I swallow once and tuck my hair behind my ear, wanting to hide the blush that I’m sure is on my cheeks. “Thank you.”
“Did Luke never say this to you?”
I look up. “He did. He always told me how pretty I was, but . . . I don’t know . . .”
“You didn’t believe it.”
How does this man know my thoughts so easily? “I didn’t.”
“Then believe me, you’re beautiful, and if any man says different, he’s a fucking idiot.”
A nervous laugh escapes me. “You’re making me blush.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
He shrugs. “It means the words are affecting you.”
Oh, he’s definitely affecting me. My heart, my breathing, the intense tingling that’s running through my body. It’s all being affected.
“I appreciate you saying it.”
“I mean it.”
“I believe you,” I say.
“You should believe it too, Brenna. There is nothing wrong with knowing that you’re beautiful and that guys are looking.”
Now that causes me to jerk back a bit. “Guys are looking at me?”
He chuckles. “There are at least two men in here who keep trying to pretend they’re not, but they can’t keep their eyes off you.”
My head whips around as I try to find who he’s talking about. There are only about fifteen people in the whole place.
He leans forward, voice dropping. “One is with his wife over to the right.”
“The other?” I ask.
“Me.”
And now I know he’s definitely flirting, and I like it. I like it a lot.
I drop my gaze for a moment. “Well . . . that’s . . . something.”
He laughs and then grabs his drink.
I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. That single movement is unbelievably sexy. Everything he does is. It’s a little ridiculous.
When he puts the glass down, I can almost feel the shift in him. As though the cool liquid also helped calm him.
“So,” Jacob says, “I figured if we get to know each other, it’ll make co-directing easier.”
“We are not co-directing.”
He shrugs. “Semantics.”
“You don’t have to do this, you know?”
“Do what?”
“This, be my friend if you don’t want.”
“Is that what we’re becoming?” Jacob asks.
“Isn’t it?”
“You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
He laughs, and I squint, wondering if he’s lost his mind. “Answering a question with a question.”
Shit. I am. “I don’t even realize that I’m doing it.”
“I’ll answer one of those questions . . . yes, I do know that I don’t have to do this. The thing is, Brenna, I want to. Being back in this town was my version of hell on Earth, and since meeting you . . . err . . . Sebastian, things have become bearable. He’s funny and getting to hang out with him was a lot of fun.”
I smile, loving that he sees my son that way. “He enjoyed it too. I appreciate you doing any of this.”
“So, since we’re going to spend a lot more time around each other, let’s get to the important things, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I’ll ask the questions. Favorite genre of music?”
“These are the important questions?”
He tilts his head to the side with his brows raised. “Now, that was a question again.”
“Damn it. Okay. Music. I like a little of everything. I grew up listening to Elvis thanks to my mother, and then my father loved hard rock. My best friend, Cybil, likes rap music, which, if you ever met her, you’d never believe, but that girl can rap lyrics like it was her calling.”
“That’s great, but all of those are everyone else’s choices, what’s yours?”
“I guess, I would say that I really love pop. I like silly, light, and sweet songs where everyone can be happy, smile, and dance around like fools. What about you?”
He grins. “I’m more of a classic rock man.”
“I can see that.”
Just then Magnolia returns, places a plate of complimentary fries down, and then is gone.
“All right, favorite movie?”
That one is easy. “Sweet Home Alabama.”
He rolls his eyes. “The one where she goes back home because she’s married to one dude while the other gives her a ring from Tiffany’s?”
“That’s the one.”
“Are all girls nuts?”
I laugh and grab a fry. “Maybe. What’s yours?”
Jacob leans back. “You guess.”
My first instinct is to go with one of his movies, but that seems a bit stupid and too easy. Not to mention, most creative people don’t like their own work. They scrutinize it, finding flaws where there aren’t any. No one has to tell them they suck because they tell themselves enough.
“Jurassic Park?”
He laughs. “No, but you’re at least not going with anything of mine. I would never choose any of those.”
“And why not?”
“Because they’re shit.”
I roll my eyes at his self-deprecation. “I know a lot of people who would beg to differ.”
Jacob shrugs, letting the comment roll off as though it’s nothing. “Back to the pick.”
There’s no surprise in what Luke’s was . . . Top Gun, but I don’t see that being Jacob’s. I don’t really know him, so I’m not sure if he’s more serious or if he likes something more like Fast Times at Ridgemont High.
“You have to give me some hints. I need to at least know the mood of it.”
“Okay, it’s a classic.”
“Like Casablanca?”
Jacob’s brow rises as his head lowers. “Does any man who still has possession of his man card like Casablanca?”
“No idea since I’m not a man.”
“The answer is no.”
“Okay, so when you say classic, do you mean like Fred Astaire or classic man movie like Fast and the Furious?”
He shakes his head.
“What?” I ask with a hint of laughter. “I am trying here, and you’re no help.”
“You’re supposed to be the psychoanalyst here.”
“No, in fact, you are,” I remind him.
“That’s right. All right, it’s a classic guy movie.”
I wrack my brain, trying to think of the movie that would fit Jacob. Something that he might have watched that defined a change in his life and brought him toward acting. “The Godfather?”
“Very close.”
“Scarface?”
Finally, he takes pity on me. “Goodfellas.”
I nod, seeing that. “All the greats.”
Jacob takes another fry from the basket. “It’s truly one of the best movies made. I remember watching it with Declan and thinking . . . I need to be this one day.”
“A mobster?” I joke.
He laughs. “No, the movie is definitely not inspirational. It was more that a movie could do something for someone. That it could make a difference in a kid’s life. I wanted to be that. I wanted to make someone inspired by art.”