Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 70551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“Oh, yeah.”
“I won’t do that.”
Her voice is soft and sweet, and everything in me longs to believe her. I just met her yesterday, and I’m pulled to her in ways that surprise me. This doesn’t happen. I don’t let it happen.
“I hope not,” I reply and take a sip of my tea. She laughs when I pull the cup away. “What?”
“You have foam on your lip.” She leans over the table and wipes it away with her fingers, and I feel her touch all the way to the pit of my stomach. “There you go.”
“Thanks.”
“Do you want to walk around town a bit?” she asks. I don’t want to wander out in the cold. I spent all morning in it. But I also don’t want to go back to the tree house by myself, as stupid as that sounds.
I don’t want to end the afternoon with her.
“No.” I shift in my seat. “Is there a movie theater in town?”
“Of course.” Her eyes widen. “You want to go to the movies?”
I nod, eager to sit in a dark theater with her, to watch magic happen on the screen as she sits next to me, munching on popcorn.
“Which one?”
“Any one.”
She immediately pulls her phone out again and scrolls around for a moment, and I can’t help but watch her fingers, remembering how they felt on my mouth.
I’m not going to be able to keep my hands off of her for long.
She checks the time. “They’re playing the new Star Wars movie in thirty minutes.”
“Let’s do it. Unless you had other plans?”
“Nope. I like the movies.” She smiles, almost shyly, and I can’t help but reach over and smooth a lock of hair behind her ear again.
“Me, too.” I stand, gather our empty cups, and wink at her. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Three
~Jenna~
“HI,” CHRISTIAN SAYS TO the young woman selling tickets at our small theater. Her brown eyes widen, and I think she might have just swallowed her tongue.
“Are you?” she stutters.
“Nah,” Christian replies but then winks at her. She blushes. “Two for Star Wars, please.”
She just nods and takes his cash, hands over the change, and then the poor thing walks over to the concessions counter to continue waiting on us.
“Are you sure?” she asks and bites her lip.
Christian just laughs and shakes his head. “I’ll take a large popcorn and a bottle of water. How about you?” he asks me.
“Are you going to share your popcorn?”
“Absolutely not,” he replies.
“A small one for me, then.” I laugh and slip my hand through his arm, just in support. He glances down at me and smiles softly. It’s interesting to watch his face harden in front of strangers when they recognize him and soften when he looks at me.
Is this what his life is?
“Would you like a drink?”
I blink, pulling myself out of my thoughts. “A diet Coke, please.”
It’s a quiet afternoon at our theater, which is good for us. We have our pick of seats when we walk into the auditorium, and Christian leads me halfway up and to the middle.
“This is the best spot,” he says with a happy smile.
“I’m surprised you want to go to the movies.” I sit beside him and take a bite of popcorn.
“Why?”
“It’s like someone who works at McDonald’s doesn’t want to eat at McDonald’s. They get sick of it.”
“Not me.” He shovels a handful of kernels into his mouth and chews loudly, making me giggle. “Love this.”
“You’re disgusting.”
He opens his mouth, showing me his food, and I throw a piece of popcorn at his face, hitting him in the nose.
“Thanks,” he says, plucking the kernel from his shirt and popping it into his mouth, smiling as he chews. “What’s your favorite movie?”
“Steel Magnolias,” I reply immediately, and he scowls at me. “What?”
“That’s your favorite?”
“Pink is my signature color,” I reply with a deep southern accent. “It’s a classic.”
“Hmm. I might have to rethink this entire relationship.”
“Okay, movie expert,”—that earns me a smug smile—“what’s your favorite?”
He sighs and shoves another handful of popcorn into his mouth, thinking it over. God, he’s something to write home about. That square jaw, the way his hair curls slightly over his earlobe. His muscular shoulders in that sweatshirt.
Sitting this close to him is bad for my libido.
“Holiday Inn,” he says at last, and to say I’m surprised is an understatement.
“With Fred Astaire?”
“Yep.” More popcorn is stuffed into his mouth.
“Why?”
He shrugs and takes a sip of his water. “Because the dancing is amazing. Old movies are magical. Innocent in a way. The talent is just out of this world. I can’t imagine the number of choreography hours they invested.”
I turn in my seat to watch him. I’ve seen him dance on screen. Christian is talented in his own right.
“You’re a good dancer.”
He glances down at his popcorn. “Thanks. I enjoy it. I’ve always enjoyed everything about musical theater, the singing, the dancing. I trained for a lot of years.”