Page 36 of The Truth in My Lies (Secrets of Suburbi 1)

“I didn’t grow up watching black and white movies. I’m not that old. It’s just the principle of the thing.”

“That a movie has to be black and white to be considered a classic?”

“I don’t know why we’re even arguing about this. You have black and white movies in your collection.”

“Would you please just sit your perfect little ass down and experience the greatness that is Rocky.”

“You think I have a perfect butt?” I sat down on his couch and stared up at him.

“Delectable.” He sat down next to me. “Scrumptious.” He grabbed my foot and unzipped my boot. “Mouth-watering.”

My mouth was the one watering. I was practically panting as he tugged off my boot. He placed my foot gently on his coffee table. The same table we were eating off of. And I didn’t even flinch. I was transfixed on the words coming out of his mouth.

“And completely off limits for tonight.”

“What? Why?” I hated how it sounded like I was pleading

.

He positioned an ice pack on my ankle and then one on my shoulder. “You were walking around all night on a sprained ankle. And I just found out your shoulder was hurt too.”

“I’m not as fragile as you think.”

He adjusted the ice pack on my shoulder. “I never said you were fragile. If my shoulder looked like that, I’d probably be whining nonstop.” He pushed my hair away from the ice pack, his fingers hesitating on my neck. “I bought a few bottles of wine since you were here last. Wasn’t sure if you preferred red or white. Unless you want scotch again. I know how much you liked that.”

“You thought I’d be back here again?”

“I hoped you would be.” But his eyes screamed, “Doll, I knew you would be.” He let his fingers drop from my neck.

I swallowed hard. “Red would be great.”

“I’ll be right back.” He paused the previews and disappeared out of the room.

God, my stupid shoulder. I had to admit, though, the ice did feel good. I leaned forward and grabbed one of the takeout bags from the coffee table. He hadn’t bothered with plates. Probably since last time we had eaten burgers at my house, I had eaten mine so quickly it barely touched the plate.

I pulled out my burger and fries and positioned the bag on my lap. The burger was even juicier than I remembered.

Ben dimmed the lights when he came back into the room. He looked good every time I saw him, but there was something special about the way the light of the TV hit his face. No one had a right to look that good in casual lighting. How was I supposed to concentrate on a movie when all I wanted to do was look at him?

He handed me one of the glasses. “Here’s to you discovering what a classic truly entails.”

I laughed. “Really? That’s your toast? Not, here’s to a lovely date? Or here’s to a romantic evening in?”

“I thought all those things were implied. Obviously the best date of your life involves ice packs.”

I smiled. “Ice packs aside, I have no doubt that this will be the most memorable date of my life.”

Something flashed across his eyes. Shock maybe? I wasn’t sure. It was gone too quickly to tell.

“Okay, scratch what I said before. Here’s to the best first date of your life.”

I smiled and clinked my glass against his. My eyes stayed on his as I took a sip. Red wine was definitely better than whiskey.

“I’d tell you to start eating,” he said and grabbed his bag off the coffee table, “but you’ve already started without me.”

I looked down at my half-eaten burger. “I tend to be an incredibly rude houseguest. Feet on your table kind of houseguest.”

“Trust me, I don’t mind. It’s nice to have someone to spend the night with.”

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