Page 2 of The Golden Scoop

“Well, now we know where all the nerves have gone.” Julia laughs. I widen my eyes at her in hopes she stops talking before he starts bawling.

“It’s time to go,” he says, almost out of breath. I press my lips into a thin line, holding in a laugh, and I hand Julia her bouquet.

“I love you, Jay,” I tell her, squeezing her hand before grabbing my own set of white and blush roses. “See you soon, Mrs. Harrison.”

I head to the door, dreading what’s waiting for me on the other side.

“Don’t make my best man cry!” she yells after me.

I step out, and there he is: Matt Hunt. Hollywood’s newly crowned Actor of the Year, and the living, breathing PR stunt I can’t seem to escape.

He’s in a three-piece black suit that looks disgustingly perfect. Probably custom, probably crazy expensive. A white rose is pinned onto the lapel of his jacket, matching my bouquet. His dirty blond hair, taunting me to my patience’s end, is doing that effortlessly tousled thing which probably took thirty hours and a full glam squad.

I take a deep breath before speaking. “You ready?”

Matt turns at the sound of my voice, and his eyes widen, like I’ve caught him off guard. He doesn’t say anything. He shoves his hands in his pockets and saunters over to me, that infuriating half-smirk tugging at his lips. His gaze roams freely from head to toes. I want to tell him off, but with every inch he closes, his cologne becomes more intoxicating.

“That’s enough,” I manage, taking a step back.

Get a grip, Emma, I think to myself. Matt always has this effect on me, and I hate it.

“What’s wrong, Mills?” he teases, voice low. “You can’t handle having me this close?”

“Maybe if you’d worn less perfume, I’d be able to make it down the aisle without holding my breath,” I snap. He smells like leather and spice. Confidence to his core. It’s so very him it makes my skin prickle. “And don’t call me Mills. We’re not friends.”

“Always so hostile, Ms. Miller. And here I was going to compliment you on how… unexpected you look today,” he says, with a weird frown. The processional music starts playing behind the wooden doors. “But you’re right, we’re not friends. We’re each other’s date, so let’s start acting like it before these doors open.”

I drag my hands down my dress. I had a feeling I looked out of my comfort zone, and his comment confirms it. I knew this dress was too much. The champagne-gold silk is all shine and look-at-me energy—which is exactly what I don’t want in events like these. The last time I wore something this fancy, it was covered by my graduation gown.

“Unexpected…” I repeat, that stupid word stuck in my head like a radio jingle. “You better practice your compliment game before you try laying it on the guests tonight.”

I hook my arm roughly around his, and, of course, he doesn’t even flinch. He turns to me, about to say something, but the doors pull open before he can get a word out.

“Put on that fake charming smile you’ve mastered and keep quiet before I hurt you. I don’t want to get yelled at by Harrison,” I mutter through clenched teeth, the corners of my mouth fixed in a wedding-perfect grin.

We start down the aisle, throwing polite little waves to all the staring faces. Our steps in perfect unison, as if we’d practiced it—we didn’t, because we got in an argument right at the beginning of the wedding rehearsal, and Julia benched us for the rest of the night.

“Quit acting like a tough cookie,” he whispers back, crawling under my skin. “It doesn’t suit you. Especially when you’re wearing such a provocative dress.”

Matt stretches out the word, each syllable hitting like a challenge. He knows which buttons to push to make me angry but today is not about us. I almost wish we’d called a truce. Too bad we didn’t.

I squeeze his arm as hard as I can, fully intending on leaving a mark, but all it earns me is his gaze, steady and amused, now locked on mine. “If you want to feel me up so badly,” Matt says, “I know a place. We can meet after the ceremony.”

“Sounds perfect,” I hiss, tightening my grip around the bouquet until stems creak. “I’ll bring all my torture tools.”

His mouth twitches, the bite of his bottom lip betraying him. We don’t laugh at each other’s jokes, so before he can get another smart-ass word in, I drop his arm and take my place on the opposite side of the altar.

One minute and four seconds. That’s how long I’ve been shooting death glares at Matt without blinking. He’s teasing me, charming everyone with that Hollywood smile and perfectly luminous hair. Even Julia’s attention isn’t spared. He’s spinning some obviously fake story about volunteering at a dog shelter, where a puppy apparently chewed off his shoelaces.

“So… I’m thinking about going back and adopting him,” he tells Harrison. The half-moon table puts him squarely in my line of vision.

I scoff, and all three heads swivel toward me. “Like you’d ever be able to take care of a dog. You can’t even do your own laundry, Matt.”

Julia laughs.

“Emma!” She’s clearly amused. “You literally killed all of my plants.”

“That’s different!” I snap, almost offended. “Whose team are you on, anyway?”