I sat back to ponder that question. “I haven’t really thought about the house itself, more the setting. I’d love to have some land. I have a loft right now that I really like, but it’s not ideal for my dog.”
“What kind of dog do you have?”
“A German shepherd. I’ve had him since he was about a year and a half.” I refrained from mentioning why I’d gotten Kodi in the first place.
“Okay, so some land for your dog…”
I nodded. “Land, a place to paint, but I think it’s the feel of a place and the people inside it that matter.”
“I agree,” he murmured. “Another beer?” he offered.
I shook my head. “I’m driving Lily home.”
“Wingwoman and designated driver. Damn you are a good friend.”
“Guess so,” I agreed with a smile. “So, how do you know the guy who lives here?” I asked, marveling again at the expansive property.
“We’re old friends.” He shrugged.
“You’re very evasive,” I accused lightly.
“Am I?” he replied. “I don’t mean to be. What do you want to know?”
I thought carefully about that, biting my lip in thought.
His hand snaked out, carefully pulling my lower lip out from my teeth’s clutches. “Careful,” he murmured, his eyes growing darker as they locked on my mouth.
I blushed crimson, looking away from his heated stare.
“You don’t get just one question, you know,” he said, his mood lightening as I continued to ponder.
“Favorite movie?” I asked, starting with something relatively simple.
“Weekend at Bernie’s,” he answered without hesitation.
I wrinkled my nose. “Ew, really? I think I just lost a little respect for you.”
“What?” he demanded. ‘That’s a fucking great movie.”
“Whatever,” I muttered, enjoying our banter. I felt so comfortable with him, and I was bone-crushingly, devastatingly attracted to him. That was certainly new.
“Fine, what’s your favorite?” he asked.
“I thought it was my turn to ask the questions?” I countered.
“I bet it’s some romantic comedy,” he guessed, though it seemed like he was just trying to goad me. How he already knew how to do that surprised me.
I rolled my eyes and heaved out a sigh. “I like really cheesy horror movies,” I admitted.
“Are we talking likeSharknado?” he asked with a smirk.
“A classic,” I confirmed resolutely. I liked other genres, but the camp horror movies were the ones I found myself watching again and again.
“And you’re giving me shit aboutWeekend at Bernie’s?” he demanded in mock outrage.
“Alright, fine, to each their own and all that,” I admitted begrudgingly.
He leaned back and laughed, hard. If it wasn’t such a gorgeous sight, it would be seriously annoying,
