second helping of pecan pie. Damn, I really enjoyed the way she kept looking at me. I had to blink away in forfeit. I took a pull of my beer and turned toward the TV. The Packers were up by nine. I turned back to her and said, “Your quarterback is winning.”
She smirked and looked back down at her food.
We took our desserts to the living room. It had taken Angie awhile to decide on the pecan pie, leaving me with the pumpkin. I sipped my decaf as we sat in silence, the fire crackled and It’s a Wonderful Life played on the television. Christmas was bound to attack eventually. Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed walked across the screen. He was wearing a football uniform. I chuckled and said, “There’s your quarterback.”
“He’d do,” she replied. She swallowed down the last bit of pie and set her empty plate between us. I still had half of mine left.
I chuckled at Jimmy Stewart throwing a lasso around the moon, I could feel her watching me. “What is it you want, Angie? You want the pie?”
Angie smiled, the brightest smile I had seen since she arrived, and used Donna Reed’s line. “I’ll take it.”
I gladly handed over the last half of my pie.
“Good thing I didn’t need the lasso, cowboy.”
“Handcuffs. I don’t do lassos.” I paused when the words came out of my mouth like verbal diarrhea. I glanced over at her. Her fork halted in mid-air. Her lips slightly parted. I got up from the sofa and grabbed my mug. “It’s good pie.”
I needed to get out of that room and away from her. Too much was developing too fast. She couldn’t smile at me like that, and she certainly couldn’t kiss me like she had that morning. It didn’t matter if she was asleep or not; she still kissed me. I was still Caleb fucking Harris. I didn’t let chicks do this to me. It had only happened once before, and ended with me alone while my best friend stole my girl. Granted, with all of my current friends either married or gay, I didn’t think this would be a factor, but still … It couldn’t happen. I wouldn’t let it happen. I had promised to protect her, and I would, but to allow her to affect me the way she did … No. It had to remain professional. The problem, it seemed, was that I needed to get laid. It had been weeks of nothing but sleeping next to this girl every night. Maybe it wasn’t her hormones that were the issue. Maybe it was my hormones instead.
I stared at the back of her head, the fire glowing around her silhouette, and I leaned my elbows on the countertop. I pushed my hands through my hair and tried to gain some composure. What is she doing to me?
A knock rapped on my door. Angie shot around to look at me, her eyes widening in fear. I straightened and whispered, “Go to my bedroom and lock the door.”
She nodded, moved through the living room, and down the hall as fast as she could. I walked into the living room and waited until the door closed behind her. I moved to the closet to grab my gun. Hiding it behind my back, I moved to the front door and peeked through the peephole. I exhaled with relief and slid my gun into the waistband of my pants. I opened the door.
“Asswipe, what are you doing here?” I asked, not giving him much room to enter.
He pushed his way in anyway. “I was trying to be nice and bring you…” Paul stopped when he saw two plates on the table. Shit .
“Looks like you already ate.” He glanced around the living room and asked, “Where’s the chick?”
“No chick here.”
“Then where’s the dude? Don’t play me, bro.”
I huffed, trying to buy myself time to come up with something. No one ever came up here. My brother’s hospitality was unexpected. He took it upon himself to stroll down the hallway. He tried to open my bedroom door.
“Paul! Stop!” I yanked him away from the door. Nosy fucker.
“Your reasons are invalid for not coming to Thanksgiving. There is obviously someone here and I’m your damn brother. You haven’t been
She smirked and looked back down at her food.
We took our desserts to the living room. It had taken Angie awhile to decide on the pecan pie, leaving me with the pumpkin. I sipped my decaf as we sat in silence, the fire crackled and It’s a Wonderful Life played on the television. Christmas was bound to attack eventually. Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed walked across the screen. He was wearing a football uniform. I chuckled and said, “There’s your quarterback.”
“He’d do,” she replied. She swallowed down the last bit of pie and set her empty plate between us. I still had half of mine left.
I chuckled at Jimmy Stewart throwing a lasso around the moon, I could feel her watching me. “What is it you want, Angie? You want the pie?”
Angie smiled, the brightest smile I had seen since she arrived, and used Donna Reed’s line. “I’ll take it.”
I gladly handed over the last half of my pie.
“Good thing I didn’t need the lasso, cowboy.”
“Handcuffs. I don’t do lassos.” I paused when the words came out of my mouth like verbal diarrhea. I glanced over at her. Her fork halted in mid-air. Her lips slightly parted. I got up from the sofa and grabbed my mug. “It’s good pie.”
I needed to get out of that room and away from her. Too much was developing too fast. She couldn’t smile at me like that, and she certainly couldn’t kiss me like she had that morning. It didn’t matter if she was asleep or not; she still kissed me. I was still Caleb fucking Harris. I didn’t let chicks do this to me. It had only happened once before, and ended with me alone while my best friend stole my girl. Granted, with all of my current friends either married or gay, I didn’t think this would be a factor, but still … It couldn’t happen. I wouldn’t let it happen. I had promised to protect her, and I would, but to allow her to affect me the way she did … No. It had to remain professional. The problem, it seemed, was that I needed to get laid. It had been weeks of nothing but sleeping next to this girl every night. Maybe it wasn’t her hormones that were the issue. Maybe it was my hormones instead.
I stared at the back of her head, the fire glowing around her silhouette, and I leaned my elbows on the countertop. I pushed my hands through my hair and tried to gain some composure. What is she doing to me?
A knock rapped on my door. Angie shot around to look at me, her eyes widening in fear. I straightened and whispered, “Go to my bedroom and lock the door.”
She nodded, moved through the living room, and down the hall as fast as she could. I walked into the living room and waited until the door closed behind her. I moved to the closet to grab my gun. Hiding it behind my back, I moved to the front door and peeked through the peephole. I exhaled with relief and slid my gun into the waistband of my pants. I opened the door.
“Asswipe, what are you doing here?” I asked, not giving him much room to enter.
He pushed his way in anyway. “I was trying to be nice and bring you…” Paul stopped when he saw two plates on the table. Shit .
“Looks like you already ate.” He glanced around the living room and asked, “Where’s the chick?”
“No chick here.”
“Then where’s the dude? Don’t play me, bro.”
I huffed, trying to buy myself time to come up with something. No one ever came up here. My brother’s hospitality was unexpected. He took it upon himself to stroll down the hallway. He tried to open my bedroom door.
“Paul! Stop!” I yanked him away from the door. Nosy fucker.
“Your reasons are invalid for not coming to Thanksgiving. There is obviously someone here and I’m your damn brother. You haven’t been
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