Page 47 of The Golden Scoop

“I’m working.”

“You were doing that yesterday.”

I snap the laptop shut. He needs to believe I still despise him. Maybe that way he’ll stop trying to charm my pants off. Which, to be honest, is alarmingly effective.

“Yeah. And look where that got me,” I bite back. “Headfirst into the ocean fully clothed.”

“You were laughing.”

I was. I loved it. I’ve enjoyed every single thing he’s planned. Yes, hiking included. They’ve been better than any real dates I’ve been on lately. But I can’t admit that out loud, even less to him.

“You scared me,” I try.

“Bullshit,” he calls, confidence steaming off every pore. “You liked it. You had fun.”

“It’s my job,” I answer, knowing he’s not going to like what comes next. “Yours is to pretend you’re someone you’re not. Mine is to make sure my subject stays compliant.”

The words come out sharper than I intend. But I don’t take it back.

Not a complete lie. Despite my articles being anonymous, I’ve done enough journalism to know unhappy people are less inclined to help. The more harmless the better.

“I wasn’t pretending yesterday.”

Matt steps closer, places both hands on the armrests of the chair, and leans toward me. He smells deliciously masculine. I’m transported back to his bedroom, the epicenter of his signature scent, and I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be in his bed, wrapped in sheets that scream his name.

The creak of the wood under his weight brings me back into focus, straight into his gaze.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” he says. I’m completely hypnotized by the way his lashes lower, slow and deliberate with every blink, clearly savoring this moment. “This whole tough cookie act. Trying to get me to fight with you, getting me fired up. It won’t work anymore. At least not in the way you want.”

He licks his lips.

Resist, resist, resist, I beg myself.

No can do, says my brain, traitorously dropping my eyes to his mouth, now curved into a dangerous smirk.

With that, he pushes off, and returns to work, as if he hadn’t managed to make me hot and flustered in a matter of minutes—with words.

Well… fuck.

Not a single flaw in his performance. He’s the guy who’s supporting everyone around him, acting like a dork to make people laugh, and not once has he gotten frustrated when one of his co-stars messes up the take. Not even a flicker.

Totally my type. The realization that I’m in awe of Matt’s personality even more than his physique is mind-boggling.

Except when he’s not around to send my nervous system into overdrive, it becomes clear why I should stay away. I no longer think he’s lying, but I still can’t trust someone like him. He’s lived in that playboy role for too long, who knows how much of it stuck?

Add to that our constant bickering. Probably the best sex of your life, and the worst breakup when it happens. Because it will. It always does.

Matt’s not the first one to tell me I’m too much. I learned my lesson with my cousin. Don’t get attached, not even to family. The only exceptions are my parents, my sister, and Julia.

It’s almost lunchtime, and I was certain I’d made a solid dent in my draft. Upon re-reading, I notice I’ve let my heart bleed more onto the page than my head. I backspace and get rid of half of it. All I can think of are his hands over mine on the wheel, the way he’d jumped, how he said my name when we were about to⁠—

It’s getting too personal. My head’s not in the game anymore.

Unless I manage to put some real distance between me and Matt, there’s no way I’m going to be able to remain objective with this article. I’m putting my deal and my heart at risk. And I don’t do that.

We need boundaries. And we need to stick to them. No more outings. No more anything that can lead to what happened on the boat.

Matt’s decided subtlety is overrated. He drops onto the chair in front of me with a salad so green it makes me question my life choices—and my sandwich.