Virtuous(16)

“No, but you have no way to know whether I’m lying to you.”

“Do you believe in instinct? Gut checks?”

“I guess. Sort of.”

“My instincts are telling me you can be trusted with that key. My gut is telling me I won’t regret sharing my bathtub with you, since I never use it, and it’s a shame to let it go to waste if it could bring you pleasure.”

Once again her cheeks flush, this time at the word “pleasure.”

“You never use that tub? Seriously?”

“I’m ashamed to confess I’ve never used it.”

“And how long have you owned this place?”

I have to think about that for a second. “It’ll be ten years in March.”

“That’s tragic.”

“What can I say? I’m a shower kind of guy.”

All at once, she seems to realize we’re having a somewhat intimate conversation within the confines of my bedroom. “Does this place have a kitchen?”

“Right this way.”

I turn on the lights in the kitchen as a smile stretches across her face. “Wow. Now I have kitchen envy, too.”

“You have the key. Feel free to use it. This is another room that gets very little attention from me, other than the fridge where you can always find a cold beer.”

“Such a guy.”

“Guilty as charged. Speaking of my utter inability to cook, I thought about hiring a woman I know who cooks for our production team whenever we’re in town to come over and make something for us tonight, but that seemed too pretentious.” I open a drawer, withdraw a stack of takeout menus and lay them out on the counter before her.

She presses two fingers to her lips, seeming to suppress a laugh.

“Are you laughing at me?” I ask her, mocking outrage.

Pinching her index finger and thumb together, she says, “Just a little.”

“That’s not very nice of you. Here I am, laying myself bare, admitting my failings, and you’re laughing at me.” I shake my head, delighted when a gurgle of laughter erupts from her, making me feel like I’ve won something precious. My stomach lets out a loud growl, which only makes her laugh harder. “Yes, I’m starving, so if you wouldn’t mind telling me what you’d like to eat, I’ll make the call.”

She rolls her lips adorably and studies the menus with the same intensity I suspect she gives everything. It’s a little unsettling to admit how much I want to be on the receiving end of that intensity.

“This,” she says, handing over the menu for a nearby Italian place that delivers.

“My favorite. What’s your pleasure?”

“Chicken piccata and a Caesar salad, please.”

I stare at her for a brief moment. “You won’t believe me when I tell you this, but that’s my regular order.”

“You’re right. I don’t believe you.”

Shaking my head in amusement, I withdraw my phone from my pocket and dial the number from memory. “This is Flynn Godfrey. Two of my regular, please.” I smile at her as I place the order. “Thanks.”

“That doesn’t prove anything, you know,” she says after I end the call.

“Yes, because I really could’ve set that up in advance.” She laughs, and I’m captivated all over again. She’s adorable and sassy and funny and easy to be with. I’m Flynn Godfrey, regular Joe, with her, and I like how that feels. I get so f*cking tired of being Flynn Godfrey, Movie Star, with other women.

“You surprise me,” she says.

I’d been reaching for wineglasses, but I stop to turn to her. She’s taken a seat at the bar that separates the living area from the kitchen. “How so?”

“I figured you’d have… people. Driving you, cooking for you, tending to you.”

“Are you disappointed that I don’t?”

“To the contrary. I’m pleasantly surprised.”

“You can’t believe everything you read, you know.” I hold up a bottle of pinot noir and another of chardonnay.

She points to the white, and I get busy uncorking it.

“I can believe some of it, though, right?”

“Very little. Most of it is utter bullshit.”

“If they print lies, why don’t you sue them?”

Shrugging, I tell her, “Because I have better uses for my time and money. If I sued over every lie they publish, that’s all I’d do.”