Page 34 of Damaged Protector

With an easy flick of my wrist, I removed the cap and tossed it in the trash before handing her the bottle.

“Damn showoff,” she mumbled, taking a small sip before staring at me and lifting an eyebrow. “You’re right; this is a nice one. Did you decide if you wanted a snack?”

“I think I want to watch a movie and pop some corn.”

“Glad you stared into the fridge for, like, twenty minutes to decide that,” she retorted.

“It was a few seconds, smartass.” I laughed, and just like that, things didn’t feel weird anymore. “Go pick out a movie. We can stream something, or the Chuck DVDs are in the bottom cabinet of the entertainment center.”

I was pleased when I walked into the living room a few minutes later to find Mal sitting cross-legged on the floor, drifting a finger over the rows of movies. She peeked over her shoulder at me and beamed.

“You have everything!”

“Yeah, my collection is pretty comprehensive,” I agreed, setting down the popcorn and two fresh beers on the coffee table. “Except Yellow Faced Tiger from 1974. I haven’t been able to find that one.”

“We’re watching this one,” she announced, tugging out a slim container.

“What is it?”

“A surprise!” she sang, holding it against her chest and scooting toward the DVD player.

Once Mal had it inserted, she scrabbled off the floor and planted herself on the other end of the couch, looking smug. The words Breaker! Breaker! appeared on-screen, and I chortled.

“Have you seen this one before, Little Bee?”

“Of course, I have,” she replied indignantly. “Who do you think you’re talking to here, buddy?”

“Oh, pardon the hell out of me, madam. I forgot I was dealing with an aficionado.” My tone dripped with fake deference and a hint of sarcasm as I picked up the bowl and set it in between my thighs.

“Damn skippy.” Mallori scooted down the couch until she was right beside me and dipped her hand into the popcorn bowl. In my lap. I apparently hadn’t thought this all the way through.

It’s fine. Really. Just popcorn.

She turned to me and grinned before saying, “Chuck Norris once shot an enemy plane down with his finger, by saying, ‘Pew pew!’” When she pointed a finger gun at me, I couldn’t help but laugh and replied with a fake fact of my own.

“Well, I heard the dinosaurs looked at Chuck Norris the wrong way once, and you know what happened to them.”

Mallori’s eyes crinkled at the corners when she laughed before turning back to the movie. She really had the prettiest eyes I’d ever seen. When you first looked at them, they seemed blue, but close up, you could see flecks of green which made them appear more aqua.

She turned back to me, a tiny line appearing between her brows. “Do I have butter on my face or something?”

That’s when I realized I was staring at her like an idiot. Fuck. What the hell was wrong with me?

“Uh, just a little,” I lied, swiping away a nonexistent smudge from the corner of her mouth with my thumb. Her skin was so soft.

“Sorry,” she squeaked, darting her tongue out to lick at the spot where my thumb had just been. Fuck me, that tiny pink tongue… Our eyes held, light ones on dark ones before I finally dragged my gaze back to the movie.

Get your shit together, Hawk. Watch the fucking movie, not the woman beside you. The very young woman.

We sat in silence, eating, drinking, and laughing occasionally at some of the cheesiness in the film.

“You know, I’m really not a fan of Chuck’s hair in this movie,” she said a few minutes in.

“He could use a trim,” I admitted, “but it was the seventies. Whaddaya gonna do?”

During the first fight scene, Mallori craned her neck forward, watching intently as her hands clenched and flexed. She was really into it.

Her elbow tapped against my bicep. “Did you know Norris was also the fight choreographer for this film? And he only received five-thousand dollars total?”

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