Page 23 of Junkyard Dog

He handed a stack of bills to the woman, ignoring her obvious flirting for the umpteenth time that evening. “I’ll give you three choices,” he said, counting them down on his fingers. “One, we go to my place and watch a movie. Two, we go to your place and watch a movie. Three, I take you home, I go home, and I call you tomorrow for a lunch date. Which’ll it be?”

She swallowed the last of the lava cake, thinking over her options and debating just how far she was willing to let this date go. Shewasexhausted. And her brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders.

Sensing her hesitation, he leaned across the table. “When I say watch a movie, I mean we’re watching a movie.”

Hoping her relief wasn’t too evident on her face, she nodded. “How about my place? Max rigged my computer up to my TV so I can pretty much get anything on there.”

He stood up, holding his hand out for her. “You pick the genre, I pick the flick?”

*

Alex stretched hisarms across the back of Charlotte’s sofa and looked around the apartment as she cranked up the air-conditioning. “There’s a lot more pink in here than I expected.”

“I like pink,” she huffed, firing the computer screen to life and handing him the controls. “Pick something from the thrillers or horrors.”

He arched his neck back to watch her walk toward her bedroom before he began flipping through his options. Finding an old favorite, he paused the movie titles and continued to peruse the decor as a wary gray cat stared at him from the kitchen table. “I don’t think Marbles likes me,” he called out, narrowing his eyes at the old cat.

“I don’t think Marbles likesme,” she replied, her bedroom door opening. “She’s an angry ol’ girl. Want a beer?”

“Water’s good,” he muttered, refusing to look away from the cat until she finally blinked slowly and turned her head away.

Charlotte handed him a glass, crossing in front of him to sit at the far end of the sofa.

Damn.

Date-Charlotte had been smoking hot in her knee-high boots and black baby doll dress.

Post-Date-Charlotte was smoking hot in a well-worn oversized academy shirt and basketball shorts.

Watch the movie, horndog.

Forcing his attention to the screen, he ignored the view to his right, the sight of her legs drawn up onto the couch, exposing most of her thighs.

“What is it with you guys?” she suddenly grumbled, her feet pushing against his knee. “Spreading across the whole sofa like you’re establishing dominance.”

Pushing back against her, he grinned. “That’s precisely what we’re doing. Making ourselves as big as possible so no one messes with us.” He glanced over at the cat, who looked away instantly. “It’s a territorial thing.”

“Like pissing on a tree,” she muttered, tossing her legs onto his and returning her attention to the movie.

Tired Charlotte was apparently cranky Charlotte.

Halfway through the film, he refilled their waters and returned to see her sitting up, smiling at the television.

“I figured out the ending,” she proclaimed. “It’s all in his head.”

“Does this mean you want me to turn it off?” He laughed, setting the cups down and flopping back in his seat.

“Of course not. Now I get to see that I’m right. And I like to be right.”

His intentions had been so good. Had he been hooked to a lie detector back at the restaurant, he would have passed with flying colors. But those intentions were disappearing rapidly as he watched her lips turn up in a satisfied smirk.

“Hey,” he said, shifting in place to face her. “What are the chances of you booting my ass out of here if I said I wanted to kiss you?”

Her eyes locked on the television, she licked her lips. “I dunno,” she muttered. “I really like seeing how right I am, so if you interrupt that, you better be very, very good at it.”

Definitely a risk worth taking.

He leaned across the sofa, his hand brushing her hair back. “How about a compromise?” he offered, bringing his lips to her neck. When she kept her attention on the screen but tilted her head to give him better access, he ran his tongue lightly across her skin to her earlobe.

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