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But Inez is tucking her phone into her back pocket and a beaming smile is unfolding across her face. “Are you kidding me? I’d love to watch a movie. I noticed your collection in the living room. You’ve got some good stuff, Boss Man.”
Without hesitation, she eagerly leads the way down the hallway, tiptoeing past Stella’s closed bedroom door. I grin to myself, shuffling along behind her.
Together, we kneel on the shag carpet in front of the wall unit where all the DVDs and VHS cassettes are stored. Inez is like a kid in a candy shop as we whisper back and forth, thumbing through all our entertainment options for the night.
Finally, she selects an old Jim Carrey movie I haven’t watched in years. “I used to loved this movie as a kid,” she tells me, beaming. “I used to watch it all the time with this foster family I stayed with for a while. It really was one of my favorites.”
“Let’s do it, then.” I pop the cassette into the player and I watch her face light up with excitement as she settles on the couch with the remote.
I feel a twinge in my chest at the idea of her bouncing around from place to place in her childhood. How can she be such a ray of positivity after all the crap she’s been through?
“Everything okay?” she asks when our eyes catch.
I shake out of my thoughts. “Snacks?” I ask in a low voice, jutting my chin toward the kitchen.
“Hell yeah,” she whispers back as the opening trailers begin to play.
Then I’m fighting against a smile as I hustle around the kitchen, throwing some popcorn in the microwave while I put together a high-fructose feast. Stella’s strawberry punch juice boxes, creamy pudding cups and some candy I’ve had stashed away at the back of the pantry since I confiscated it from my sugar-happy daughter last Halloween.
Soon, we’re crammed on the couch, sitting way too close to each other, knees touching, sharing junk food and stifling our laughter with the TV volume on low.
A feeling of carefree nostalgia hovers in the room as Jim Carrey runs around, engaging in ridiculous antics that would normally only get a chuckle or two out of me. But with Inez sitting here beside me, snort-giggling and dropping popcorn into her cleavage, I honestly can’t remember the last time I laughed this much. She is so caught up in the movie and her reactions are adorable.
I swear I don’t know how it happens but my arm ends up draped along the back of the couch. Inez doesn’t pull away from my touch. Instead, when she runs out of popcorn, she inches closer to me, stealing buttery kernels out of my own bag.
I totally crossed the line earlier today, flirting with her and making inappropriate innuendo. I just liked seeing the surprise in her wide eyes and the pink flush on her cheeks when I made those immature jokes. Her expression was cute. And I liked the thrill that rushed through me as I made her blush.
But it was all just for fun. Harmless, right? I’d never actually act on any of that.
Yet before long, I’ve forgotten all about the movie. I’m staring at her, unable to believe that she’s here with me. This time last week, I was sitting on this couch all alone and she was on that television screen and I thought I’d lost her forever. Now she’s at my side and I just want to pull her closer to me.
I make note of the way she arches her foot, wiggling her toes around like she’s in pain. I’m willing to bet that her feet ache from walking all over town in those impractical high heels I saw kicked off by the front door today. I won’t say I told you so because I’m sure she wouldn’t appreciate my gloating.
She catches me staring as she shoves sour gummies into her face. She titters self-consciously. “Gosh. I’m being a pig.” Then she shrugs. “But it’s not every day I eat trash like this.” She lazily swirls her tongue around the tip of her sugar-covered finger. My eyes follow the movement. My cock tingles.
I shrug, scarfing down a handful of licorice pieces. “It’s not every day that I get to bundle up on my couch and watch an old movie with the most beautiful woman in America.”
Inez pauses, looking surprised by my flirtation. Then a big, goofy grin explodes across her face. She tries to bite it down. “So I guess we’re even, then.”
I grin back. “I guess so.”
That goofy smile lingers on her face as she steals my packet of licorice and returns her gaze to the TV screen.
Fuck—when Inez left town, never in a million years did I imagine that she’d end up in my living room, bantering with me on a Tuesday night, watching a 1990s comedy classic.
But I love it here.
With Inez here beside me now, I’ve never been more grateful for a night off. I never know what to expect on my nights away from the bar. I still don't fully trust some of the new staff. If it weren't for my daughter, I’d probably be there working until close every night. Stella helps me set boundaries. Tonight as I sit here with Inez, I’m just really, really glad to be at home.
I force my eyes back to the movie. I’m struggling so hard. Struggling not to trace my fingers over the curve of her shoulder. Struggling not to pull her into my lap.
And I can’t shut up the part of my brain that’s wondering how soft her lips must be. Wondering what flavor of candy they’d taste like right now. Wondering if she’d kiss me back if I leaned in and touched my lips to hers.
But then I recall the way she always turned away from Vance every time he’d get too close to her. Would she react the same with me? Or would she pull me closer? Would she like it?
Of course she wouldn’t like it. I’m not the type of guy Inez would go for.
I really need to stop listening to my siblings and their theories. They’re getting into my head and turning me into a creep.
