Another knock came at the door, and her shoulders tightened. When she opened it, Knox stood there, wearing jeans and a black T-shirt with theGhostbusterslogo. In his arms was a paper bag from Fairway Market.
“Come on in,” she said. “I love your shirt.”
“Thanks. I got it at that vintage place on Johnson Street.” He kicked off his sneakers and set the bag next to the coffee table. “I also brought some snacks, though it looks like you’ve got that covered.”
She flushed, fully aware she might have gone overboard. Laid out on the table was a pitcher of ice-cold lemonade, a platter of homemade chocolate chip cookies, and a bowl of freshly popped popcorn, drizzled with butter. “In my opinion, you can never have too many snacks.”
“I feel the same way. That popcorn smells incredible.” He took out a jumbo pack of Twizzlers, a bag of Sour Patch kids, and another bag of Nestlé miniature chocolate bars.
Had he remembered her sweet tooth? Or did he just love candy as much as she did? “Awesome. Now we’ll feel like we’re at the movies.”
He stuck his hands in his pockets, as if unsure what to say next, and cast his gaze around her apartment. “Cute place.”
It was only six hundred square feet, but she’d put every inch of it to good use, filling it full of potted plants, bookshelves, and funky accent pieces, like a fuchsia shag rug, a sunshine-yellow armchair, and a gooseneck lamp with multicolored shades. In one corner was her portable keyboard, which had been gathering dust since Christmas.
“Thanks,” she said. “I know it’s strange to still be living with my parents, but…”
“No, I get it. Rent in Victoria is ridiculously expensive. It’s gotten almost as bad as Vancouver.” He walked over to one wall, which held a series of shadow boxes filled with quirky little toys, some dating back to the 1950s. “This is so cool. Where’d you get all these things?”
“Mostly from flea markets or Etsy. My granny started the collection, and when she went into assisted living, she gave it to me. I like adding to it.” She loved seeking out new treasures—small china figures, glass animals, tiny dolls, and miniature dollhouse furniture.
“I sometimes hit up flea markets on the weekends,” he said. “Now that I know what you collect, I’ll keep an eye out for that stuff.”
“Thank you.” His comment was so thoughtful it took her aback. Feeling slightly flustered, she gestured to the couch. “Should we get started?”
“Sounds good.” He settled himself at one end of it and reached for the pitcher. “Do you want a glass of lemonade?”
“Yes, please. And help yourself to the cookies. I made them this morning.”
As she joined him on the couch, she caught the faint hint of cedar and citrus and wondered if he used a special beard grooming oil. Taking a deep, calming breath, she willed herself to relax. But it was hard to play it cool when he was sitting right beside her, his broad frame taking up so much space. He was so close she could easily reach over and touch him.
Not that she would. This was a get-together between two colleagues. If she wanted more from him, she’d have to build up to it.Slowly. Which made her feel more like an awkward teenager than a grown woman. But she didn’t want to risk anything that would make him retreat into his grumpy shell.
“I did a little research intoCanada’s Most Haunted,” she said. “It’s been around for five seasons, but I planned to start us off with the first episode of season one.”
Knox passed her a glass of lemonade. “That works for me.”
She took the glass and handed him a black composition book and a ballpoint pen. “I also got us each a notebook so we could jot stuff down.” Even as she said it, she knew she sounded nerdy. Like they were students working on a group project.
He took it from her and set it on his lap. “Let me guess, you were a straight A student?”
“Um…yeah. Kind of.”
There was no “kind of” about it. She’d always excelled in school, mostly because her parents had expected nothing less.
“Same here. Except for chem.” He offered up a grin. “I hated all those formulas.”
Interesting. She filed that tidbit away in the portion of her brain reserved for facts about Knox. He doled them out so sparingly that she treasured them as if they were tiny gems.
Once the show started, she did her best to keep her eyes on the screen. But she couldn’t resist sneaking a few glances at him. Though she’d always been aware of his height—he was almost a foot taller than she was—he was usually standing behind the bar, so the difference wasn’t as noticeable. Seated on her couch, he looked so solid. Like he could wrap her up in a giant bear hug or pick her up in his arms with little effort.
Focus.If she wanted to know what to expect from the show, she needed to pay attention.
By the end of the first episode, she was able to relax. She even giggled at a few of Knox’s snarky comments. Not that she blamed him, since some of the “evidence” the paranormal investigators found looked dubious at best. Like, was that really an otherworldly orb floating by the window, or was it the reflection from a passing car? Was that figure on the road a spectral vision or a random cow?
After three hours, her interest started waning. When Knox suggested breaking for the evening, she turned off the TV. She tried not to ogle him when he stood up, though she couldn’t help noticing the way his T-shirt revealed his sturdy biceps and the tattoos on his upper arms. Or the way the dark fabric stretched across his brawny frame.
Down, girl. No staring.
