He’d taken enough ribbing in his life over not seeing colorsright, but she seemed honestly curious. And for once, he found himself on the laughing side. “Nah, I just root for whoever doesn’t haveNorth Texasscrawled over their helmets.”
“Oh. That makes sense.”
“I’m a right smart one.”
She crunched into another chip, and he didn’t mind listening to that at all. Play continued in the game, and he leaned close enough to her to smell her hair. Smelled pretty.
And a bit like grass.
“So,” she said, “how’s a guy who grew up in Auburn end up going to school at Bama and getting a tiger paw tattoo, but live to tell the tale?”
She was a right smart one too, sneaking that in there. “You learn not to talk about it.”
She tilted her head back and peered up at him. A commercial came on. He paused the game and took the plates into the kitchen, wondering if it was his imagination or if she was giving him a dirty look for avoiding the question.
He decided it was his imagination, because that had this evening ending better than her giving him dirty looks. Once he slid the plates into the sink, he went digging in his drawer for a spatula to serve the pie with, but came up empty. “Anna Grace, you know where my pie server is?”
“When’s the last time you used it?” She popped into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. Her shorts had a few stains he guessed had come from her tumble earlier, but he didn’t reckon he needed to point that out. Still, she didn’t seem bothered at all, so that was a good sign their symbiotic relationship could survive his avoiding a question or two.
He scratched his head. “Don’t remember.”
“If it’s not in the drawer, I’d check your dishwasher.”
She seemed to get a kick out of knowing his kitchen better than he knew it himself. He pulled the dishwasher door open and about jumped out of his skin.
His bronze armadillo stared up at him from the depths of his dishwasher.
“Oh, hey, Enrique,” Anna said. Her lips quivered like she was barely keeping it in, but since she crossed the kitchen to bend over and pat his armadillo, putting her that much closer to him, he’d give her this one. “How’s it going? Oh, look. Pie server.”
She lifted it out and smiled at him with all the innocence of a woman. He took the utensil, set it on the counter, and kicked the dishwasher shut. He closed the small gap between them. “You having fun, Anna Grace?” he asked, slipping his hands to those hips that were getting some curve back.
Speaking of curves, there went her lips too, all full of sass and some intentions he could get on board with. “I am, thank you.” Her fingers slid up his arms and her bare calf brushed his, leaving him wondering how he managed to find near about the perfect woman.
Watched football, ate cold chicken, didn’t want commitment.
“But that was awful mean of you to leave Enrique in the dishwasher,” she said.
“You want an audience?”
She shivered against him, but since she leaned closer, he took the shiver as a mark in his favor. “Maybe not.”
Her lashes flirted with her cheeks. Her fingers had walked up his arm and shoulder to do something to the back of his neck that he was enjoying in other parts of his body too. He ran his fingers through that soft, pretty hair, then nudged her head closer to his. A hint of a smile teased at those soft lips. He brushed them with his own.
She angled closer. He took his time enjoying all that soft skin and warm mouth. He did love a good long kiss with a kissable woman. He liked those little noises she made too, the way her leg crept up his, how she pressed closer and closer even though his body had gone past gentlemanly about the time he’d started looking at her lips.
He found himself mighty glad she didn’t like biscuits. Mighty glad she was willing to share her pie with him too.
He was thinking about giving in to those little hints she was dropping about where she wanted his hands to go when AC/DC exploded out of his phone on the counter.
Wasn’t often Mamie irritated him, but either her timing was bad, or she knew he was sampling a Yankee’s biscuits. Frustrated the heck out of him to pull away. “Sorry, Anna Grace. This one’s important.”
She took a shaky breath. “Okay. But I’ll be here. You know. When you’re done.”
Just like that, she had him smiling again. “Pretty sure I can find you.”
He snagged the phone and took himself behind the kitchen and into his bedroom. If he could get the bed cleared off and keep Anna focused on kissing him until they got there, he figured he had a sixty-five-percent chance. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Sugarplum, I’ve been—you got a girl over there?”
