Page 19 of Exclusive

I smell a rat.

Sutton is up to something — and I’m not real big for surprises — probably why my stomach’s queasy with skeptical anticipation. He’s been spending every night, and free moment for that matter, at my place, but for some reason, he went to his own apartment earlier, and insists on picking me up from mine tonight.

Oh yeah… the stench of a scheme reeks in my nostrils.

I’m just about to send him a text, asking what I should wear, the hunt for a hint guised as a legitimate question, when’s there’s a knock at the door. Castello’s tail’s wagging and he’s using his excited, friendly bark rather than his “burglar/deranged serial killer/unsub” one. I’ve been teaching him, so I know it’s Sutton.

And out of nowhere, brilliance strikes; a lil’ surprise of my own. “Just a second,” I call through the door, stripping off my shoes and every stitch of clothing, running to hide the pile in the laundry room. “Sorry, sorry,” I say, somewhat out of breath, as I open the door… and cast him innocent eyes, as if unaware I’m buck naked.

“Fuck,” he exhales a heated growl, rubbing the back of his neck. “You look good enough to eat, baby, a whole damn meal,” he glances left, right, behind him, then back to me, “but why are you so determined to show your neighbors what’s mine?” There’s a primal note in his grumble, as he pushes his way inside, and the door shut. Castello, excited to see him, yips and paws at his legs, so Sutton bends down to pet him, but his eyes stayed glued on me. “Remember the part about spending time together doing other things? You’re makin’ that real hard to stick to right about now.”

“Making other things hard too, I see.” I stare demonstratively at his crotch. “So, what is it we’re doing tonight?” I purr.

“Not fuckin’… yet,” he groans, taking me by the shoulders and spinning me around. “Well shit, that backfired. Do love that ass of yours. No, no, not gonna work. Go get dressed, temptress; I got something special planned.” He gives me a gentle nudge forward.

I glare back over my shoulder, grinning. “Psshh, I wasn’t offering, just seeing how you liked surprises.”

“Sugar, I’m constantly surprised by you.”

“Good.” I give him a show, a sexy little shimmy of my ass. “Keeps ya on your toes.”

“We’re at your apartment,” I state, but confusion makes it sound more like a question.

“Man,” he snaps his fingers, “can’t fool you. Come on, boy.” He opens his door and gets out, instructing Castello to do the same before walking around to open mine. “Don’t look so disappointed,” he laughs, “you’ll like it. I promise.”

Funny thing is, these days… I believe him. Have absolutely no doubt. I still think he’s setting himself up for real disappointment, dare I be so arrogant to think maybe even heartache, but if he’s good with it, I am too. Very good, actually. New to this whole “relationship” thing, I’m not sure if it’s because of the novelty, and anticipation — I suspect it’s neither, and wholly because it’s with Sutton — but I’ve never been happier in my life. Every single day, whether we go out and do something fun, or simply hang out at home, he always has me smiling, laughing and/or moaning the entire time. And when it’s over, I’m already looking forward to what the next day holds.

“Have a seat, babe.” He motions me toward the couch once we’re inside then disappears into the kitchen. “What do you want to drink?”

“What are my choices?”

“Beer, sweet tea, water… oh, or your favorite raspberry wine coolers.”

“Then you know my answer.” I kinda laugh, more so sigh, basking in just another one of his thoughtful questions. And he’s hot. And phenomenal in bed. Yeah, life doesn’t work this well; the other shoe’s gotta be about to drop.

“What’s the face for?” he asks, handing me my drink and taking a seat beside me.

“Nothing,” I mumble, fiddling with the label on the bottle in avoidance.

“Presley,” he pries.

“I was just thinking…” I now look at him, “I’ve gotta be about to crash head first into a brick wall, or something. This is, we’re too… never mind.”

“We’re what?” The microwave dings, so he stands, once again heading to the kitchen, but not letting me off the hook. “We’re what, Presley?”

“Nothing. Forget it; let’s enjoy ourselves and not worry ‘til we have to.” I offer him a big optimistic smile when he returns, serving me a plate full of Chinese food — another one of my favorites.

“Sounds good to me; no unnecessary worrying. And no forecasting the ‘‘til we have to’ either, okay? ‘Cause it’s never gonna come. I’ll make sure of it, babe. I love you, and I always will, so there’s no ‘‘til’ coming; ever.” He leans in and kisses me, slow and deliberate, then pulls back and winks. “Now get to eatin’ while I get our entertainment rolling.”

It’s only when he goes to the TV, down on his haunches and sorting out the mess there that I notice it and ask on a laugh, “Whatcha’ got going on there, techy? It looks like somebody went a little crazy in Best Buy.”

“Well, dear,” he chuckles, then gently scolds the dog for trying to help, “your list took some doing. Not one modern miracle offered all of them in one place, but between Netflix, DVD, and, wait for it, a VCR, which was damn near impossible to find, I managed to swing it. And now, working our way from bottom to top, I give you… Just Like Heaven.” He turns off the lights and retakes his seat beside me, picking up his plate of food and digging in as though everything’s humdrum normal.

Which it is so not. Far, far from it.

I turn to face him, locking down the wobble I know’s gonna try and inject itself in my voice. “My movie list? You tracked them all, and the necessary devices to watch them, down? This is movie night? My movie night, with my favorite food and drinks?”

“Yep, you like?”

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