“No!” He groans, putting a hand over his eyes. “Not Johnny and Baby.”
“You said you liked that movie!” Now it’s my turn to pretend to be offended.
“I said that because I wanted to get in your pants. I don’t know a single guy who likesDirty Dancing.”
“Craig does!” He gives me a look, and I raise my eyebrows. “You said a guy.”
“Sorry, a straight guy.”
“I don’t know why you’re rewriting history.” My stomach tingles at the memory of us as teenagers. “You didn’t have to pretend to likeDirty Dancingto get in my pants.”
“Tell you what.” He steps closer, placing one hand on the cabinet above my head. “We’ll watchRoad Housetonight, and maybe if you stay another night, we can watchDirty Dancing.”
Lifting my chin, I look up at him leaning closer. The pull between us is strong as ever, and now I’m here, surrounded by his scent of soap and citrus, the warmth of his body raising the hairs on my arms.
“Are you suggesting you might try something, Mr. Bradford?” I’m teasing, but his eyes darken.
I almost expect him to lean down and kiss me, but instead he pushes off and walks around the counter. “Not at all Ms Bankston. It’s just nice to have you around.”
His response sends me straight back to uneasy. Garrett has never put distance between us, and I don’t know what to think. Then it hits me. It’s so obvious. My body flushes hot then cold, and nausea creeps up my neck.
“Will it create a problem for you if I spend the night here?” I take a step back, wondering if it’s too late for me to book a hotel room.
“What do you mean?”
“Is there…someonewho wouldn’t appreciate me being here all night, alone with you?” Looking into the guest room, I see my bag sitting on the dresser.
Of course, he has a girlfriend. Look at him. It’s why he didn’t call me after our red-hot wedding weekend. It’s why he made a point to say it didn’t count if he kissed me after midnight.
“Whoa, hang on.” He rounds the counter, brow lowered as he charges into my space again.
I take another step away, ready to grab my bag and bolt. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think?—”
“Liv, stop.” He puts his hands on my upper arms, holding me in place. “There’s nosomeone. There’s no one.” His expression tenses as if that’s not accurate.
“You’re not dating anyone at all?” I want to be perfectly clear. “How is that possible?”
“No. I mean, sure I’ve haddates,like for awards ceremonies and charity events and stuff, but nothing serious.” He shakes his head. “I’m not dating anyone.”
Relief hits me so hard, my knees almost give out. I can’t even imagine how that would’ve complicated things if he were. At the same time, it’s not right for me to be so relieved. I have no claim on him. We had a crazy, passionate weekend, but we didn’t make promises. He’s not mine.
That thought sends another painful twist in my stomach. Turning away, I rub my hand over my midsection. My feelings are so mixed up and intense these days. It has to be pregnancy hormones. It’s the only explanation for my roller-coaster insides and impulsive behavior.
“Okay.” I nod, wrinkling my nose as I look up at him. “That’s good, I guess… another lucky break?”
He huffs a laugh, releasing me. “Let’s eat. It’s getting late, and you’re really going to like this sandwich. You’ll see.”
He returns to the kitchen to plate the food, then he leads me around to the living room and pulls up the movie. Plates on the coffee table, he tosses two large pillows on the floor in front of the couch and pats one for me to sit beside him.
“Ready for one of the best action movies ever made?” He grins widely.
“Pretty sure that’s up for debate.”
“You know, they modeled the whole thing after old westerns.”
“Makes sense. I usually slept through those, too.” I pick up the large, round sandwich and take a bite of ham, salami, provolone, and green-olive salad.
I hold my hand over my full mouth. It’s an explosion of rich, salty, spicy, deliciousness with a touch of tang. “Oh my god!”