Page 37 of A Magnolia Move-In
I nodded. “But who’s to say that the bartender really saw the uncle? I’ve been to bars. They aren’t known for their great lighting.”
He paused. “True.”
Our gazes returned to the screen.
“I still say it’s the husband. He had the most to gain.”
“Wanna bet on it?” I pinched my lips after the question left my mouth. What was I doing? Was I flirting?
I shook my head. No, I wasn’t flirting. After all, I was supposed to interview him. If I could get that out of our exchange, then I was technically working.
“Bet?” He turned his attention to me.
“Yeah. If I’m right, I get something. If you’re right, you get something.” I flicked my finger back and forth between us.
He narrowed his eyes. “What would you want?”
“Nothing crazy,” I said with a shrug.
He was quiet and then nodded. “Fine.” He extended his hand.
A wave of giddiness washed through me, and I moved to grasp his hand. We shook and then settled back in our chairs.
Fifteen minutes later, the host declared that the husband was the killer. Spencer whooped and turned to me with a wide smile on his lips. He wiggled his eyebrows. “I told you,” he said in a tone that I hadn’t ever heard from him.
He truly was a different guy.
I raised my hands as I pushed out the thought that he was really good-looking when he smiled. “What do you want for your win?”
He grew silent as he studied me. Then he said, “Keep your evening open tomorrow. I want to take you somewhere.”
I paused for a moment, my heart picking up speed. Was this a…date?
Then I felt like an idiot. It wasn’t a date. He probably wanted to take me somewhere so I could help him with something. I doubted he wanted to spend time with me.
“Okay,” I said slowly and then motioned toward the TV. “That’s how he got her into the woods to murder her.” I pretended to look terrified.
Spencer glanced toward the TV and then back to me. “Well…” he said, drawing out each letter. But then he shook his head. “I promise not to kill you.”
“That’s what her husband said,” I replied, dropping my voice to a whisper.
He chuckled as he moved to stand. After grabbing his plate, he walked toward me. My stomach shifted as nerves took hold of my body. What was he doing?
My anxiety grew too strong, and I stood up just as his hand reached down for my plate. “I can do that,” I said, moving to grab my plate.
My hand brushed against his. It took a moment to process, but I suddenly realized that I was standing centimeters from Spencer. His body was so close to minethat I could almost feel him. My hand felt frozen next to his as we both lingered just above the plate.
“I’ve got this,” he said, his voice so low that it sent shivers of pleasure down my back.
His words snapped me out of my trance. I pulled back and stepped to the side to give myself space. If he was affected by my presence, he didn’t show it. It was business as usual as he reached down and stacked his plate on mine.
Once he disappeared into the kitchen with the dishes, I collapsed back on my chair, my heart pumping so hard that it felt as if it was going to beat out of my chest. I closed my eyes and steadied my breathing, hoping it would calm my nerves.
Needing something to do, I pushed against the chair and focused on packaging up the leftover food. I set the white containers in the bag and then folded over the top. I stood and made my way toward the kitchen only to be stopped in my tracks when Spencer stepped in front of me.
“I can take that,” he said as he gently lifted the bag out of my hands. His arms brushed mine once more, and goosebumps erupted across my skin.
“Thanks,” I managed. As much as I wanted to pull my gaze from Spencer, I couldn’t help but watch as he moved across to the fridge and opened it.
