Page 20 of Hidden Hearts

Something I’ve never had a problem exercising—before Avery.

“You don’t know how happy I am to hear that you’ve at least seen Toy Story. It gives me hope that you weren’t born a full-grown adult,” she jokes—oblivious to the battle raging inside my blood—then shuffles back to her side of the counter to hold up picture after picture for me to veto or approve. If we disagree, she tosses it into a maybe pile.

"Food's done. Time for a break," I interrupted, glad to have my body under a semblance of control again.

Avery abandons the vision board and props her elbows on the kitchen island where I scoop out her bowl first, then mine. "You put ketchup on your mac and cheese, too?"

"Yep, you want some?" I offer the bottle to her, but she waves it away.

"Heck no. I think it's gross, but my dad likes it that way.” She shudders in disgust. “I don't know what's wrong with you guys."

“Nothing wrong with having good taste. Why don’t you take a seat? I’ve got this.” I carry our bowls and two bottles of water to the couch where Avery’s moved to sit cross-legged. Her mismatched bright neon socks snag my attention, and warmth settles in my chest. It’s a simple thing, but her feeling so comfortable does something to me.

I like that she doesn’t feel the need to be so proper and polite.

So put together.

Flipping on the television, I scroll through channels. "The Rockies and Dodgers are playing today. Hopefully, we can pull out a win."

“Who are you rooting for?”

"The Rockies, though I'm not sure why. I've never lived in Colorado. Guess I just have a thing for underdogs."

Avery’s fork pauses halfway to her mouth. "I wouldn't have said that about you."

"Maybe you don't know me as well as you think." I stare back at her, a wealth of meaning behind my words.

Breaking the moment with a reluctant smile, she glances at the TV. "Not possible."

Turning away with my own grin, we watch the game and eat in companionable silence, until a few hours later—after my team loses—Avery asks if I have Starz.

"Yeah, why?"

"Because I missed the marathon of Black Sails because of you, and I want to catch some of the encore showings while we go through the maybe pile. Is that a problem?"

Raising my hands in surrender, I find the series and click on the episode currently playing.

"I recognize this guy."

Excited, Avery whips her head around. "You’ve seen Black Sails before?"

If only she got that excited about me.

"No, but I remember that man. The one who needs a bath. I'm pretty sure he was the cover photo for your Hot Men board on Pinterest."

Her eyes widen and a dark red blush pervades her skin. "How did you see that?"

"When we were looking at possible DIY projects yesterday. The boards were right next to each other. So, you're into dirty pirates?"

"Oh my god." Avery throws her head back against the couch and groans. "I wouldn't classify Charles Vane as a dirty pirate. He's a hot, rugged man who manages to make dirt and blood look sexy. The fact that he's a pirate adds to his dangerous appeal. Plus, he's had such a hard life. That stupid chick betrayed him and broke his heart and..."

I cut her off. "You have a lot of feelings for this guy." Is it possible to be jealous of a fictional TV character? "But you do realize he doesn't exist, right?"

"Actually, he did exist back in the 18th century. And the actor is real. See?" She scrolls through her phone and shoves the screen at me.

A different man stands there shirtless.

"How many semi-naked guys do you have on your phone?"

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