once more, but I nod, and once the embarrassing coughing fit passes, I meet his piercingly gray-blue eyes—seeing their color is strikingly unavoidable now—and I offer a halfhearted smile.
“Sorry,” I apologize. I didn’t mean to drag him into an impromptu SNL sketch where I choke on spit and say ridiculously inappropriate, off-the-wall things. “I guess you could say I’m a little nervous.”
His responding smile gleams so bright, I have to wonder if he has an endorsement deal with Crest toothpaste. His mouth would make a dental hygienist get on their hands and knees and thank the Lord above.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. There’s no need to be nervous around me,” he responds, punctuating his words with a wink.
If my mind were a screenplay, the nerves would be exiting stage left.
Did he seriously just wink at me after assuming that I’m nervous to be in his presence?
Surely, I’m hearing this wrong. No one is that obsessed with themselves…right?
“Excuse me?” I ask, and his megawatt smile is still ever-present.
“If you’d like me to sign an autograph or take a selfie with you,” he enunciates slowly, as if my being able to understand him clearly was the problem. “I can probably sneak that in before I have to head in there.”
His autograph? You have got to be kidding me. He sure is a cocky bastard—and for the first time today, I’m not even talking about his dick.
Like the tip of a match being swiped across the edge of a matchbook, aggravation bursts into my veins.
“I’m here for an audition,” I assert.
Unfazed, he quirks a brow as if to say, my invitation for an autograph still stands.
Attractive or not, this guy is one of the biggest asses I’ve ever been around.
“I’m Birdie Harris. I’m auditioning for the role of Arizona Lee.”
And I’ll be damned if I’m not gonna land this acting gig just to spite this prick.
Andrew
Fantastic legs make me a weak man—and they always but always get me in trouble.
Fuck me. Birdie Harris and her gorgeous legs are definitely going to get me in trouble.
Now, I remember who she is.
Now, Luca’s text about being nice to his sister-in-law is ringing all sorts of bells—alarm bells, to be specific—and all the details of today’s meeting that Howie was rambling on about the other day come rushing back.
Howie has a penchant for rambling, and I can only find the strength to listen to about half of what he says, but this, I actually do remember.
“Birdie Harris is my Arizona Lee,” he’d said. “She’ll make Grass Roots what it needs to be, so don’t be a prick at her audition.”
I’d argued, of course, that I’m never a prick, but the words sounded hollow even to my own ears. I am an instigator—a pusher of buttons—and I love playing with sexy women the most.
“Make her feel comfortable, for fuck’s sake, so she can show William Capo and Serena why I’m so sure about her.”
Yikes. Making her comfortable has not exactly been my goal up until now.
But it’s not entirely my fault. Her little dress with ruffles and lace—showing the most delectable view of long, svelte legs—and perfectly worn cowgirl boots are designed to provoke the opposite behavior from me. Women like to call me a god during sex, but I’m only a man. I only have so much control.
Sure, I may have misjudged the reason for her nervousness a teensy bit, but fuck, the number of times I get asked for autographs and selfies on a daily basis is downright mind-blowing. I was just assuming I was making it easier on her by cutting to the chase.
“Birdie Harris,” I test out her name on my lips, and her sexy brown eyes narrow. The expression on her face strikes a chord in my memory bank—a music video I saw on the Top 20 Countdown on TV the other day. “You sing that song that’s on the radio all the time…the one about writing a love letter to your ex-boyfriends… What’s it called?” I ask. She’s so popular in country music right now, her songs are played on all the pop stations. People have said she’s like mixing Dolly Parton and Taylor Swift to form some uber-successful female musician.
Her scowl doesn’t soften, and my dick takes notice. Goddamn, but he loves a challenge.
“‘Dear Fool,’” she answers, her lush, pink lips still cast in a firm line.
I’m absolutely enthralled by how full they manage to look even though they’re set. I bet they’d be a sight to see wrapped around something else.