Page 101 of A Lucky Shot

“Erg! These are the most coverage pyjamas I have!” she said, crossing her arms. He half-expected her to stomp her foot, and he twisted his mouth to hide his grin. “And they are Portuguese flannel,” she continued, unfazed. “Do you know how cozy this is?”

“You should take them off and let me try them on. I’ll let you know.”

“Do you want me to drive you back home?” she threatened. “I’ll do it.”

“No, I just thought if you were serious about me keeping my hands to myself, you’d have worn a muumuu or something.”

“Are you really making a ‘you should watch what you wear’ argument with me?” she asked, pursing her lips to hide the smile trying to break through.

Josh motioned to his clothes. “I know how hard it is for you to not ravage me, so I dressed accordingly.”

“What, like you are going to stand there in your grey sweatpants and fleecy hoodie and not look like you purposefully didn’t pick that, so I’d want to snuggle you?”

Nailed it. Enough women had told him about their obsessions with men in sweatpants. “So, you want to snuggle me?” he said, smile widening.

“You promised to behave tonight!”

That’s right, Lucky Charms. Let those good intentions fly right out the window. If she came onto him, excellent. If she didn’t, he’d still get what he wanted. Time with her. Whether or not their clothes were on.

Win-win.

“I’m not above telling you what you want to hear to get close to you. Plus, it’s very cold outside. You wouldn’t really send me home, would you?”

She covered her face with her hands. “Let’s watch a movie.”

She knelt in front of the cabinet under the television, one leg tucked under her, the other extended to the side, and flipped through cases. Her thighs spread like butter as they flattened against each other, and he reminded himself he was too full to think of anything other than laying still and digesting.

“Mind if I pick?” she asked, flicking through the dozens of DVDs and Blu-rays stacked in uneven rows.

“No streaming?”

“You never know when your favourite will disappear.”

True. “You pick. Just no extended Lord of the Rings marathon.”

“That’s tomorrow.”

She selected a disc, hit play, and settled back on the couch against him. At least she wasn’t putting up the pretense of space. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She smelled like flowers and dish soap, and she mellowed into the angles of his torso. Something creaked loose in his chest.

The title flashed across the screen, and he felt himself smile. “The Mummy?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“It’s cheesy.”

“It’s a perfect representation of the action-adventure fantasy genre with a romantic subplot.”

“That’s specific.”

“Not only is it an underrated costume masterpiece, Brendan Fraser and Oded Fehr were my sexual awakenings.”

It didn’t escape his notice that Dawson, while not a physical dead ringer, had all the hero vibes as the lead actor on screen. It also hadn’t slipped his notice that Dawson had sidled up to Cass with that charming leading man energy on more than one occasion, and he didn’t think it had anything to do with the photo ops. He forced his grip on her waist to remain loose.

“Fine. I always get a semi seeing Rachel Weisz in that librarian get up.”

“Same,” she said with a grin, and Josh tipped his head back with a snort.

He didn’t get the chance to tease her anymore. She detailed every genius costuming choice and every design flaw. Each anachronistic set piece was highlighted, followed by a breakdown on why they still worked. When she wasn’t reciting the lines with the actors, Josh pointed out every continuity error while silently wishing he’d had this budget.

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