“You just thought I was a dumb jock who played with my stick?”
She blushed with what appeared to be guilt. “Maybe.”
“I’ve got layers, Angel. Maybe someday you’ll be curious enough to peel them back.”
Her gaze dropped to his lips and a spark flickered to life in his chest. Not to mention south of the beltline. He slowly went in for the kiss, giving her time to pull back. He was surprised when her eyes fluttered closed and she moved to meet him halfway. He could feel her breath skate across his mouth.
Hot damn, he was the luckiest SOB on the face of the planet. Poppy Hart was about to kiss him. And wasn’t that every man’s wet dream come true.
“Can you say that last line again?” A voice came from behind them.
“What?” he mumbled.
“That last line about having layers. The mic didn’t pick it up.”
Decker opened his eyes to find that there was a camera aimed at them, a boom mic inches from their heads, and Jack standing to the side. With excited eyes, he nudged the camera forward. And that flicker died in a ball of flames.
DIARY ROOM:
Decker: I’d like to state for the record that this is horse shit. I will not be spilling my guts for America to see. And I will especially not be talking about this morning and the kitchen fiasco.
Producer: You do know I’m filming this.
Decker: Film this.
Producer: This is a family show. Now, I’m going to have to censor your middle finger.
Decker: I see one censor tag and I will break your finger.
10
Poppy shoved Decker inside her bedroom and slammed the door. For good measure, she pushed him away and then she checked the closet, under the bed, and in the shower before plastering her body against the entryway to make sure no one could get inside. Call her paranoid, but a camera crew just showed up at ten at night and caught them in a near lip-lock in the woodshop!
“How much do you think they saw?” she asked, her breath coming out in bursts.
“Why, Angel? Afraid America will learn you’re interested in my layers? Or my lips?”
“How can you be so blasé about this?”
He walked over to the bed and took a seat on the corner, man-sprawling his legs out and taking up half the room. Taters plopped on the end of the mattress and began kneading the comforter.
“You think I’m being blasé about this?” he asked quietly. “If anyone has the right to be upset it’s me. I was the idiot who was spilling my guts out there.”
The wordidiothit her like a pallet of bricks to the heart. Did he regret letting her in, talking to her about such personal things? Just when she thought they were getting somewhere, taking things from surface to a depth that spoke to her, she was reminded of just how shallow he could be.
“We nearly kissed. You’re okay with that being out there?”
His expression was so schooled she couldn’t tell what he was feeling. “You have a problem with that?”
“You don’t?” she asked.
“Me kissing a pretty lady? And not just any pretty lady, but you? Nope.”
His words caught her off-balance, but she did her best to ignore the way her tummy flickered like a roman candle was going off.
She spun around in a circle. “Do you take anything seriously?”
He went stock still. “I might come off as a stupid jock. But when it comes to my reputation, I take everything seriously.”
