“I’m good.” He flashed the inside of his suit jacket to show me that he had two protein bars there. “Although I don’t think we’re going to be able to eat them here. The Academy doesn’t allow it, and there’s going to be cameras everywhere.” Seated between Noah Douglas and Chase Covington? Yeah, cameras all over us was a pretty safe bet. He went on, “I know how important it is to you to follow the rules. Like how you have to stay in your seat until someone comes to take it.”

It was then that I realized no one was coming to take my seat. This had Shelby’s fingerprints all over it. “You guys lured me here under false pretenses.”

“You weren’t lured,” he said. “Nobody set up a wooden box and a stick with a string on it.”

“But there is a Snickers bar!”

“True. Only you didn’t know about it until after you were already here, so not a lure.”

“You did set me up, though,” I protested.

“Which you’ll either find charming or it’s what you’ll use as the basis for your restraining order,” he said with a wink, and it sucked all of the fight out of me.

The orchestra started to play, and as the music swelled, the lights went up. The show was starting. I should have been upset. I should have texted Shelby right then and there to tell her what she had done was wrong on so many different levels.

But I didn’t.

He’d brought me my favorite candy bar.

He wanted to spend one of the biggest nights of his life sitting next to me. How could I be mad about that?

Shelby was right. Noah Douglas didn’t give up easily.

And I didn’t know what to do next.

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER EIGHT

Because I was confused by the two competing desires inside me, one that wanted to run away screaming with my arms flailing and the other wanting to climb into his lap, I fell quiet. I watched the opening musical number and then the first two presenters walked out onstage, but I couldn’t focus. Instead I was keenly aware of him.

As we all politely applauded, Noah leaned in next to me, that clean/expensive scent surrounding me. He whispered, his words hot and breathy against my ear, sending tingles to unmentionable places, “He’s wearing a toupee.”

The actor in question was in his sixties and known for his thick head of hair. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Saw it myself.”

I couldn’t wait to tell Shelby. “What about Melissa Wilton?” She was the copresenter.

“She is pregnant, but her husband is not the father.”

I couldn’t help myself. I gasped. “Who is?”

“The director of her latest miniseries. They’re going to get married after she publicly announces her ‘amicable’ divorce.”