Mike’s chest rises and falls with his silent laughter. “Not into scary movies?”
“Not even a little bit,” I confess.
“I think that was the plan,” he whispers, just low enough for me to hear him.
Looking around, I see Liv, Kinley and Whitney all snuggled up, and the guys are wearing shit-eating grins. “Glad I fell asleep.”
His hold tightens. “Me too.”
After a grueling bloody ending during which I spent the majority of my time with my eyes closed, the credits begin to roll. “Thank God that’s over,” Kinley says. You can hear the relief in her voice, which causes Evan to chuckle.
I sit up and slide to the end of the love seat, and this time Mike doesn’t stop me. He turns his body, placing both feet on the floor just as Whit turns the lights on. We’re all rubbing and blinking our eyes at the brightness.
“Another?” she asks.
“I can’t take another one of those,” Kinley announces.
“Yeah, me either,” Liv agrees.
“We should probably head out and get the kids,” Evan tells Kinley.
“Yeah, it’s already past their bedtime,” she agrees. “We have an early shopping day tomorrow anyway.”
“Wedding shopping!” Liv cheers, making us all laugh.
Everyone stands and stretches, then heads upstairs. I follow the crowd, Mike behind me. We’re the last two.
“Hey.” He laces his fingers through mine and keeps me from walking up the stairs.
I turn to look at him.
“How long are you here?” he asks, rubbing his thumb across my knuckles.
“I leave Sunday. I have to be back at work Monday morning.”
“Can I see you again before you leave?”
“I don’t know what time we’ll be back tomorrow.” My heart is racing so fast, I feel like a damn teenager.
His eyes bore into mine. “Doesn’t matter.”
Do I want to see him before I go? Yes. I would be a fool not to. The attraction is stronger than I remember. Even though it’ll be a one-time thing, I don’t want to pass it up. Whatever this is, it’s too intense not to explore.
“I don’t know what Whit has planned, but I can try to stop by the bar, maybe?” I’m not really sure how to handle this.
“Give me your phone.” He holds out his hand that’s not laced with mine.
Digging into my back pocket, I unlock the screen and hand it to him. His thumb flies across the screen and I hear a low vibrating sound.
“Now you’ve got my number,” he says, handing the phone back to me.
“And apparently you have mine.”
“I do, and I plan to use it. You should do the same.”
“What time do you close tomorrow night?”
“Doesn’t matter. You call me when you’re ready.”