Her smile teased. “Why else?”
I shrugged. “Have fun. Drink. Dance. See new people.”
“I have all the fun I need right here. If I want to dance, I put on some music and jump around like an idiot to my heart’s content, not worrying about how terrible I am. As for new people? That’s what this magical glowing box is for.” She waved her fingers in the direction of the screen.
“How about actual humans? Other than your male model friends, I don’t think you talk to anyone else.”
She shrugged and took another bite of her food. “I talk to Cat. And what are we doing right now?” She gestured with her fork from me to her. “I believe some might call this talking.”
I sat on the arm of the couch. “I mean with other people.”
“Other people suck sometimes. When’s the last time you stayed in?”
“Going out is my job.”
Her sauce-covered lips quirked up. “You mean to tell me, every single evening you go out, it’s for work?”
“Most of the time.”
She leveled her gaze at me.
“A lot of the time.”
An eyebrow lift.
“Fine, a couple times a week.”
She laughed and sank back into her seat. “You’re way too easy to break. If you were a spy, I’d have all the national security secrets in a matter of minutes.”
“Maybe you’re just good at seeing through my bullshit.” Maybe it was why she scared me so much. Getting close wasn’t something I was good at anymore. It wasn’t something I wanted to be good at. The risk of losing another person that I cared about banged in my chest. But it often felt like I didn’t have a choice with her. Fighting this got harder with every passing day.
“It’s only because I see you outside of the custom wool suits hand-woven on the rolling hills of New Zealand from sheep fed organic grass and given daily massages by the farmhands.”
“Why would it matter if the sheep are fed organic grass? Isn’t all grass organic?”
She shrugged. “That was the most outrageous part of what I said? You tell me. You’re the one who ordered it.”
“It’s Scottish wool, not New Zealand wool.”
“Well, soooorry.”
“What did you order?” I stepped closer to her spread and lifted one of the lids with my finger.
She smacked the back of my hand.
“It’s not yours.”
“Whose beer is that?”
Her eyes widened, and her shoulders rose. “Hey, Hunter, can I have one of your beers?” She called out like she was asking me while I was still in my bedroom.
I cupped my hands around my mouth attempting to throw my voice. “Maybe, if you share some beef and broccoli with me.”
She grumbled under her breath and nodded toward the plastic utensils in the bag still holding some of the containers.
“Did you invite someone else over? Why’d you order so much?”
“Nope, it’s for me. They were running a two-for-one special, so I stocked up for the week.”
“You do know this is packed with sodium.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll talk it over with Dr. Sean the next time I see him. I was sick of rice, beans, and grilled chicken, so sue me.”
“I can go grocery shopping.” I unbuttoned my jacket, shrugged it off, and draped it over the arm of the couch. I picked up the container, keeping it in the bag in case of leaks, and sat on the couch beside her.
On the screen a team of three were in a room traversing an obstacle course over a churning, bubbling floor of liquid that looked a lot like lava.
“Not the rocket. It tips,” she shouted as a man jumped onto the slippery foam rocket and pitched forward into the churning lava water, complete with a slo-mo descent into the depths and screams from his teammates.
“What is this?”
She pointed to the screen as the remaining teammate made it to the buzzer and slapped it, screaming out the show name. “The Floor Is Lava!”
“I don’t know why I’d have thought it was anything else.”
“I’m getting another beer. Did you want one?” Sabrina stood and walked past me. The curves of her hips and thighs were right at eye level.
Straining my neck muscles to keep my gaze locked onto hers, I nodded and choked out a “sure.”
I set down my food and ran my hands over my face. Get a grip, Hunter. Five more minutes. I’d stay and drink half my beer and then leave.
She came back in and handed over the beer just in time for the next episode to start.
“Oh, new room.” She lifted the bottle to her lips. They wrapped around the opening, and her bottom lip glistened when she pulled the bottle away again and pressed her lips together.
Wisps of hair danced around her face, slowly drying. The world faded away. The TV, the cold glass sweating in my hand.
She sat beside me with her legs crossed and settled into the couch, her gaze riveted to the screen. The laughs and winces played out across her whole face. The amusement lit up her eyes and flushed her cheeks, making her look like she’d just walked in from the November air.
Her gaze flicked to mine and she smiled. It was like the one I’d envisioned when I walked in. Then she looked to the box sitting on the table. “Jerk! You ate all my beef and broccoli.”
The captivation spell ended. I ripped my gaze away from her.
“Says the woman drinking all my beer.”
“Not all your beer. There’s still one or two left.”
“You owe me.” I’d have liked to collect the debt by taking her to my bedroom all over again. By peeling off her sweats, jerking her t-shirt up over her head, and crawling between her legs with her heels digging into my back while I sampled her like I hadn’t had a chance to last time.
“How about I share one of my fortune cookies with you and we call it even?” She dangled the cellophane-wrapped cookie in front of me like it was a crown jewel.
Not exactly what I had in mind. “Maybe.”
She flung the cookie at me.
It hit me center chest.
Her yelp drew my attention. She cupped her nonexistent junk when a guy slipped and landed hard on a bar in the game, which seemed strategically placed for the exact perfect nut shot. I got secondhand nausea and hunched over a little.
Another episode ended.
“Do you need to go, or did you want another drink?”
I got up to block her move to the kitchen. “No, I’ve got time and I’ll make the drinks to save the last of my beers from your grubby little paws.”
“Your beer or your booze, I’m good with either.” She laughed and leaned back with both arms propped behind her head.
My blood hammered in my veins. I wanted to dive onto the couch and climb on top of her, pin those arms above her head, and attack the spot on her neck where her hair brushed against her skin. I wanted to kiss the lips that had entranced me all night with her laughter and quips. I wanted her.
Shaking my head, I turned and walked into the kitchen.
After mixing us drinks, I walked back in.
“Were you juicing the blackberries yourself? Hurry up.” She waved me forward.
And I nearly stumbled. “You waited for me?”
“Of course.” She wiggled her fingers in my direction, grabbing for her glass. “These shows aren’t nearly as fun to watch alone. Sit.” She patted the spot beside her.