Page 17 of Airhead

“You haven’t finished your Orange Julius,” he said. “Your dad said they’re your favorite.”

She stopped with one butt cheek hanging in the air. “They are.”

“So stay and finish.” He nudged the cup closer to her side of the table. “I won’t flirt.”

“Is that even possible for you?” she asked as she moved so her whole ass was on the booth’s seat, even though she knew she should be getting the hell out of there. Her business here was completed. And yet, she continued, “You flirt with everyone. It’s like breathing for you.”

“Maybe I’m just a nice guy who likes making people smile.” He shrugged his broad shoulders and started to fold his straw wrapper into teeny-tiny triangles, his gaze never leaving her. “So, your dad said you like the movies.”

Alarm bells and sirens went off in her head. Nothing about her dad and Frank Hartigan talking about her boded well—not when her dad was on a mission to become a grandpa.

“Why are you two having little chats about me?” she asked, not sure she wanted to hear the answer.

“We aren’t,” Frank said. “He just mentions things here and there.”

“And you remember them?” she scoffed.

He nodded and flicked his straw-wrapper triangle into the unused plastic ashtray built into the end of the table. “I do. I know your favorite color is blue because you wear it all the time, you’re so smart you got a killer scholarship to some fancy college, you’ve got a great sense of humor, you’re not the best at car maintenance, you’re a good sister, you’re not nearly as scary as you want everyone to think you are, and that you go to the movies every week.”

Heat beat against her cheeks. She felt naked for a whole other reason besides being turned on beyond belief and her better judgement. So she clung to the last thing he’d said like it was a life preserver and she was drowning in the harbor.

“No movies for me this week.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Why not?”

“No one will go see Halloween II with me and I’m too scared to go by myself.”

She’d made that mistake with the first Halloween, and had ended up sleeping with her bedroom light on for two weeks.

“I’ll go with you.” He picked up the laminated card, listing movie times, tucked between the ketchup and mustard bottles on the table. “The next showing is in twenty minutes.”

She gulped past the excitement lodged in her throat like an anticipation balloon. “I’m not going on a date with you.”

“I know that.” He flattened the grin into something more neutral. “I’ll just be there for moral support. I’ll even sit in a different row if you want.”

Despite the danger bells ringing in her ears, she laughed. “That would defeat the whole ‘having someone go with me so I’m not scared at the gory parts’ thing.”

“So I’ll sit next to you, but it won’t be a date.” He moved over to the edge of the booth and stood up. “I won’t even share my popcorn mixed with M&Ms with you.”

“That’s my favorite way to eat them too.” It was buttery, salty, chocolatey heaven.

“Then you’ll have to get your own bucket.”

Heart hammering in her chest, she looked up at him. The non-stop chatter from the teenagers at the other tables faded away, and it was just them. “Because it’s not a date.”

“Exactly.” He held out his hand to help her up.

She didn’t hesitate, even for a second. Instead, while Katie’s brain told her to run away, she listened to her heart—and yes, her days-of-the-week panties—and took Frank’s hand.

Chapter Eight

Frank hated scary movies.

He’d made the mistake of seeing the original Halloween when it came out a few years ago, and had volunteered for back-to-back shifts afterward so he wouldn’t have to be alone in his apartment. And yet, here he was, like a giant dumbass, sitting down with a big-ass bucket of popcorn (extra butter plus two packs of M&Ms stirred in) for more nightmare-inducing jump scares.

And yes, to make it even more pathetic, he was putting himself through more gore than a sixteen-car pile-up on the Harbor Bridge just so he could share his popcorn with a woman he was not on a date with. All the while he kept his eyes on the screen, instead of Katie like he wanted, while Mike Myers slashed his way from house to house on his way to Haddonfield Memorial Hospital.

Crunched down low in her seat, with her hand blocking her view of the screen, Katie asked, “Is it over yet?”