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“You were right,” he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
I chuckled, licking my fingers clean, “I know I was. You can’t go wrong with small ham sandwiches and salted caramel bars.” I leaned back in my chair and sighed contentedly. Sure, I may have indulged in one too many of those delicious treats, but it was worth it.
The funeral had come and gone, leaving behind a strangely comforting atmosphere. Now, it was just Rocco and me, surrounded by the remnants of the refreshments table. It was a fitting end to a long day.
“I’m sorry I left so early this morning,” Rocco’s voice broke the comfortable silence, catching me off guard.
I met his gaze, surprised by his admission. I had expected us to skirt around the issue, pretending that nothing out of the ordinary had happened last night. After all, we had managed to go the entire day without addressing it. “I was dead to the world, Rocco,” I confessed with a shrug. “I didn’t even realize you were gone until I woke up. I probably would have swung on you if you tried to wake me up.”
Rocco chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. “I’m not sure if I should be offended by that or not,” he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.
I laughed, shaking my head. “Don’t be,” I reassured him. “I think I just needed a good night’s sleep after the past few days. The Mexican food in my tummy and a boring movie on TV was just what I needed to slip into a coma,” I laughed.
“You weren’t a fan of Kill Bill?”
“I don’t think I made it past the first ten minutes, and I couldn’t tell you what happened in those ten minutes.”
“I have a confession.” He leaned toward me, and his eyes sparkled. “I don’t think I made it past fifteen minutes.”
“At least we were in the same boat, then.”
Rocco nodded and tapped his fingers on the table. “How about we clean this all up and do it again?”
I reached for another salted caramel bar even though I didn’t need one and couldn’t help but laugh. “Maybe we should try a different movie. One that will keep us awake.”
Rocco nodded. “Sounds like a date, babe.”
Chapter Sixteen
Rocco
The evening was off to a similar start as last night, with Dorothy and me settled comfortably on the couch in my living room. The soft glow of the TV illuminated our faces as we indulged in one of our favorite pastimes – watching a scary movie. Dinner had been another Brew’s special – chicken pot pie with a side of veggies and a roll. It seemed that whenever Dorothy and I got together outside of work, food was inevitably involved.
As the movie got to about the midway point, tension filled the air, mirroring the suspense unfolding on the screen. Suddenly, the killer made his dramatic appearance, catching Dorothy off guard. With a startled yelp, she jumped up, accidentally knocking my beer out of my hand and all over my shirt and pants.
“Oh gosh!” Dorothy exclaimed, her eyes wide with surprise. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized, her cheeks flushed red. “I didn’t expect the crazy dude to just jump out like that.”
I rose from the couch, trying to contain the spill on my shirt. “You’re good, babe,” I reassured her with a chuckle. “At least tonight you’re not falling asleep ten minutes in.” I headed toward the laundry room and peeled off my shirt. I tossed it in the direction of the laundry room before turning to head upstairs for a clean one. As I spun around, I nearly collided with Dorothy, her eyes wide and her mouth agape.
“Oh boy,” she whispered, her gaze fixed on my bare chest.
A smirk tugged at my lips. “See something you like, babe?” I teased.
Dorothy quickly slapped her hand over her eyes. “Put your shirt back on,” she instructed, her voice slightly muffled.
I cocked an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Why?”
“You bamboozled me,” she gasped, her cheeks flushing pink.
“Bamboozled you?” I echoed with a laugh. “You’re the one who followed me into the kitchen.”
She peeked at me through her fingers. “Because I was coming to help you.”
“I think I can handle taking my shirt off, but if you want to help, I think I got some beer on my pants, too,” I suggested with a playful grin.
Dorothy snapped her fingers shut. “You can add flabbergasted and discombobulated to the list, too,” she muttered, flustered.
“So that’s a no, then?” I teased, feeling a surge of boldness. “I’ll need to take care of my pants on my own.”
