Austin frowned again. “Let’s get you inside.”
“Wait,” I said, trying to pull my hands from his. He just held them tighter. “What are you doing here?”
“Babe.” He looked at me like I was touched in the head. “I’m bringing you your car.”
“I feel like you and I are having a huge failure to communicate,” I grumbled.
He waved his hand toward my apartment. “Let’s talk inside.”
“You’re coming inside?”
“Not talkin’ to you out here in the cold.” He gave me his sexy smile. “’Course, we don’t have to talk at all. Up to you.”
I let out a quiet huff. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
“Come on. Let’s get you warm,” he said.
I had a feeling he wasn’t going to leave, so I nodded and led him upstairs. Unlocking the door, I stepped inside and turned on the light. Austin closed and locked the door behind us and I shrugged out of my coat. He threw his jacket on the chair by the television, but kept his vest on.
“Why don’t you talk like a thug?” I blurted out.
He chuckled. “I’m sorry?”
“Nothing. Just ignore me.” I dropped my purse on the chair by the door. “Do you want some wine?”
“Got beer?”
“Um, maybe. I’ll look.” I stepped into the kitchen to see if Elliot had left anything the last time he’d come for dinner. I pushed the milk to the side and found three bottles of my brother’s favorite Portland brew, hoping Austin would like it. I grabbed one, opened it, and then poured the last of the red I’d been drinking over the past few days into a glass.
I walked back into the living room to find Austin lounging on my sofa, his booted feet up on my coffee table, television remote in his hand, flipping through stations and looking like he owned the place. He smiled at me and reached out his hand to take the beer. “Thanks, babe.”
I handed him the bottle and shook my head as I sat in the chair next to the sofa.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
He patted the cushion next to him. “Come here.”
“Um, no, I’m good right here. Thanks,” I said, and sipped my wine.
“Babe, come here.”
“No.”
He dropped his feet to the floor and he twisted to face me. “No?”
I nodded and then shook my head.
Austin grinned, setting his beer on the coffee table and rising to his feet. He took my wine and set it next to his beer.
“What are you doing?” I asked, leaning back as though I could achieve some space. Silly me.
He reached down, sliding one arm under my knees and one behind my back, lifting me like I weighed no more than a small child, and sitting back on the sofa, me in his lap.
“Austin?” I squeaked.
“Yeah, babe.”
