In Love with Lewis Prescott, page 3
“Don’t worry, I haven’t told anyone about running into you. I’m not planning on it either.”
He exhales, looking visibly less stressed. He opens his mouth to speak but then stops himself before darting his gaze around the space again. The door opens, and an elderly couple walks in. I take note of how Lewis’s broad shoulders lower to a relaxed position as he takes in the couple. Clearly, they have no idea who he is and he’s relieved.
“You wanna get out of here?” I ask. “I can give you a ride to wherever you’re staying. I’m parked right out front.”
Instantly I wish I could take back what I’ve just said. Like Lewis Prescott needs a ride from me, someone he barely knows. I’m sure that’s the last thing an intensely private celebrity wants, for a stranger to learn where he’s staying. And I’m also sure he’s got a sports car parked around the corner and can make a speedy getaway on his own. I probably sound like a weirdo for even offering.
“Er—never mind, I—”
“Yeah, I’d love that,” he says quickly as he hops to his feet and grabs me by the hand to help me stand up. Once again, I’m left making barely audible sputtering noises at such a friendly touch and his immediate acceptance of my offer.
He points to the laptop on the coffee table. “That yours?”
I nod, and he scoops it up along with my power cord. I grab my purse, and together we walk out to my car.
“So. Where am I taking you?” I say once I pull out of the space and roll through the main drag downtown.
“The Sandy Shore Motel on the edge of town.”
I almost laugh. The Sandy Shore Motel is the seediest motel in all of Half Moon Bay. He probably just wants me to drop him there so he can throw me off the trail.
“That place is a dump.”
“I’m aware,” he mumbles while staring straight ahead.
I slow to a stop at a red light, wondering just how much I’m allowed to pry in this odd situation where I’m giving a television star an impromptu lift in my cluttered hatchback. Probably not much at all, given that we barely know each other.
“Sorry, I should haven’t said that about the motel,” I say in a quiet voice.
“It’s fine.”
When I glance over at him, I’m thrown by the slight smile on his face, but after a second his stare turns focused and serious.
“I’m assuming you know...what happened...with me,” he says after a moment.
“I have an idea,” I say, my gazed fixed on the road ahead. “Sorry for what you’re going through. And for how you lost, um, your job.”
I bite my tongue. Why did I bring that up? He probably doesn’t want to be reminded of that awful moment.
Despite knowing better, I start to wonder why exactly Lewis got fired. Did he and the showrunner just not like each other? Did Lewis do something to get on the showrunner’s nerves, like arrive late to set one too many times? Or did he do something outrageous?
I quietly scold myself for speculating. He’s sitting right next to me while I’m thinking such intrusive thoughts about him. It’s none of my business why he got fired—it’s none of anyone’s business. That’s exactly why he’s here, to hide out from all the nosy people trying to pry into his life. I’ve got zero right to speculate about any of this right now.
“Yeah, well. It is what it is,” he says gruffly. “Just trying to lay low till the bad press dies down.”
“Why’d you tell me that?” I ask when I can’t hold in my curiosity any longer.
“What do you mean?”
“Aren’t you worried that I’m going to tip off the paparazzi? Or chase after you once I know where your motel is? Or take a photo of you and send it to all my friends?”
His light chuckle completely throws me, as does the very tempting dimple in his right cheek. It’s such a wholesome and adorable feature on his otherwise ruggedly handsome face. I have to look away—it’s almost too beautiful, too arresting for my brain to handle. A beat later I glance back over and catch his sparkling hazel eyes scanning over my face. For a millisecond it looks like his gaze is lingering over my lips, but he’s back to my eyes before I can be sure.
“No. I’m not worried about you ratting me out.”
I’m speechless as I pull into the pothole-ridden parking lot of the motel, astounded that this guy comes off as so trusting given everything he’s going through.
“Why would you trust me? We don’t even know each other.”
“Because you’re treating me like a regular person, not a celebrity. That counts for a lot in my experience. Plus, you haven’t told anyone about seeing me.”
Damn. The way Lewis can quickly read a person he barely knows is impressive. I wonder if that’s a skill he’s had to develop as a celebrity, sussing out trustworthy people in a sea of folks who are constantly after you for your fame, your money, or some other nefarious reason.
He points to the far end of the single-story, L-shaped motel that’s swathed in a drab adobe shade. “Right there is fine.”
I drive over and park. “Wow.”
“I know, it’s a shithole.”
I burst out laughing. “This is the perfect hideout. I’d never expect a celebrity to stay within a hundred miles of this place.”
He chuckles as he moves to open the door. “Thanks again for hiding me earlier. And for the ride.”
“No problem. Good luck with...” My phone buzzes, and I glance down to see another text from yet another contractor quoting me an insane price to finish the remodel.
I grit my teeth and before sighing sharply.
“Everything okay?” Lewis asks.
“Not even close.”
He opens his mouth like he’s not quite sure what to say to that.
“Sorry, I’m just trying to salvage the remodel from hell. It looks like it’s going to be hell on my bank account too.”
He winces. “Shitty contractors?”
I let out a sad chuckle. “How’d you know? I fired the contractor yesterday because he screwed up everything from the flooring to the light fixtures.”
I quickly explain that I’ve quit my job and moved to Half Moon Bay to fix up my grandparents’ old house.
“I used to be a contractor before I was an actor,” Lewis says.
“Really?”
He nods. “It was only a few years ago that I gave it up completely. I’d do house flips while auditioning and when I nabbed small parts here and there.”
“Damn. Too bad you’re not available to work on my run-down bungalow.” I’m cleaning my glasses lenses on the hem of my long-sleeve T-shirt when I look up and notice that Lewis’s brow is lifted slightly, like he’s actually considering what I’ve said.
I laugh and wave a hand before focusing back on my smudgy glasses. “I’m kidding. But hey, if you ever need a place to hide out where no one will ever think to look for you, check out the Ellorza family residence on the south side of town, right next to that rocky hillside the city council zoned against any new construction decades ago.”
I expect Lewis to chuckle a thanks or a good-natured “okay then” at my terribly long-winded joke before hopping out of my car. But he doesn’t move to leave, or even say a word. I slide my glasses back on and glance up at him. His mouth hangs half-open, and there’s a gleam in his hazel eyes as he gazes off to the side.
“Okay. Yeah. I wanna do that.”
“Do what?”
“I wanna move into your house.”
“Um, what?” I laugh but immediately stop when the focused expression on his face remains.
“No one knows I’m staying at this motel, but it’s only a matter of time before they find out. Someone—one of the receptionists or the housekeeping staff or another guest—is bound to notice me. Or one of the people who’ve been trying to chase me down in town will catch up to me and my hideout will be blown. But no one will know I’m staying with you.”
I’m speechless as he gazes at me expectantly. Is this guy serious?
“It can be a work trade. I help you renovate your house in exchange for safekeeping.”
My mouth hangs open as I soak in everything he’s saying. He’s serious.
I hold my hand up. “Hang on a sec. I was kidding, Lewis. I don’t actually think you should hide out in my grandparents’ home.”
“Why not? It’s a pretty brilliant plan. Plus, it’s a win-win—we both get what we need.”
I sputter at what is happening right now—this TV heartthrob is seriously making a case for hiding out at my house.
“First of all, it’s a mess,” I say. “It’s just me in that house right now, and even I’m having a hell of a time trying not to hurt myself by tripping over paint cans and errant light fixtures.”
He shrugs. “Like I said, I used to be a contractor. I know what it’s like to navigate the mess. I could do it in my sleep.”
I’m stunned speechless yet again.
“What if I paid you?” Something behind his eyes turns fiery, pleading almost. “A million bucks to let me stay at your house, just for the next three months. Until the bad press dies down, then I’ll head back to LA and I’ll be out of your hair. You’ll never have to see me again.”
My jaw unhinges as it falls open. “What the—Are you seriously trying to bribe me?”
He jerks back at my response. “No! God, no. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, just that... I’d be more than happy to pay you to let me do this. I would never expect you to do this for me without being compensated.”
Compensated.
Something about that word sits like a rock in my stomach. Is this how he lives his life as a rich and famous celebrity—offering insane amounts of money for random favors? I could never fathom doing that, even if I had that much money.
“I’m not taking any money from you.”
He holds up both hands, palms facing me. “How about I fix up your house, then? Free of charge.”
I sputter out a laugh. “This cannot be real.”
“I’m one thousand percent serious, Harper.”
“Even if I were to say yes to such an outrageous proposition, there’s no way you could do the reno job yourself. The place is a disaster.”
“I’ve worked on skeleton crews that did the work of twenty people in half the time. I’ve worked from sunup to sundown on jobsites to finish houses in record time.”
He speaks with that sure, resolute tone once more.
“At least show me the place—let me see what state it’s in,” he says, his tone softer. “Please?”
The words no way dangle off the tip of my tongue, but against every instinct I have, I swallow back the words and actually think about what he’s proposing. There’s no way I’m taking any money from him, but I can’t deny that his offer to fix up my grandparents’ house would be freaking awesome. I should at least think about it.
I face forward and put my car in gear.
“Okay, I’ll show you. But no promises.”
Chapter Three
Harper
Lewis Prescott paces around my grandparents’ living room, and I have to fight the urge to pinch myself.
How the hell is this my life? Twenty-four hours ago I was standing in this very spot as I fired my contractor. Now I’m observing the man that Cosmopolitan voted as having the sexiest six-pack in Hollywood while he studies the gaps between my floorboards.
I shake my head as if to magically reset my thoughts, my vision, my reality. But nope. The scene in front of me remains. This must be what people mean when they say “mind fuck.”
Lewis trots over to the kitchen and opens one of the cabinet doors, wincing when it squeaks. “That Vlad guy definitely half-assed this cabinet installation. Christ, they’re not even level, and all the hinges are loose. The veranda and the added bathrooms are incredibly well done, though.”
He steps over to the hallway leading to the three bedrooms and sticks his head in the half bathroom that I designed.
“The materials in here look really high quality, and the design is perfect. It’s a small space, but you utilized it well with the kind of fixtures you chose and how you oriented the sink and the toilet.”
I know the smile I’m flashing is cheesy, but I can’t help it. I worked so hard on that bathroom, and it feels so damn amazing to be complimented on it.
“And the veranda is just...damn.” He walks back to the kitchen and through the French doors that lead to it. “It’s a gorgeous wraparound,” he says while standing in the open doorway.
“Thanks,” I say. “It took a while to get just right, but I think it was worth it.”
“You worked hard on the first stage of this renovation, and it shows.”
Lewis finishes his walk-through after commenting here and there about the other problems he notices with Vlad’s remodel.
He turns to me and rests his hands on his hips. “My honest opinion?”
“Please.”
“I can easily fix all of this and do the last couple of projects you mentioned in three months, max.”
“Seriously? By yourself?”
“If you’re willing to help me out with stuff when you’re free, it’ll go faster.”
I was fully expecting Lewis to observe the disaster zone that is currently this house and admit that he’d need at least a ten-person crew to take on this mess. It takes a few seconds of me standing there staring at him to fully process that this is actually doable.
“Okay...maybe I could do that.”
“So does that mean I’m hired?” Lewis flashes a half smile that has me chuckling.
“Not so fast. Can I see some of your past work? I know that might be super annoying for me to ask, but this house means everything to me, and someone already came in and screwed it all up. I don’t want to risk that happening again. I need to know you have the skill to fix what’s wrong with this house and carry out a quality remodel.”
Even as I say it, I have no idea how he’ll be able to quell my worry. But he flashes a boyish smile, like he expected me to say all this all along. “Absolutely.”
He pulls out his phone and for the next few minutes shows me photos of a sprawling mid-century modern home.
“This is my house in LA,” he says. “I bought it just over three years ago. It was a foreclosure and a total dump. Structural problems, mold in the ceilings, fire damage, the works.”
He flips through a dozen photos showing discolored ceilings and crackling walls pocked with holes.
“I spent almost a year fixing it up whenever I had time off between roles.”
My mouth hangs open as I take in the stunning transformation: the open-concept design, post-and-beam construction, clerestory windows all along the entire first floor. If he was able to turn his house into a freaking palace, I know I can trust him with this remodel.
“Whoa. That’s gorgeous.” I look up at him. “Okay. You’ve clearly got some serious skills. But there’s one more thing that you need to be okay with. Given the fact that I live in this house, I’ll be here pretty much every day until this renovation is done, so...”
“You want to micromanage me.” He says it so casually, like he doesn’t mind at all, I’m a little shocked. What I’m suggesting is a contractor’s worst nightmare.
“Pretty much, yeah,” I say. “Look, I know how annoying that’s going to be, but this is my grandparents’ house. It was their first and only home in the US after moving from the Philippines decades ago. When they passed, they left it to my parents and me to take care of. And we...well, we let it get a bit run-down over the years.”
My gaze falls to the floor as a pang of sadness hits my chest. God, I miss Apong Bernie and Apong Vivian so much.
“Even though they’re not here anymore, I want to make this house as perfect as I can to honor them. They deserve that.”
Lewis’s gaze turns thoughtful as he looks at me. “I get it. I promise, if you let me do this renovation, I’ll bust my ass to make it exactly how you want it. I’ll run every single detail by you, no matter how small. No complaints whatsoever. You say jump, my response will always be, ‘how high?’”
I’m heartened at the confidence and conviction in his tone. Combined with his unwavering eye contact, it comes off so intense, so sincere. I believe him completely.
A few quiet moments pass as I cross my arms and gaze around the space. If I say yes to Lewis’s offer to fix up the house, I’ll be saved. I won’t have to shell out tens of thousands to fix Vlad’s mistakes and hire a new crew. Lewis will do it all for free, and the renovation will turn out exactly how I want it.
This time the word yes dances on my tongue, but before I can say it, he speaks.
“If you say yes, I’m gonna need to give you something for letting me stay. You’re letting me hide out for the next three months, which is a million times better than that roach motel I was planning to hunker down in.”
I open my mouth to object, but he shakes his head.
“You’re saving me, Harper. I’m not going to let you do that for nothing.”
“Lewis, I’m not accepting money from you. You offering to fix and finish this renovation for free is payment enough.”
He crosses his arms over his chest and takes a step toward me, closing the space between us to just a couple of feet. It would be intimidating if he didn’t have the most playful smile on his face, like he’s more amused than frustrated at my stubbornness.
As we stand and stare at each other, I can’t help but chuckle at this stalemate.
Suddenly an idea pops in my head. “Okay, wait. There’s no way I’m taking your money, but if you’re hell-bent on giving away your cash, there’s this amazing nonprofit that I volunteer for. They’re grossly underfunded and always in need of donations.”
I tell Lewis about Glad You’re Here, how I started volunteering there in college and whenever I had free time at my old job, and how I’m planning to volunteer there more now that I’m not working.
