“I’m worried about you getting upstairs. What floor do you live on?”
I bit my bottom lip. He was going to want to help me upstairs because he was surprisingly kind. And I was going to want to invite him in. Which would be bad. Because there was really only one thing I wanted from Grant Caldwell and it wasn’t the hundred bucks in my pocket that he refused to take back.
He wasn’t my type. I wasn’t his type.
Wealthy businessmen and admittedly bohemian actresses do not have relationships.
But that didn’t mean they couldn’t have passion.
I kind of wanted to make out with Grant, old school, given how teen my crush was.
I should lie, say I lived on the first floor so he’d walk me to the front door and nothing more. I opened my mouth. My inner flirt won the fight as I told the truth.
“I live on the fifth floor.”
“Is there an elevator?”
“No. It’s a lot of stairs. Like, a lot.” Subtle. Not.
“Then let me help you upstairs.”
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Tagged: Erin McCarthy