He motioned toward the chair across from him. “Then sit. Have a beer with me.”
“I don’t mingle with customers.”
“Bullshit. You probably know most of the people in this town.”
“Okay. Maybe I just don’t want to talk to you,” she answered tartly.
He shook his head. “That’s not it. It’s because I kissed you the other day, and now you’re uncomfortable.”
“Is not,” she denied emphatically.
“It was an amazing kiss, by the way,” he drawled.
“Not that great. I’ve had better,” she protested. “And if you have a fan club, why bother kissing me at all?”
“Because I didn’t want to kiss anybody in my fan club,” he answered, locking eyes with her. “I wanted to kiss you.”
He watched, amused, as she opened her mouth and then snapped it shut. It was the first time she’d ever looked the least bit flustered.
She wrinkled her brow and looked at him quizzically. “Why? You have women dropping at your feet.”
“Not the right kind of woman.” He took a slug of beer and motioned for her to sit again.
She turned, her ponytail swaying as she made her way to the back of the bar and pulled out a chilled Diet Coke, came back to the table, and sat across from him. “I’m not really joining you. My feet hurt.” She popped the lid on the can and took a long gulp of the soda. “Besides, I’m done cleaning up, and I can’t lock up until you leave or it hits closing time.” She hesitated before she asked, “Are you really being bothered here in town? Most people are pretty used to seeing the Sinclair brothers, and you guys have been here before. We usually mind our own business.”
“Usually nobody bothers any of us. But these girls all look young,” he admitted disgustedly.
“Like how young?”
He shrugged. “Probably just old enough to drink.”
“And you’re so old?” Kristin said teasingly as she picked up his sunglasses. “Honestly, I think wearing sunglasses at night is probably a dead giveaway that you’re hiding.” She shook her head sadly and picked up the hat. “And since when are you a Patriots fan? You live in California.”
He snatched the cap from Kristin’s hand. “I didn’t just buy that. I grew up on the East Coast. I don’t like California teams. I’ve always been a Pats fan.”
She gave him a doubtful look. “Okay. But I’d definitely lose the sunglasses at night.”
Julian had been trying to stay on the down low for so long that he hadn’t even thought about wearing the glasses after dark. Usually, if he was going out after the sun set, it was for a work function, so it didn’t matter if he was recognized. “I’ll take that into consideration.”
“Does it ever get old? Being famous, I mean? It has to suck not being able to go anywhere without bodyguards in a crowd.” She took another sip of her soda and looked at him questioningly.
It got old really fast, and Julian had been over it almost from the start. He hadn’t gotten into the business for stardom or fame. He was in it because he loved movies and telling a good story. “It’s part of the job. Even if it’s something I hate, there’s parts of every job that people aren’t going to like. If you’re successful, you don’t have much of a choice except to deal with it.”
She looked surprised. “You really don’t like having women panting after you?”
He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. “I wouldn’t say that. If you wanted to pant after me, I wouldn’t run away,” he answered in a low, husky tone. “Hell, I’d love to let you catch me.”
Kristin rolled her eyes at him and snorted. “Dream on, Hotshot. I never have liked being part of a crowd of groupies.”
He smirked at her, enjoying her denial. Julian actually liked Kristin. He always had. She spoke her mind, and she definitely didn’t worship famous people. Honestly, he didn’t think she gave a damn whether he was famous or not.
“Do you like my movies?” he asked curiously.
She didn’t speak for a moment, finally answering, “I only saw your first one. But yeah, I liked it. You deserved to be awarded for it. You’re an amazing actor, and you brought life into the character, made the movie seem . . . real. I haven’t seen the others.”
“Don’t bother with the most recent one,” he warned her. “But you might like the second one.”
“I haven’t had a chance to see it. What’s wrong with the last one?”
“Not enough heart,” he answered stoically. “If people like special effects, it’s good. But it doesn’t have much emotional substance.”
“And that bothers you? It was a big-budget movie.”
“That might be the problem. Too much money on bling and not enough guts in the screenplay.” When he’d signed on to do the film, he’d hoped that once it was produced, it would come to life. But it hadn’t turned out much different from the screenplay, which was all lights, stunts, and sound.
“Why do it if you didn’t like it?” Kristin questioned.
“I guess I was hopeful that it would turn out differently. It had a huge budget, but most of it got spent on the effects. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a fun flick. The action is nonstop, but it’s not something that will touch anybody here.” He put his hand on his heart.
“Sometimes, maybe that’s okay. People go to movies to escape from their lives in lots of situations. I know some people will love that. A few hours of fun on the big screen is still important. It’s escapism.” Kristin’s tone was sincere.