America's Geekheart (Bro Code #2)(30)

I never meant to go into modeling and fashion, but it found me, and I apparently have an eye for it—or something—so I keep hiring the right people to help make me look good, and here I am.

She pauses the game and turns to look at me. “I’m only doing this for the giraffes.”

“Why giraffes?”

“Because they really put their necks out there.”

Now I’m choking on a surprised laugh. “Dad joke supreme, right there.”

She pops another smile, and my dick sits up and takes notice. I tell it to pipe down, because dating in the spotlight is hard enough without adding real attraction to the mix.

Plus, I’m a relatively bad judge of who wants me for me, and who wants to take advantage of me.

I want to trust her—she’s pretty upfront about what she wants, but she’s also a daughter of Hollywood. She knows how these games work.

“Seriously,” I push. “Why giraffes?”

Those big brown eyes watch me warily, and I think she’s going to blow me off when she says softly, “They’re awkward and weird and still beautiful just the way they are. It’s inspiring.”

I’m not overly familiar with that tight heat cramping my lungs, but I think it might be my heart cracking a little at the implication that she only sees herself as awkward and weird.

Yeah.

I think I have it bad, whether I like it or not.

She shakes her head. “Anyway. I want a contract.”

“With a non-disclosure,” I agree, letting it go. Because much as she’s growing on me, I’m not the guy she needs to point out that she’s beautiful in her own way too.

I come with everything she’s worked so hard to get away from, and if there’s one other thing I’ve learned the last fifteen years, it’s that if something sounds too good to be true, it probably is.

“The NDA was understood,” she says.

“We’ll have to go out in public a few times, and my team’s already working on finding any public charity event that’ll sell me a ticket for some good publicity. If it happens in the next two weeks, they’ll want you to go. If they can’t find anything, knowing Charlie, she’ll create something.”

She slides me an unreadable look. “Nice. Blame your team.”

“Blame? Nah, I’m giving them credit. It’s a great idea.”

“It’s a terrible idea.”

I cup her cheeks in my hands, because she’s there, and her skin is so soft and smooth, and if we’re going to pull this off, we are going to have to touch.

Her eyes go wide and connect with mine, and I really hope she’s not packing that taser right now, because I can’t protect the jewels from this angle.

“Trust me?” I say quietly.

“You’re the reason we’re in this mess.”

I’m grinning again, because there aren’t many people in the world outside my family, my lifelong friends, and my assistant who will flat-out call me on my bullshit, and I like that Sarah’s not afraid to.

“This is far from the worst mess I’ve ever had to get out of.”

One full eyebrow lifts.

“Ask Levi sometime about the elephant in Delhi.”

“You know elephants are endangered too?”

“Yeah, that’s why we saved its life. Cost a shit-ton to cover it up and get the elephant a new home, but he’s a pretty happy guy in an animal sanctuary now.”

Her eyes flare wide. “You saved an elephant?”

I could pull out pictures, but that feels like overkill. “Point is, we’ve got this. Okay? And if your life isn’t back to normal in six months, I’ll hop on Twitter and start a war with Chrissy Teigen just to distract everyone. Cross my heart.”

“You saved an elephant.”

Shit. She’s looking at me like I’m some kind of hero. I drop my hands and stand, moving the bar stool back against the wall. I put it in here yesterday so Tucker could reach the controls. “Just the one time. And I almost got the whole band tossed in an Indian jail for it. Like the time I got caught pissing behind a bar in Berlin. But in my defense, I couldn’t even walk in the men’s room without getting asked for my autograph. I just wanted to take a leak in private.”

“Thank you.”

I shrug modestly and intentionally misunderstand her. “Always happy to set a good example when it comes to taking a piss. I’m not always a fuck-up. You want some pizza?”

She studies me for a second, then a small smile tips her lips up. “Careful, or you won’t fit into your tighty-whities next week.”

“That’s why I’m branching out into tracksuits next.”

She smiles, and once again, I smile back.

Can’t help it.

Smiles are contagious.

Especially when I have to fight this hard to earn them.





Fifteen





Sarah



As expected, Monday is a disaster at work.

On a normal Monday, everyone’s grumpy and slow and they all pair off to talk to their normal Monday morning gossip buddies about the weekend, the Fireballs—or Thrusters in the winter—a concert or whatever they’re binging on Netflix or someone’s kids’ activities.