cups, one in each hand, which he ends up stacking on top of each other so he can offer me his free hand. Luckily for me, I’m perfectly capable of getting out of my own car without help. The less physical contact, the better.

I hop out, notebook and pen ready to go, and he huffs. As if he’s annoyed I don’t need a man to hold my hand.

He leads the way, and I follow beside him. From the corner of my eye, I see him turn to me. He extends one of the coffees.

“What’s that?” I ask, stepping away. “Are you trying to poison me?”

“I assumed you’d need a caffeine boost sooner than later.”

I take it, still wary. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s messed with my drink.

“Why?”

“It’s called trying to be nice,” he deadpans. “You should try it sometime.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” I say with a fake grin.

I bring the cup up to my lips and take a small sip.

The second I taste the golden-brown liquid, my eyes widen with shock.

It’s perfect.

Our steps stay in sync, but his stare doesn’t leave my face. I can feel it.

And if I meet his eyes, I’m going to have to admit that he was right about not one, but two things: I needed coffee, and he managed to replicate my regular order.

I keep quiet, but of course he can’t help himself.

“You’re welcome, honey.”

I grumble into my cup, refusing to acknowledge him, that pet name, or the way it’s inconveniently clouding my hate for him.

First stop is hair and makeup. Inside the trailer, he’s immediately surrounded by a whole team of artists that force him down into a chair.

“You must be Emma, the journalist,” says an older woman, probably in her mid-fifties, radiating strong mom energy. “I’m Luna. And these are Riley and Benjamin.”

Riley is gorgeous. Long brunette hair, big brown eyes. She gives me a friendly wave before deep diving into Matt’s foundation.

Benjamin walks over to me, taking me by surprise when he leans down to kiss both of my cheeks. “You can call me Ben. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Hey, hey,” says Matt, trying but failing to turn toward us while Luna holds him still. “Let’s keep our lips to ourselves, Benny.”

“I thought you weren’t the jealous type, Matthew,” I tease.

“He is with you,” Ben says, taking my hand and dragging me to a sofa behind Matt. “He won’t shut up about you. Poor man was so upset after the wedding.”

“Only bad things, I bet. Don’t believe a word he says.”

“Ben,” Matt warns, which only makes him laugh.

“Relax. I don’t swing that way,” Ben answers. “And besides, that’s how we greet people in Spain.”

“You’re Spanish?”