Page 145 of Worth the Trip

“’Cause I want to.”

I looked at him.

He looked back.

No philosophy attached.

I ate the crab.

That man was learning.

Or maybe I was.

Conversation moved easily between us. Books. Football. My shop. Lennox’s absolute commitment to drinking inappropriate beverages from stemware. Landon told me his mother had hidden the last quarter of her butter pecan behind frozen vegetables because nobody in the house willingly looked there. When dinner disappeared, he cleared the containers and returned with two slices of dark chocolate cheesecake.

I looked at mine. “Bribe?”

“I don’t buy truth. I believe it deserves dessert.”

“That sounded rehearsed.”

“It sounded brilliant.”

“You ordered dinner before I agreed to spend the night.”

“I was hopeful.”

“Confident.”

“Hopeful.”

“You knew I was coming.”

“I knew what I wanted.”

The distinction stayed with me.

He sat beside me again, thigh against mine, one arm stretched along the sofa. I ate a bite of cheesecake and caught him staring.

“You staring.”

“I know.”

“Most people deny it.”

“I’m not most people.”

“That degree damaged your humility.”

“I came like this.”

I laughed. Chocolate must have stayed near my mouth because Landon reached over and caught it with his thumb, then put his thumb in his own mouth.

I stared.

He smiled.

“You have your own cheesecake.”