LOL: Laugh Out Loud (After Oscar, #2)(17)

I lifted my eyebrows incredulously. “Hey? What about, ‘Hi, Roman, let me explain why you don’t want to press charges for stalking and trespassing.’?”

I was being harsher than I meant to be, but I was just surprised. Scotty wasn’t supposed to be here. In fact, he’d specifically rejected the idea of coming with me. So what had changed? Being a celebrity had made me wary of people who popped up unexpectedly. I’d heard horror stories from friends about fan situations turning real bad real fast.

Still, I couldn’t keep my heart from hammering with excitement at the sight of him. Scotty was here! Fun and sassy, fiery and sexy as hell.

His eyes dropped to the ground where he used the toe of his boot to push a stray piece of hay out of the way. “Um. Yeah, about that…”

I crossed my arms, waiting.

“You see, I was at the library, right? And, um, I was applying for some jobs. Which, let’s be honest, isn’t fucking easy when you have no address to put down on the application. And how fair is that?” he asked, waving a hand through the air. “I mean, really. Do you know that the New York Coalition for the—”

“Focus, Scotty,” I reminded him.

“Right, well, anyway, I didn’t realize how much time had passed, and when I reached down to grab my backpack…” He trailed off.

My stomach dropped. I saw where this was probably going.

He lifted a shoulder. “Someone had taken off with it.”

“Shit,” I told him. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, so was I.” He winced. “Especially since that’s where I’d put all the money you’d given me.”

“Did you call the police?” I asked him. “Alert the security people at the library to check the cameras?”

Scotty looked at me like I was an idiot. “Of course I did. And guess what? It turns out that they wanted an address for me too. Imagine that.”

“So what did you tell them?”

He cleared his throat and looked at the floor, the stall door, the ceiling. Anywhere but at me.

“Scotty.”

He let out a sigh that sounded more like a huff. “I told them I was staying with you.”

“Here?” I asked incredulously, noticing Nugget approach out of the corner of my eye. She no longer held my hat in her mouth.

He rolled his eyes. “No, dumbass. I gave them your brownstone address. One of them felt sorry for me and offered to give me a lift home, and I couldn’t say no without looking suspicious. And when he dropped me off, I saw them loading Nugget onto the trailer, and at that point I had nowhere to go and no fucking money, and the thought of having to stand there while my horse was taken away just broke me.”

Nugget rested her chin on the top of Scotty’s head, and the man didn’t even seem to notice. His hand came up automatically to scratch at her chest while he spoke.

“So, I… uh… hopped in.”

I stared at him. There were so many questions, I didn’t even know where to start.

Before I could say anything, Scotty held up a hand and said, “And before you tell me how stupid I am, I know that already, okay? Don’t forget this homeless shit is new to me. Up until last night I had a place to stay, even if it was only a fucking horse stall in a stable for the last few nights.”

As he got more and more defensive, his cheeks flushed and his eyes widened. I could see the fear close under the surface of his bluster, and I remembered how he’d tried to distract me from his problems this morning through humor and jokes. He didn’t like being vulnerable. Didn’t like asking for help. Yet here he was.

“Why didn’t you come up to the house?” I asked him.

Scotty shrugged, looking down and toeing the same piece of hay.

“Or say anything when I was talking to Nugget?”

He shrugged again and it almost broke my heart. Did he not think he deserved better than camping out in a stall? Especially when I had that massive estate all to myself. All he’d have had to do was knock on the door and I’d have welcomed him in instantly. Happily.

Eagerly.

Then a thought occurred to me. Maybe that was the problem. “Is it me? Is that why you didn’t want to come up here initially or why you stayed hidden when I came out here? Because you don’t like me or—”

He started laughing. Like honest to Jesus, hands on his knees because he couldn’t stay standing guffawing. “Oh my god, seriously?” Scotty asked, wheezing as he tried to catch his breath. Finally he straightened and wiped at an eye, still chuckling. “You’re funny, you know that? You should star in more comedies. Something like Clueless meets Mean Girls. But gay. Super gay.”

I frowned. I still wasn’t sure what he’d been laughing at. “That sounds like a terrible movie.”

“It would kill at the box office,” he said seriously. “Trust me.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Scotty cut me off with a hand in the air. “And also, just to get back on topic, per your earlier question, no, I can unequivocally say that me not announcing my presence had absolutely nothing to do with my feelings for you.” He paused and tilted his head to the side as if reconsidering.

“Well, maybe it did a little,” he amended. “But only because I didn’t want to disappoint you.”