shit. I don’t have to take this. “You know what? I think I’ll call an Uber. You can just go.”
I open the truck’s door and look down. It would be great if I could just bounce out of this thing with a huff and storm off, but I’m not that graceful. I’m not graceful at all, and I don’t want to end up on my ass. I stick my right leg out and plant it firmly on the gravel drive before letting my left follow.
I grab the edge of the door and brace to swing it closed.
“Wait.”
I freeze and then glare up at him. “What?”
“You don’t need to call an Uber.” He’s still frowning. He may be handsome, but everything about him is hard edges and cold vibes.
“I think I do.”
I step back to close the door—and did he just roll his eyes at me?
“Is it really that big of a deal?” he asks.
“Excuse me?” Now I’m frowning. What the hell is he talking about?
“Is it that big of a deal that I asked about your drug use?”
My nostrils flare. “I’m not on drugs.”
“Or your drinking,” he adds, shrugging like it doesn’t matter.
My eyes nearly launch from their sockets. Hello? Alcohol is the worst kind of carb according to Moira. Who needs booze bloat? I can’t remember the last time I had a drink. The only thing I swallow that’s fermented is kombucha and then just four ounces a day.
“I’m not drunk either,” I hiss. I am, however, ready to claw this guy’s face off.
He shakes his head. “Look, it’s really none of my business, and I won’t tell any paparazzi if that’s what you’re worried about.”
I bark a disgusted laugh. “I’m not worried about anything. I’m offended because you are being so rude, and I’m shocked that such an asshole could be related to Mr. Hebert.”
He laughs too, but instead of sounding disgusted, he seems surprised. “Wow. You really do have him fooled,” he says, so low I almost miss it.
Enough. That’s enough.
I slam the door shut and stomp back toward the studio, pulling out my phone as I do. The sun is beginning to set, and although Lafayette seems like a nice town, it’s easy to tell downtown isn’t the safest part of it. I’ll wait for my Uber out of plain sight.
But when I’m halfway to the porch, I hear Beau Landry open his door behind me.
“Where are you going?”
I spin around and come to a halt. I know better than to walk backward. Walking backward and I do not mix.
“I’m calling an Uber. Like I said.” I cross my arms with no small amount of attitude. “What’s the matter? Can’t you remember that? Are you high?”
His eyes narrow, but even with his tidy beard, I can see he’s smiling. He’s trying not to, but it’s there.
“Maybe I deserved that,” he acknowledges with a dip of his chin.
“Hmph. Going from judgy to humble in less than a minute?” I cock one hip and tap my chin with an index finger. “Sounds like mood swings. Are you drunk?”
He arches a dark brow, and, damn, I’ve seen headshots of leading co-stars that didn’t look half that hot.
Bastard.
Beau Landry puts up his hands in surrender. “Sorry. I offended you. I apologize,” he says, still smiling, so I doubt he means it. “You don’t have to call an Uber.”
I’ve already opened the app. I look down at all the icons for potential rides. I won’t have to wait long at all.
He steps out of his truck and stands beside it, his smile fading. “I really don’t mind driving you.”
I consider forgiving him. Giving in and riding with him. But that seems risky. He’s already shown me—quite clearly—who he is. A jerk.
Well, I don’t need to spend any more time than I have to with jerks. I type in the destination and confirm my ride.
“I’m good.”
Chapter Six
BEAU
Nonc has lost his mind if he thinks Iris Adams isn’t a drama queen.
She trips my uncle and then makes it all about her. She can’t frickin’ drive herself. She throws her money around. And then she storms off the minute I ask if she’s impaired—which she clearly is. She may not be not slurring her words, but I’m not convinced she could walk a straight line if she can’t climb into a truck.
And she still insisted on taking an Uber even after I apologized. Fine. But I’m not leaving until it gets here. I won’t leave her to wait alone.