He looked closer, and chuckled. “Minnie Mouse?”
She snapped her fingers. “Give it.”
Mitchell threw the shirt her way before gathering up the ten extra pillows that every woman invariably had lying around and creating a pillow wall for them to lean against.
“I love breakfast in bed, don’t you?” she asked around a mouthful of bagel.
“Not really,” he said, watching her take a big bite. “I hate crumbs in my bed.”
“But this is my bed.”
“Which I’m in.”
Her honey eyes smoked over, making him think of whisky by the firelight. “Do you plan to be a frequent guest?” she asked huskily.
“Am I invited?”
“Depends. Am I still just a fling?”
She gazed at him steadily, and he realized that even if he told her yes, that she was a fling, she’d deal with it. Probably even accept it as her due.
Damn if that didn’t just tear at his heart a little.
He wanted to disrupt her. Turn her low expectations upside down. What that meant for his deal with Colin, he didn’t know. He’d figure it out later.
But for now …
“Want to get crumbs in my bed tomorrow?” he said, brushing a strand of hair off her cheek.
She took a sip of coffee, watching him warily. “What about answering my question about being a fling?”
“I thought I just did.”
He held his breath, and then let it out in a whoosh when she gave a slow, happy little smile. And just like that, he was forgiven. He should have known it would be that way with Julie. She wouldn’t demand endless explanations or indulge in prolonged talks. There were no games with Julie.
Just straightforward communication and sweet forgiveness.
“Why, Mitchell Forbes, are you invitin’ me over to your pad?” she asked in her best southern belle voice.
“I believe I am, little lady.”
“I accept. Are we defiling another nightclub first?”
Mitchell took a deliberate sip of coffee, finding he couldn’t quite meet her eyes. “Actually, I was thinking we should stay in tonight.”
Julie froze. “Oh?”
He took a deep breath and pushed Colin and box seats at Yankee Stadium out of his mind. For now.
“Yeah,” he said, giving her a half smile. “Now tell me, how do you feel about butter on your popcorn?”
* * *
“I told you we should have ordered the pizza.”
Julie stared down at the plasticky mess. “But this was a frozen pizza. Grace said it was supposed to be easy.”
Mitchell picked up the box and gave it a wry glance. “Did Grace also mention that you’re supposed to remove the plastic? Because the box does.”