The kiss ended naturally, both of us breathless and panting.
“I still don’t know what a princess pancake is,” Kobe said, and I chuckled—they came easier and easier.
“You’ll find out.”
“I can’t wait.”
It was too early for bed, as much as I would have loved to make every excuse under the sun to drag Kobe upstairs and explore beyond the boundaries we’d erected the previous night. I had yet to get him fully naked and yearned for the press of his body against mine.
“Would you like to watch a movie?” I asked instead, needing more time to process.
“Sure. I hear Jim Carrey movies are your favorite. Might I suggestThe Mask?Dumb and Dumber?Ace Ventura?”
“Kobe Haven, if you subject me to any of those movies—”
“I’m kidding.Liar Liar?”
“How aboutDie Hard? It’s almost Christmas after all.”
He made a wounded sound, clutching his chest. “Oh god, you’re not one of those people who thinkDie Hardis a Christmas movie, are you?”
“Yes, and I will die on that hill.”
It seemed to take effort, but he held his hands up in supplication. “Fine.Die Hardit is.” As he sauntered to the couch, he coughed into his fist, “But it’s not a Christmas movie.”
“I don’t think this relationship is working,” I said, landing on the couch beside him. “We may have found our breaking point.”
Kobe offered a cheeky grin as he helped himself to the remote on the coffee table. “Admit it. I charm you.”
More than I ever expected, I mused.
Kobe foundDie Hardon one of the subscription services I poured way too much money into and hit Play. Despite loving the movie, I found myself less interested in the action on screen and more interested in the man beside me.
Halfway through the flick, Kobe hit Pause and shifted to face me. “I must be super fascinating. You haven’t stopped staring for almost an hour. Need I remind you that this movie was your suggestion?”
Embarrassed, I glanced into my empty tumbler, then to the still-framed picture on the TV screen. “You’re like a lottery scratch ticket, Kobe Haven.”
“I’m what?” He laughed. “Um, most scratch tickets are losers, Doc. What are you trying to say?”
I snorted unexpectedly and slapped a hand over my mouth. “Oh god. That’s not what I meant. It’s… a terrible analogy. Forget I said anything.”
“No, no. You have to explain yourself now. How am I a lottery ticket? I’ll be honest, I’ve dated a few guys, and I’ve been called a lot of things—not all positive—but no one has ever compared me to a scratch ticket. I’m baffled and mildly intrigued.”
I groaned and considered how to explain. “It’s stupid.”
“Try me.”
“Every time we’re together, I uncover new parts of Kobe Haven I didn’t know existed. You’re multifaceted, and that’s a compliment. You’re a talented detective, a charismatic dinner date who has questionable adventures in Mexico, and a bad relationship with tequila. You’re an old soul who croons to jazz. You’re shy and uncertain at times, then confident and verbose at others. You play dolls with toddlers you barely know. You foster boys with rough lives. You coach baseball and go camping inthe wilderness. Your heart is enormous, Kobe, and yet I get the sense your childhood was quite damaging and left you scarred. You’re constantly in motion, adapting to your surroundings without missing a beat. Every time we’re together, I scratch a bit more and uncover new layers of Kobe Haven I didn’t know existed.”
It was the stupidest analogy on the planet, and I had no idea why I’d called him a lottery ticket, but for all the shit I’d endured, Kobe’s sudden appearance in my life seemed fortuitous. If he wasn’t who he was—a man of strong opinions who wasn’t afraid to voice them—I would never have entertained more.
My compliments didn’t seem to land as I intended. The longer I spoke, the more subdued Kobe became. His easy smile melted into a frown.
“I’ve said something wrong.”
“No.”
He slumped on the couch, sliding his ass to the edge and kicking his sock-covered feet onto the coffee table. The glum expression remained. This was the injured, younger version of Kobe I’d seen on occasion. The dejected sixteen-year-old boy who never had anyone to guide him into adulthood. The mature detective was nowhere to be found.
