Page 64 of Make Her Mine

She straightens slowly. “But if you were really my boyfriend, there would be one difference.”

“Do tell,” I say as she sets the pot on the stove and reaches for the oil.

“I wouldn’t be wearing panties when I bent over in front of you. And I trust I’d be in that position for… a while.”

I choke on… air, I guess. I cough and watch her smirk as she adds oil to the pot and turns the stove on.

I really like this side of Harlow. We’ve bickered, but we’ve never outright flirted until all of this started.

I won’t go so far as to say that I am thankful to Zach Nelson for coming back to town this week, but this is all turning out pretty well.

We keep up the snarky banter, teasing, and yes, flirting, as she heats the oil, adds the popcorn kernels, and covers the pot with a sheet of aluminum foil.

After all the kernels have popped, and while the kernels are still hot and oily, she adds the mixture of spices, shaking the whole thing so that they are evenly distributed. I notice she goes heavy on the cayenne. Of course she does.

“So are we gonna need beer with this or what?” I ask, watching her dump the popcorn into a big plastic bowl that I stretched up to retrieve from a higher cupboard.

“Beer is great with this,” she agrees. “So is soda and hard cider. What do you have?”

I go to the fridge and pull out two of my favorite ciders.

I hold the bottles up and nod. “You’re not really a beer drinker so how about this?”

She picks up the bowl. “Depends. Beer isn’t my go-to, but it sometimes fits. Sometimes it’s just really convenient too.”

I follow her out into the living room. “And you tend to just go along with whatever the people you’re with are drinking.”

She sinks onto the sofa and looks up at me with a frown. “What do you mean?”

“You like to make whoever you’re with comfortable and happy. If you’re in a place where you can get what you like too, you will. Like at the restaurant. You’ll go get your Jack and Coke. But if you’re at someone’s house, and they’re making daiquiris, you’ll choke them down. Or if your friends are coming over to your house, and everybody wants margaritas, you’ll make that for them and drink with them.”

She pops a spicy popcorn kernel into her mouth. “You mean, I’m laid-back and considerate.”

I join her on the couch, taking the opposite end. “You are overly concerned with everyone else always feeling good when you’re around.”

“Overly concerned? How can you critique someone for wanting to make other people feel good?”

“I just don’t think you should always make other people feel good at the expense of your own pleasure.”

“I’m fine,” she says rolling her eyes. “My life is great. I have it really good. If once in a while, my friends want to drink margaritas, even if they’re not my favorite, I’d rather spend time with them and make fun memories than worry about having the perfect drink.”

I hand her one of the ciders. “I understand that. I’m just saying, you deserve to have what you like too. Like tonight. What movie were you going to watch with Ginny and Graham?”

“It’s a new romcom.”

“But you prefer thrillers.”

She narrows her eyes and I suspect she’s a little surprised that I know that.

“Of course, Ginny loves romcoms,” I add. “But the last time you got together I’m guessing you watched a romcom then too. Why can’t they watch a thriller with you, especially at your house?”

“I’m fine, Jefferson,” Harlow says, but her voice is softer now. “How do you know I like thrillers anyway?” she asks after a brief pause.

I honestly can’t answer that. I think I’ve just noticed it over time. “I’m not sure. But you do, right? I know I’ve seen a lot of thrillers in your book collection.”

She nods. “You are right.”

“Why is that? You’re such a Susie Sunshine. You always want everything to be happy and good for everyone. I would expect that you would prefer happy movies.”

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