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It’s a perfect movie.
And if life imitated art, I’d be falling in love with the hot nerdy scientist sitting next to me. Because he’s even hotter and nerdier than Cary Grant. But he doesn’t do relationships. Apparently, that’s a deal breaker for doing anything else. An immovable rock. A friend, just like Mallory, labeled him.
It’s why I’m not expecting it when he reaches over and clasps my hand in his. I’m so surprised that I forget to breathe for nearly a minute. A dribble of sweat makes its way down my neck and into my shirt. I’m aware of my hand trembling in his, and I hope he can’t feel it.
I’ve never been so grateful to have already seen a movie because I’m not paying attention to any of it now. KatherineHepburn could end up married to the leopard by the end of the movie and I wouldn’t know the difference.
How can holding someone’s hand make me feel like my entire body has been invaded by twirling butterflies and tiny beams of light? It’s such a basic gesture, yet I can’t even recall whether the previous men I dated ever did it.
Maybe that’s exactly it. We were too casual, too focused on hooking up and having fun to let anything resembling a feeling enter the mix.
And now…I have all the feels. And I like it.
Heaven help me.
For the remainder of the movie, it feels like a forcefield exists between us. Pulling us closer and warning us away at the same time.
I walk out of there more exhausted than if I’d climbed Mount Kilimanjaro in a day. I wanted to haul myself into Colin’s lap and move to the farthest edge of my seat. I wanted him, and I was afraid of where wanting him would lead.
Because if he felt the same way, it would be explosive. There’s no question in my mind.
“We should get back,” I mumble, turning the key in the ignition. I suddenly feel exposed in the late summer light after my near certainty that Colin was about to kiss me in the movie theater. I cast him a side-eye when I can afford to take my gaze off the road and find his eyes on me. Nothing abashed about it. He’s staring.
I’m a little hesitant to take Colin to a dinner place in town because now I’m convinced we’ll run into more locals. Even ifthey’re not equipped with selfie sticks, gossip will still fly, and neither of us needs that.
“This has been a great day. What are you doing tomorrow?”
“I, um…” Words lodge in my throat because we haven’t talked about anything beyond this one favor he’s asked me to do. One day of “normal.”
“I have a family dinner with my brothers and Beatrix. It’s kind of a Sunday tradition thing.”
“Sounds nice.”
“You should come. The family would love to see you, and you have to eat.” I try to sound casual. Anyone would do the same under the circumstances: invite an old family friend to join us for dinner. It’s not because being around himdoesthings to me.
But it’s also that. And I want him to do more of them.
“Yeah?” His expression brightens at the invitation. “Should I check with Arch?”
“No. You should just come. I’ll let Dash know to set an extra place.”
He shouldnotcome to dinner.
If there’s any hope in hell of me getting over what is surely a raging lady boner crush on this man, having him come to dinner will foil every last bit of that hope.
“I’ll mention it to Archer, but he’ll be excited to have you. You’re practically family.”Family. As in practically a brother. Only a hot one I’d like to fuck.The words spill from my mouth as though it’s sprung a leak. I have no business inviting him to dinner. That’s Archer’s domain since they’re besties and all. But I have gone batshit crazy, and all I can think about is how to concoct a way to see him tomorrow.
I don’t want to leave my fate to chance and hope he happens to walk by my front door when I happen to be leaving for work.
But really, he shouldn’t come to dinner. It will take all my wherewithal to sit across a table from him and not openly stare. I already know it’s going to be a problem.
Chapter
Thirteen
Colin
I should get a fucking medal. Right up there with the Purple Heart for bravery or the Nobel Prize for Not Fucking a Guy’s Best Friend’s Much Younger Sister in a Movie Theater. Pretty sure that award exists. It should be a nationally sanctioned prize telling everyone I am a man of spectacular self-restraint.
