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“You think I’m going to blast the stereo and install a pole?”
“I wasn’t before,” he said reaching his hand back to cover the burning on his neck. “You just seem like Turbo would be your middle name and moving around ninety to nothing could wake the house .”
“Turbo?” she questioned, walking past him only to turn around and continue walking backward further into the living room.
“It’s a line of Porsches,” he replied shaking his head. “I’m sure you’ve heard all the Spyder, Turismo, Cayenne jokes growing up.”
“Sorry, nope, grew up in a smaller town outside Albuquerque, it was more about wanting to ride in a Porsche jokes,” she admitted with a less than innocent smile. “Internet wasn’t as prevalent and broke people don’t invest themselves in knowing model names for brands they will never own. Now if you want to talk about a duel overhead cam or increased torque when you go for a one fifty verses a two, I’m here for you.”
“Do you want to sit down?” Mike pointed toward the couch unsure exactly what was happening, but needing to pivot as he scanned the room quickly and saw a display of DVDs. “I was just going to make some popcorn and watch a movie. I love classic movies and it looks like at least one of the Creeks has the same affection.”
“Really didn’t think a Navy SEAL would have much time for movies?”
“Well, we all have our kryptonite when it comes to decompression. Mine is old movies. What is yours?”
“I love old movies as well.” Porsche tossed her purse on the coffee table and removed her coat, tossing it on the back of the couch as he went into the kitchen. The tight t-shirt she wore under the leather stretched across her chest making him catch himself for a moment trying his best not to take in the taper at her hips.
Part of him wondered if her words were true or she was a chameleon trained to adapt to her situation. Reading a room and responding to set a mark at ease. Especially since the woman had a body that could make even the boldest of men stutter.
“Guess we have something in common,” he said, trying to play into the game and sus out the real verses imagined. “What’s your favorite?”
“I’m a bit of a Hepburn fan,” she admitted. “Audrey and Katherine really for different reasons obviously. But is it wrong that I likeA Nun’s Story?”
“Um, no,” he said having no idea what movie she was talking about.
“Then again,Spencer’s MountainandMcClintockhave that quiet man completely in control vibe I shouldn’t like, but secretly do.”
“Let me make this popcorn and we’ll find something in all those DVDs over there.” Mike pointed to the tall book shelf full of movies, having been shamed enough to know the woman knew her shit. He’d expected her to sayCasablancaorGone With the Windsince society made both those pop culture famous with very few not knowing at least one quote from each.
Porsche wandered her way over to the DVDs, her finger tracing along the titles. He threw the bag of popcorn into the microwave hoping the sound and smell wouldn’t be enough to wake the others in the home. Syd had been a heavy sleeper before, but he noticed on the ride the slightest thing had her jolting awake with panic in her eyes.
“Do you want some water, juice or a soda?” he asked, opening the fridge. “I don’t see anything harder in here.”
“Not until Preacher Girl turns the water to wine,” Porsche replied flippantly. “I’ll take a bottle of water. Well would you look at this,An Affair to Remembermy absolute favorite non-Hepburn movie. You interested?”
It had been years since he’d watched the classic tale of shipboard romance gone awry and the sacrifices made from people hiding the truth. Could he watch that with Porsche? He hadn’t really been thinking about watching any movie, but romance?
“I was thinking of a Western, but sure that’s a great movie.” Holding his breath for a moment he tried to focus on the task at hand and not the fact he’d committed to watching one of the greatest romances ever shot with a sexy woman offering to keep him company.
“Westerns, where the men were men and the sheep were nervous,” she chided. “There’s only a handful of them I actually like.”
“McClintock, right, the comedy ones,” he pointed out.
“AndUnforgiven,the original and the one Clint did.”
“There’s more than oneUnforgiven?” he questioned, racking his brain and feeling as if he were band wagon fan when it came to classics compared to Porsche.
“Hepburn fan,” she rang out, plucking the DVD from the shelf and getting the movie set up to play. “One of the lesser knowns of Audrey. I’m not a savant or anything, just watched a lot with my Great-Grandmother growing up. She was my free daycare when my mom had to work.”
“And your dad?”
“Daddy issues,” she said with a sigh. “Little cliché for a stripper.”
Mike froze, unsure how to respond. The comment about blasting music and installing a pole came back to him in technicolor glory with the blonde bending backward. Now the moves around the clubhouse were different, strategic, seductive to everyone there in his mind.
“You didn’t know,” she said as the orchestra began to play the opening credits.
“No, how would I?” he asked.
