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The view overlooking Griffith Park at night is my favourite. Yes, the Hollywood sign can be seen more clearly in the daylight, but there is something magical about the dark hills against a hazy glow of the radio tower and the sprinkling of city lights far below—like a blanket of fairy dust.
Only a few traces of our long overdue dinner of burgers and chips remained on our laps as Jaxson and I noshed with glee in his Tesla. He’d put the convertible top down to keep the greasy food smell from lingering on his upholstery, and the surrounding trees serenaded us with the rustling of their leaves in the breeze.
Jaxson had long finished his meal, having inhaled it in too few bites and was now dipping his finger in the cardboard box picking at crumbs and traces of melted cheese that stuck to the wrappers.
“Have you spoken with your mother?” he asked after a long period of thought. “Is she ordering the wedding flowers yet?”
I giggled at the memory. Knowing my mum, she’d already booked the church. Still, it was good fun to give her a shock.
“Don’t be so daft. My mum knows we were just having a laugh. I’ll never get married. Just think of my sister and all her raucous children. Can you just imagine?” I snickered and took a sip of my lemonade.
Jaxson seemed to be considering my words with some measure of unease.
“I can imagine quite a lot,” he said, looking squarely in my eyes.
“She’ll get over it,” I said with a laugh.
“And what about you?” He suddenly became quite serious.
“Me?”
“You’ll get over it, too?” His voice was quiet, just above a whisper and he leveled his gaze on me with burning intensity. With a wolffish, brooding expression, a sly curve hinted at the corner of his lips. He held the ferocity of his features searing into me for the length of several seconds, and parting his lips so the tip of his tongue touched his teeth, lodged his entire thumb in his mouth, slurping off the salt and oil which remained on his fingers from the chips he’d devoured. What a pillock.
“Hmmm. I don’t know,” I sneered. “Is there more good charm where that came from?”
He broke into amiable laughter. “I’ve been known to be something of a heartbreaker. Just look at me.”
“You’ve got ketchup on your shirt. Real smooth, Casanova.”
“How do you know it’s not blood from murdering all your would-be suitors?” He swept a finger over the offending condiment and sucked that onto his tongue as well.
“Oh! You do know how to woo a lady. Will you sing for me all the rest of my days?”
“You will sing for me, my angel.”
I gave him a pointed scoff. “After I finish my chips and not before.”
I shoveled a handful of chips into my mouth with unbridled satisfaction. If my mum could only see me! It was a wonder Jaxson and I weren’t obese. We certainly ate enough takeaway.
We sat for some time in companionable silence watching the LA skyline twinkle like jewels against a black still sky. The crisp autumn breeze began to kick in, sending a chill over my shoulders.
“Do you want me to put the top on?” Jaxson began to reach for the ignition to power the convertible roof.
“No,” I said, inching closer to him, as close as was possible in a bucket seat. “Just give me your arm. I like the fresh air.”
He moved his body to press up against the centre console and placed a warm hand on my shoulder. My head instinctively rested in the cavity above his chest and I sighed contentedly.
“Do you think they’ll be happy?” I asked after a lengthy period of thought.
“Who?” Jaxson breathed absently, half lost in the moment. His fingers abstractedly drifted over the skin of my arm, tracing languid circles over my gooseflesh.
“Randall and Annie,” I said, burrowing deeper into his warmth.
He lifted his hand from my shoulder and brushed a few of my stray hairs into place — most likely because they were tickling his face. But he kept his hand over my head, stroking his fingers through the heavy locks, and nestled his chin over the curve of my scalp.
“Yes,” he said at last. “I think they will be very happy.”
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Want to read about Jaxson and Emma’s happily ever after?
GRAB SECRETS OF A HOLLYWOOD MATCHMAKER
SINGLE PRINGLE NEVER to Mingle.
EMMA
That’s the pact I have with my best friend who happens to be the sexiest man in Hollywood. But although one does not simply snog their bestie, it doesn’t mean we can’t pretend for the screen.
Pucker up, mate.
JAXSON
Who am I kidding? Emma Woods is Hollywood’s sweetheart. The star in my next film. My best mate.
Off limits.
But lately, the torch I’ve been carrying for her is burning into a fiery flame. And what do I do? I cast myself as her romantic lead. Genius? Or daft? The jury’s still out on that one.
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ALSO BY GIGI BLUME:
BACKSTAGE ROMANCE SERIES
Confessions of a Hollywood Matchmaker