I gaped. I had never seen such a fancy TV. It was like a spaceship.
I was a quick learner though; so it didn’t take me long to figure out how to work the fancy remote.
“Thor?” He chuckled, when I had made my selection.
“I always did have a thing for muscular superheroes,” I winked. Oh my God. Was I flirting? I was totally flirting.
Trent chuckled. “I remember all those superhero shirts you used to wear. Do you still have them?”
“I sleep in them.”
He made a noise in the back of his throat, causing heat to rise to the surface of my cheeks. “I like those shirts. A lot.”
“Me too,” I squeaked.
Jesus Christ, the man was making me hot and bothered just by talking about my old ratty superhero t-shirts.
The movie started and Trent turned off the lights. “You want some popcorn?” He asked before he sat down.
“No thanks.”
He picked up Dean and plopped down beside me, depositing the little boy in his lap. The couch dipped with his added weight and I slid towards him, stopping when my left side was firmly pressed against his right side. I so didn’t want to watch a movie right now.
I forced myself to focus on the screen, and not on the way his warmth felt beside me, or how I really wanted to tilt my head up and kiss his jaw, then his lips, then…
You knew you had it bad, when even the sight of Chris Hemsworth couldn’t distract you.
I found my eyes growing heavy, and my head fell to Trent’s shoulder.
I wasn’t falling asleep. I wasn’t. Okay, I totally was.
But he felt so good, and he kept humming, the sound calming me. Eventually I couldn’t resist it any longer, and fell asleep with my head rested on his shoulder, and a small smile on my lips.
???
I was being jostled awake, rather rudely I might add. I blinked my eyes open to find Trent’s brother hovering above us.
“Trace, stop it, that’s not nice,” a female voice piped in.
“Dude, wake up,” he smacked Trent’s cheek.
Trent woke with a start. “What the—”
“Tsk, tsk,” Trace waggled a finger in front of Trent’s face, holding Dean, “sleeping on the job, baby brother, that’s not allowed.”
“Sorry,” Trent stood, reaching his arms above his head to stretch. His shirt rode up exposing his smooth and toned stomach. I itched to reach out and have that skin beneath my hands.
Trace cuddled Dean in his arms, the child completely undisturbed, his eyes still closed and his small thumb stuck in his mouth.
A woman, who didn’t appear to be much older than me, peered around Trace. “Hi, I’m Olivia,” she reached her hand out to shake mine. Her voice was light and pleasant, and there was something so sweet about her…she was the kind of person you couldn’t help but instantly like. She was also beyond gorgeous with long dark brown wavy hair, pouty lips, and an adorably upturned nose. It was obvious this was Trace’s wife, and Dean’s mother.
“Rowan,” I replied, taking her hand and shaking it.
“Oooh,” she drew out the word, her eyes flicking to Trace. “I’ve heard about you.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Trent grumbled under his breath.
I blushed at Olivia’s words. They’d talked about me? That was embarrassing.