Page 3 of Smartasses
Oh, that was how she wanted to play this? The woman with the soft Southern accent that definitely came out more country than old money was calling him a hick? As he’d grown up in LA the son of movie stars of the multiple Academy Award–winning variety, the closest he’d ever been to the country life had been going on set with his parents when they’d shot a movie in Idaho and his annual weekly visit with relatives in Iowa during the summers when he was growing up. Still, he’d been given his part, and like any good improv player, he was going to lean into it—with a twist.
“Thank goodness I ran into Andie, here,” he said, adding some more yokel to his words. “She just saved me from feeling as out of place as an outhouse in the White House.”
“Aubrey,” she corrected, looking at him as if she’d never seen him before.
“That’s right.” He tapped her on the tip of her button nose as she all but growled at him. “She just talks so fast it’s kind of hard for my country boy ears to keep up.”
Benjamin chuckled. “That’s interesting, considering she’s from a blink-and-you-miss-it small town in Virginia.”
“Really? I’m surprised.” He turned to face Aubrey, giving himself a second to take her in. She was cute in a main-character’s-sweet-best-friend-who-fell-for-everything kind of way, while her eyes betrayed her girl-next-door sensibility. Those big brown eyes sparkled with trouble. It wasn’t overt, but it was just enough of a sugar-and-spice combo to make him want to know more. Plus, he’d caught her stealing pants; there was definitely something more to Aubrey Dean than her aw-shucks face promised. “You have fast-talker written all over you.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, not missing the dig at her underhanded antics earlier. Then as if she’d flipped a switch, she turned the sugar back on and focused on her friends.
“I’ll meet you guys back up on deck for the mandatory safety briefing thing.” She sidestepped closer to him, teasing him with the strawberry scent of her shampoo. “I’m just gonna make sure Carter doesn’t get lost again.”
They turned—meaning she pivoted and he followed because he couldn’t seem to help it with her—and started back down the hall.
They got a few doors down from her friends before she broke the silence. “So where is your room?”
“Eight doors down on the right.” Normally, he’d be several decks up in one of the full suites, but he’d gotten his assistant to dial back to a more affordable regular room with a balcony.
“Are you kidding me?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“We’re next-door neighbors.” She didn’t sound very thrilled about it.
What was that all about? It wasn’t like he was the one who’d asked to be part of the pants crime of the century. “Seems only right since you’ve involved me in your life of crime.”
She let out a full-tilt snort of oh-yeah-buddy-suuuuuuure. “I wish I lived anything close to that exciting of a life. I own a bakery. Well, it’s my name on the business license, but really, it’s my gran’s bakery.”
Carbs. He was going to eat so much sugar while he was on the cruise it would make his trainer for The Admiral movies cry. Totally worth it. “So what’s your baking specialty?”
“Mine?” She laughed. It was light and soft and too utterly practiced to be sincere. “Nothing. I am whatever a gardening black thumb is to baking. The shop, however, is famous for its bear claws. So will you be using your newfound skills of skulduggery when you return home to Iowa?”
It was a deft turn to get the conversation away from herself and back on him. Damn, he could take lessons from this woman. According to one of the British secret agents he’d shadowed for an action flick a few years ago, diversionary tactics were the best way to maintain a cover. He’d never seen it used in a real-life situation, though, and had it be as smooth as what she’d just done.
“Doubtful they’ll be a call for any flimflam,” he said, echoing her old-timey turn of phrase. “There’s just not much call for subterfuge when you fabricate teeth.”
“Like dentures?”
Thank God his cousin, who actually did live in Iowa and actually was a dental technician, had given him the low down on the job. “That and the crowns and bridges, orthodontic appliances too.” He brought them to a stop. “And this is my room.”
“Thank you for your help,” she said, this time her smile genuine. “I owe you a drink.”
He should beg off and keep his distance if he wanted to maintain his cover, show Hollywood he could be more than just The Admiral, and finally get the respect he craved from a world that thought he’d only gotten where he was because of his parents. That was what he should do, but he didn’t.
“Yes, you do,” he said, unlocking his door with his free hand. “You know where to find me.”
She looked down at her arm still in his, seemingly surprised to find it there, and gently pulled back. “See you around.”
She disappeared inside her room, leaving Carter in the hall trying to understand what in the hell just happened and what he was going to do with a stranger’s pants stuffed under his shirt.
