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No.
“Chase…I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”
“Nope. You don’t get to do that. My turn. What’s your story? Why no boyfriend?”
Great. Why did I pry? “Just not my thing.”
“Wrong answer. I’d threaten to get up and walk away, but I’m not going anywhere, so spill, Angel.”
Damn him for throwing my own antics back at me.
“I’m waiting.”
“I had a boyfriend. We were in love. He asked me to marry him. That same night, he died in a motorcycle accident.” He inhales sharply, sympathy dancing in his eyes. Exactly what I didn’t want. “We’re not playing that card, are we? I don’t need any of that. It was a long time ago. And I promised I would never put myself in a vulnerable position to get hurt the way I did. That promise still stands.”
He stares at me for a few more beats then nods. “I’m not a fan of your puppy dog eyes either. Let’s just make a deal that there’s no need to feel sorry for one another. I’ll stop looking at you like I want to hug you, and you can stop looking at me like you want to rip my clothes off and make me feel all better.”
Oh my god. “Okay, buddy. Whatever you say. But you’ve got a deal. I don’t feel sorry for you at all, so don’t feel sorry for me.”
He sticks his hand out. I do the same, and we shake on it.
Chapter 10
Chase
Remind me again why I offered to have her stay with me?
Because you don’t want to let her out of your sight. Correct. Also, there was no way I was allowing her to be any closer to her creeper boss. The problem is, I failed to mention I lived in a complete bachelor pad. And the maid is off this weekend. She also doesn’t exist.
Unlocking my door, I hurry inside, snatching a pair of socks hanging over my couch and an empty beer bottle on the end table. “Um…yeah, so, it’s a bit messy. I was going to clean but…yeah…”
My eyes bulge, and I practically dive over the couch and shove the Cosmopolitan magazine under my shirt. “Sorry. Not mine. I’ll…uh, be right back. Make yourself at home. Gonna—be right back.” I snag a few more articles of clothing and some trash and throw myself into the kitchen. “Shit.” I dump the empty beer cans and magazine in the garbage. I take a whiff of the socks and decide to toss them too. “Jesus, what was I thinking? Hey, idiot, maybe invite the girl over after you’ve cleaned your place and gotten rid of the beer and chick mags.”
“Are you talking to me?” she calls from the living room.
Shit! “Uh…no.” Get ahold of yourself, Steinberg. “Just getting us some drinks.” Drinks. I whip open my fridge. What are the chances she likes beer? Or expired milk? Those are her only options. I go with a beer.
I walk back out, two beers in hand, and find her seated on my couch. She looks at ease, which I fucking love. It helps take away some of my own nerves. I snag a seat next to her.
“Did you want a beer?” I stretch my arm out to hand her one.
“No thanks. I’m good.”
I reach back. Shit. Maybe expired milk was the better bet. “Yeah. Me either.” I place them on the coffee table. “So, what do you feel like watching?” We both reach for the remote. She makes it before me. As she points it to turn my TV on, a small bead of sweat forms. What was the last thing I watched last night? There’s a good chance it’s sports. There’s also a small chance the last thing I was streaming was porn. Come on! I have this girl on my mind nonstop. A man has needs!
“I don’t care. Let’s see what’s on.”
Don’t be porn. Don’t be porn.
The screen lights up, reminding me exactly what I paused it on just before I fell asleep. Great.
In slow motion, I watch her press play.
“I—I don’t know who—”
“Is this…is this Twilight?”
I wish I had a different answer. “Yeah…not sure how. Who watches that shit?”
She smirks and turns up the volume. “Sure. You spilled the beans like a little girl the first night I met you. You were for sure watching this. Let me guess...” She goes into my guide. Dammit! “Knew it! Saved to favorites.” My childish frown doesn’t match her humorous grin. “Man, I have to ask, are you Team Edward or Team Jacob?”
“Thought you haven’t seen it?”
“I haven’t. But it doesn’t take a genius to know the characters. People were obsessed with it for years.”
“See! I mean, it was okay—”
A knock has my head snapping toward the door. Who the hell?
“Uh…are you going to get that?”
Hell no. “It’s probably the wrong apartment. People get them mixed up all the—”
