Page 53 of So Right
“At the Archers’?” He frowned. “That’s a one-bedroom apartment. You’d be sleeping on the couch.”
“I was doing that when Gram was here. It’s better than being alone.”
“I have a spare room, you know, and it just so happens that I have a futon.”
She’d been about to take a bite of pizza but froze. Was he inviting her to stay with him?
“Uh, I’m not sure that’s the best idea.” Hadn’t she just thought about how fast-moving relationships were a catastrophe? “I do appreciate the offer, though.”
He set his pizza down and rested his arms on the table on either side of his plate. “Look, I’m not asking you to move in with me. Just stay with me until you feel comfortable. We’ll be roommates. You’ll have your own space. Granted, I only have one bathroom, but it’s doable. Plus, we both work so much, we’ll hardly ever see each other.”
That sounded disappointing. “You make a good argument. I don’t know…” She could think of a million reasons she shouldn’t, and they all had to do with her crippling fear.
“Come on. My place is small, but it’s a damn sight nicer than this joint.”
She didn’t doubt that. “But it would only be temporary.”
“Whatever you want.”
“I’ll think about it.” She did just that as they finished their dinner, and the conversation turned to the wine club dinner coming up that weekend.
She realized she never gave him an answer about that. “I’d love to go with you. If you still want me to.”
He cringed. “Gee, I asked someone else in the hours since I invited you. Sorry.”
Laughter erupted from her chest, and she was so glad he’d texted her about dinner. She thought about him leaving, about the darkness that would invade when she was alone and didn’t think she could face it. “You’re a jerk. Despite that, I’m going to come stay with you for a few days. On one condition.”
He finished his beer. “Anything.”
“No hanky-panky.”
He laughed so hard, he snorted. “What year is this, 1953? Hanky-panky?”
She giggled. “What would you call it?”
He leaned back and huffed out a breath while he crossed his arms and adopted a pensive pose. “I don’t know. Monkey business?”
She sputtered out a laugh. “Monkey business?” The laugh grew to a guffaw until near-hysteria set in as he joined her. She fought to take a breath and pushed out the word, “Chicanery?”
He howled even louder, slapping his hand on the table. “How about fooling around?”
Tears spilled from her eyes and her face began to hurt from laughing so hard. It was one of those conversations that probably wouldn’t have been funny to anyone else, but in that moment, they were consumed by uncontainable hilarity. “We are firmly planted in 1953. There are apparently no words—none—to describe sexy times in twenty-first century speak.”
“Sexy times works.” He poured himself more beer and took a long drink. “God, I haven’t laughed like that in a long time. Okay, so no sexy times. Does that include kissing? Because I’m kind of hoping I get to do that with you again soon.”
“Wouldn’t that be dangerous? I could see kissing leading to—let me borrow a word from 1953 again—petting, and petting leading to the aforementioned sexy times. In fact, I would argue that kissingissexy times.”
He pouted. “Damn, your argument is sound.”
“So no sexy times while I’m staying with you.”
“Wait, none at all? Or just none in the house?” He looked at her with such hope in his gaze, and he was so gorgeous with his stubble and that square jaw and those dark, hot-as-coals eyes.
“Let me think about that.” She stood up. “Do you mind cleaning up while I pack a few things?”
“Not at all.”
“Thanks. Back in a few.” She went to her bedroom and immediately wondered what in the hell she was doing. She should just go to Gram’s.
