I looked around for the cameras. The host had come back out, and they had segued into giving Ralph Ramsey a lifetime achievement award. His daughter—and Noah’s recent costar—Lily Ramsey, was introducing her father. Both of those speeches were going to take a long time. I sighed. I was hoping that this segment would end quickly and I could make an exit and not have to sit here and keep lying to Noah Douglas.

“I’m a seat filler.” I decided that was all the explanation he was entitled to.

“A seat filler? What kind of job pays you to fill seats?”

“I don’t know, probably the same kind of job that pays you to pretend to be someone you’re not.” Like being an actor was so much better than being a seat filler. Pretentious, much? “Besides, it’s not my job. I’m helping out my best friend’s fiancé’s mother. I’m volunteering. You should know what that is. Don’t you celebrities love to volunteer? Because you sure do get a lot of pictures taken while you do it.” Not him, though. If he had a pet cause, I’d never heard of it.

I faced front again. My luck was only going to last for so long, and if I kept fighting with Noah freaking Douglas I was going to get kicked out and ruin Shelby’s game plan to win over her future mother-in-law.

Drawing in a deep breath, I tried to calm my shaky nerves. They were alive, lit up with excitement from being this close to him. He was so . . . disconcerting. I wished, not for the first time, that my plan to steer clear of all men meant that I wouldn’t feel any attraction to them. Especially not the kind I was feeling right now for this arrogant movie star sitting next to me. That would have been super helpful.

“What is your job, then?”

It took me a second to process this. Had he really just asked me what my job was? Why did he care? “A groomer.”

“Of people?”

“What?” I asked, turning back toward him. What the actual— “No. Dogs. I’m a dog groomer. I have my own business. And what kind of weird world do you live in that you think I meant a people groomer?”

“I have a groomer. Annie. It’s how this happens.” He gestured to his face and hair. His dreamy hair that was in short, tousled waves pushed back from his face—it reminded me a little of a lion’s mane. I had to curl my fingers inward to keep them from reaching out to touch it.

“That and good genes,” I responded, shaking my head, trying not to get sucked in by his sexiness.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Up to you. I wouldn’t.”