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He gestures toward the bottle I’m holding. “What’s mine is yours. Go for it.” He scoops up his clothes, grabs his shoes, and heads for his room.
This gives me the chance to watch him and the muscles under his trousers, moving delightfully as he walks.
24
PETAL
He comes out minutes later,barefoot, in sweatpants and a long sleeve T-shirt, both of which cling nicely to the contours of his physique.
My hearts starts to race, which is really stupid, because he’s just wearing normal, everyday clothes that men everywhere relax at home in. But the truth is, I’ve never been around someone as buff as he is.
Or as goddamn gorgeous. Even the bump on his nose adds to his beauty.
Don’t stare. Don’t. Stare.
I grab the bottle and two wine glasses, and plop my ass on the sofa, trying my hardest to play it cool. If worse comes to worst, I guess, I can always fake a headache and run off to bed early.
I pick up the TV remote and blast through the variety of channels, not able to focus long enough to make a choice.
I’m giving away my nervousness. I know I am.
“Food will be here in ten minutes,” he says, taking the glass of wine I poured for him. “Hey. Here’s to us. And our marriage.”
I turn to look at him, which I really don’t need to do, that’s how close he’s sitting next to me, and clink my glass with his. “Yes. Here’s to marriage.”
He laughs and puts his hand out for the remote.
“Oh. You’re one of those guys,” I say, moving the remote to my other hand, the one that’s farthest from him.
He wrinkles his nose. “What kind of guy? What do you mean?”
I continue clicking the channels, now pretty much just to annoy him. “You know. The kind of guy who always has to be in charge of the remote.”
I finally find the Hallmark channel, and pull up a small-town romance, something about a doctor and nurse who can’t stand each other, who have to work together.
“Oh my God. Forced proximity.” I tuck the remote under my leg so he can’t get to it, and settle in.
“What? What the hell is forced proximity?” he asks.
I sigh deeply and put the show on pause, even though they’re still just doing the opening credits. “It’s a story about two people who are stuck together, who’d rather not be, and how they… figure things out.”
He leans forward on the sofa, forcing me to look at him.
“And… that’s a thing? Like, that’s popular?”
I turn the show back on and crank up the volume. Horrible intro music plays. Not that I let that stop me.
I nod. “Oh yes. Among romance stories, that’s one of the most popular types.”
The movie starts and I’m still looking at him. I don’t want to, but it’s like my eyeballs won’t obey my brain and move back to the TV where they belong.
“What are the other types of romance stories?” he asks.
I put the show on pause again. At the rate we’re going, it will take hours to get through the movie. Which is kind of my plan.
“There are so many. Age gap, grumpy boss, secret baby.”
He looks at me like I’m crazy. Luckily the intercom from the lobby rings and he gets up for the food. “I’ve never heard of any of that before. But you’re the expert, so I’ll take your word for it.”
