She blinked up at me. “I’m not sure which of those is more surprising.”
I snagged another handful of popcorn before continuing. “Let’s just say my sisters are a lot more gregarious than I am. There was never really an opportunity to be the center of attention, so I sort of just . . . disappeared into the background.”
Understanding dawned on her face. “And business school?”
“Just trying to live up to familial expectations, I guess.”
“Classic.”
“Believe me,” I told her around a mouthful of popcorn. “I would have made a shitty analyst.”
That was an understatement. Unlike Nellie or my sister, Char, my brain didn’t adequately process black and white. There was a reason I photographed in color.
“Well, it all worked out for the best,” she said definitively. “You make one hell of a photographer.”
“Thank you.”
She held my gaze for another second or two before turning back to the movie. There was no missing the way she squirmed in her seat, adjusting the thighs that I longed to feel wrapped around my waist. There was a certain comfort in knowing that she was just as affected as I was.
Feeling suddenly emboldened, I feigned a stretch and wrapped an arm around her seat, resting it on her shoulders.
“Smooth,” she said, eyes still focused on the screen.
“I thought so.”
Her rumble of laughter vibrated against my side, right where she belonged.
There was no talking after that. Instead, we spent the next hour or so chowing down on popcorn while watching Bruce Willis take down terrorists. By the time we descended the stairs to the balcony hand in hand, Nellie had shifted gears from convincing me thatDie Hardwas a Christmas movie to arguing that Alan Rickman was sexier than Bruce Willis.
“You’re absolutely insane,” I told her. “In what world is Alan Rickman hotter?”
“You clearly know nothing about the feminine gaze.”
We had just cleared the bottom step when she stopped. The color drained from her face, along with the fun, flirty attitude I had come to know so well over the past couple of weeks.
“Nellie, what is it?”
“Tabitha, hello,” she said, forcing a smile.
I turned to find a tall blonde woman standing behind me. She was an imposing figure in her mid-forties, maybe, wearing a pristine pantsuit that was far too formal for a night at the movies. Her sleek hairstyle and impeccable posture were the picture-perfect definition of class. She reminded me of my sister, in the worst way possible.
“Janelle,” she said curtly. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
“Likewise.”
“It’s my stepson’s birthday.Die Hardis his favorite movie.”
Nellie nodded but said nothing. In the time we had known each other, I had never seen her scared silent, and truth be told, I didn’t like it one bit.
Tabitha relinquished the death grip on her designer purse and gestured to me. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your—”
“Neighbor,” Nellie finished, quickly releasing my hand from hers. “This is my neighbor, Austin.”
Neighbor. Got it.
She might as well have built a picket fence between the two of us then and there. It might have been less painful.
“Nice to meet you.”
