Her gaze dropped to his stomach—he had invited it, after all. “Whose are they?”
“They’re drawn on.” He rubbed at a spot. His fingers came away streaked with brown. “They’re a bitch to get off. They do my shoulders and arms too.” He pulled his arm around and showed her the shadowing above and below his biceps. “For sure, I do a ton of evil workouts and deny myself a lot of donuts. But mostly my abs come off in the shower.”
She hardly had to point out that his beauty was far greater than the sum of his contour lines. And all the contouring in the world wouldn’t create muscles on someone who didn’t at least have the basics.
She forced herself to focus on his face—and slapped his cheek.
He caught her hand. “What the hell, Lana?”
“Omigod, I’m sorry.” She wriggled her wrist so he could see her palm. A squashed mosquito. “Ew, blood!” He released her and she wiped it on her pants. “You’re right. We should get out of here, before I have to save you from a mountain lion by jumping you, or suck out rattlesnake venom.”
He laughed. “You are a one-woman roller-coaster ride.”
“Not usually. I’m usually very sedate. I definitely don’t go around slapping men and shoving them into trees. I apologize for encroaching on your personal space without permission.”
“I acknowledge and appreciate your apology,” he teased.
Going up was somehow easier than going down. They quickly established a rhythm—he’d climb, she’d follow, he’d help her up. It involved a lot of touching.
“Do you have anything else to go on, apart from this pinging as her last location?” He hoisted her onto the granite platform—the scene of her earlier humiliation.
“No, but…” She clamped her mouth shut.
“But?”
She let out a frustrated sigh. “I suppose you’ll torture this out of me anyway. I had this idea that I could break into the production trailer and snoop around.”
“Breaking and entering, now. You might be the wildest librarian I’ve met.”
“How many librarians have you met?”
He thought for a moment. “None?” He pointed at her. “One!”
“In your entire life?”
“I don’t get out much,” he deadpanned. “Wait, I did go into a library once.”
“Once?”
“A charity function at the J.P. Morgan Library in New York. That was cool. Old books stacked right up the walls.”
“Not your regular public library. So, you’re judging me for not watching movies, yet I’ve watched twelve times more movies than you’ve visited libraries!” Of course, half those movies had starred him, but if he was doing those calculations, he didn’t let on.
“I’m not judging you! Besides, I’d like to be a guy who goes to a public library every week and picks out a book.”
“You know youcouldbe that guy? It’s free, and anyone can join!”
“Just get a library card, wander in, and pick out a book?”
“Generally how it works, yeah. You do have to return it later.”
He looked at her sadly. She sensed there was something she wasn’t getting, something he couldn’t be bothered explaining. He looked around again—checking his mirrors—and resumed climbing.
“Why not join a library?” she pressed. “How charming—the movie star who pops down to the local library! Sounds like a rom-com.” A rom-com with Griffin Hart as the hero. She’d read that book. Hell, she’d watch the movie. Perhaps the heroine could be a librarian? In a rom-com, anything was possible.
“A novel in which the librarian sells my reading preferences to the trash media?” His voice strained as he pulled himself up. “Sounds like a psychological thriller. Not that I read anything shifty.” He found a stable spot and held out the rope. “Your turn.”
She followed his route, though it was a case of one small step for him, one giant leap for her. “Wouldn’t matter if you did—that would be a serious breach of privacy. A person’s library history is a window into their soul.”
