“No sexy pajamas? Damn. It was the one thing I was really looking forward to seeing.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
HARRISON
Iwas a bastard. I knew it, accepted it, and made no attempt to ease Becca’s discomfort. Her blush was cute, and her already large eyes widened as she bit down on her full bottom lip. While I meant to flirt and fluster her, the image of her in black lace was a practical way to warm up.
Her long hair spread out over the sheets, her ample breasts bare for me…Shit. I coughed into my fist and tilted my head, still not saying a word. It took her a full minute to speak, and it was worth it.
“I only wear my sexy stuff on date three,” she deadpanned.
“Why not the first date?” I prompted, my mind going to the images I’d created in my head that had no business being there.
She blinked a couple of times and ran a hand over her throat. “Because most of my dates never get to a second or third, and at some point, I stopped trying.”
I fall into that category.
“Ah.”
Becca snorted at my one syllable response and glanced outside, a line appearing between her eyebrows. I waited for her to mention our date or the fact I’d never called even though I’d said I would. I tensed, searching for the right words that would make it better, but she didn’t mention it. I was really in the doghouse with her.
Sighing, she tilted her head to the side, shaking it a little. “My mom is one of the most loving people in the world, but she’s a little wacko about me finding a man. She means well, but because she loves me so much, she thinks that having a kid is the only way to have happiness. I disagree with her.”
“I see.”I didn’t.“So that’s why you were talking about sexy pajamas?”
She shot me a goofy smile and nodded. “Exactly. No time like subzero temperatures to seduce my neighbor.” She snorted again. “Obviously, I’m kidding. But I swear, she sets me up on these dates with weenies.”
“How would you define aweenie, exactly?” I sat on the edge of the couch to be closer to her. It was uncharacteristic of me to ask all these questions, but something about her intrigued me. Maybe it was the way her lips moved when she spoke or how she couldn’t keep her hands still and gestured for everything. Or maybe it was her ridiculous use of the wordweenie.
She raised both hands and made circular motions. “You know, like… ‘Why’s a girl like you single?’ Or, ‘Should we really get dessert here rather than at my place?’ Or, maybe my favorite: when they ask a question only to answer it themselves. I once went on this date with this schmuck who asked about my favorite vacation. I told him a trip to Florida, and before I could even finish two sentences, he decided to tell me in minute detail about his trip abroad in Paris.”
“So, assholes?”
“Hmm, some were, some weren’t. An asshole isn’t always the worst because I at least know what I’m getting into. The passive aggressive, quiet jerks are worse. The ones who think they’re different than the other jerks when really, they’re disguising their jerk-ery.” She sighed and shrugged. “The ones who make empty promises are their own type of monster.”
She eyed me, and we both knew she was thinking about me and our date. I opened my mouth, hoping inspiration would hit me when I tried talking, but she bounced up off the bed and headed to the kitchen. “What’s our food situation? I’m hungry.”
While I could be a dick, I wasn’t an idiot. She’d clearly avoided bringing up our date directly, and I would follow her lead. My muscles relaxed at her change of direction because I wasn’t sure what to say. Words and communication were already hard for me, and owning up to a decision I made two years ago was difficult. There wasn’t a good reason I could give her that would ease her mind, and she deserved more. Saying nothing was better.
I glanced at my watch. It was only 5:00 p.m. but it would be best if we ate earlier rather than later. Once it got dark, I wanted to bunker down. “We can make some grilled cheese.”
“Oh, that sounds good.” She shuffled through the fridge and pulled out the ingredients. She held them up, showing me, and did a little wiggle with her body. “And you have ham! Hot damn!”
Goofy. She was so goofy. “Glad you’re happy about it.”
“Did you know a grilled cheese with ham is called a bikini? I’ll show you once it’s cooked, but you have to cut them into triangles. They look like the little part of the swimsuit, you know, that covers the lady parts.” She smiled to herself and stopped, glancing at me with those damn wide eyes again. “I don’t know why I told you that.”
“I’m not upset about it.” I chuckled and took the food from her. “I’ll make them but only if you tell me why the hell you know that.”
“Are you sure? I can cook a mean grilled cheese. It’s actually one of my best talents. It’s all about the butter; plus, youdidmake breakfast for us.”
“I like cooking, and it’s nice not having to do it for one.”
The second the words left my mouth, the weight of how true they were hit me. I was always alone if I wasn’t at the stadium or in the gym. I preferred it that way, but this was a nice change.
“Now, the bikini story, please.” I pointed the cooking utensil at her, and she plopped down at the table. I’d like to think she’d be this interesting even if we weren’t stuck together in a house with terrifying weather conditions.
“I really wanted to study abroad in Barcelona when I was in high school. Like, I would buy all these maps of Spain to start learning all the different parts of it. Barcelona is actually in Catalonia, and I read everything I could get my hands on to prepare for the possibility of moving there. I didn’t want to be some idiot American without a clue. I’m already blond, and don’t know a lick of Spanish, so it wouldn’t have been a good look. So I discovered little things, like the bikini fact or that they still have siestas every day! Could you imagine having a set nap time in our society?”
