LOL: Laugh Out Loud (After Oscar, #2)(7)

And Nugget.

After many minutes of sustained attack upon the entry to Roman Burke’s residence, the door finally opened, revealing the man himself in all of his gorgeous, albeit angry, glory.

So… so much glory. He was tall. So tall. And had thick, bed-rumpled dark hair that begged for my fingers. And there were… muscles and… stuff.

I sighed and reminded myself I was here on a mission.

“What… what’s happening?” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes over dark, delicious stubble. He stood in the entry in low-hanging pajama pants and absolutely nothing else. Which was unfortunate, because it meant I had to spend a good two or three minutes just gawping and drooling before I could give him what for.

When he finally seemed awake enough to recognize me, his eyes widened. “You.”

“Yeah, me. I’ve come to bring you a horse,” I said as assertively as I could. “Asshole,” I added under my breath, because, c’mon. It was needed, if only to remind me why I was there.

He blinked.

I flapped my arms toward Nugget. “A horse! That horse. You know, the one you completely fucked over when you went on your merry chase through the city? The poor girl who was nothing but an innocent pawn in your game. The mare who’s been maligned by the press as a—”

He held up a hand. “I get it.” His eyes darted to the photographers, who’d stirred and begun snapping pictures. “Do you think maybe you could keep your voice down?”

The nerve of this man. “No. I cannot,” I said, raising my voice instead. Just to be ornery because Roman Burke deserved it. “Thanks to you and your little jaunt, Nugget and I are homeless. I can handle it, but she can’t. She needs a roof over her head and decent feed. If she gets caught roaming the streets, they’re going to take her away from me and do god only knows what to her.”

Roman winced and blinked again. “I think maybe I haven’t had any coffee yet?”

I hopped down the steps, untied Nugget, and led her back up the stairs to the double doors. My every movement was followed by a riot of camera shutters snapping around me like the jaws of hungry crocodiles. I ignored them. I’d gotten good at it after a few of the paparazzi had tried following me for a few days after the fake-cop joyride incident.

I reached the top of the stairs, horse in tow. “Then let’s get you some coffee. Move out of the way.” I shouldered past him, opening up the second part of the double door and leading Nugget through it. The floor of the entry hall had a nice, glossy tile which assured me the movie star’s household staff wouldn’t have a difficult time cleaning up Nugget’s indiscretions.

“Where’s the coffee maker?” I asked over my shoulder. When there was no answer, I looked back and found Roman staring at the back end of Nugget.

“Is… is there a horse in my house?”

“She’s very well mannered. Don’t worry about it.”

“I… but… I don’t think there’s supposed to be—”

I cut him off. “I said don’t worry about it.”

“But the paparazzi.” He ran a hand down his face. “They just saw—”

The man really needed to focus. I snapped my fingers, hoping to break him out of it. “They saw a polite man invite a guest in for coffee.”

His brows furrowed. “I’m not sure they’d agree with that characterization.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. It was either let us in or have this conversation in front of the tabloid press. I assume the horse in the house is the lesser of two evils, yes? Now, where’s the coffee?”

He thought that through for a moment, ultimately coming to the same conclusion. “Right, in the kitchen,” he said. I stared at him, indicating that his response had not been helpful. “Oh, um. Upstairs on the next floor,” he added. His eyes slid to Nugget again. “But surely she can’t join us.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. She doesn’t even like coffee. You don’t happen to have a terrace out back or a fenced-in… yard or anything, do you?”

Roman looked around as if the answer was hanging next to one of the landscape paintings on his perfectly styled wall. “Um… no? I mean, there’s a small patio, but it’s…” He blew out a breath and raked a hand through his messy hair, revealing dark armpit hair that wanted to be sniffed and licked by… people. “It’s open to the street right now because the paparazzi pulled part of the fence down last week.”

I shook myself out of the stupor. “Is that how they caught that photo of Polly on your couch?”

He crooked an eyebrow, a slow grin starting to tilt his lips. “You been reading the news about me?”

Yes. But he didn’t need to know that. I lifted a shoulder dismissively, hoping he didn’t notice the flush heating my cheeks. “It was on every newsstand. Impossible to live in this city and not see it.”

It was time to change the subject. “If the patio’s off-limits, we’ll just let Nugget hang out here for now.” I shrugged and let my overstuffed backpack drop to the ground, before gesturing toward the stairs. “Lead the way to the kitchen.”

Roman reluctantly started making his way around the edges of the foyer, keeping his body facing Nugget as if the horse might suddenly turn feral and bite him on the ass.