Page 4 of Happily Evan After

“Okay. Well, I was born and raised in Connecticut. I’d much rather be hot than cold. And I think shrimp Pad Thai is the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

It’s not until he smirks that I realize what I said could be twisted into something sexual, but he doesn’t bother grasping at my low-hanging fruit.

“Do you have strong opinions about movies?” he asks.

“Of course. Doesn’t everyone?”

He lifts one of those muscular shoulders. “Some people are weird and don’t like movies.”

“People are weird,” I agree.

“Cough it up, Dimples. Tell me what your favorite movie is.”

I should probably be embarrassed by how much his charm is working on me, but instead, I just smile. “Favorite movie,” I say, “I think I’d have to go with The Shawshank Redemption.”

“Bullshit!” Lana says. Because, of course, that’s when she’d walk back over to me.

The sexy man’s chuckle is authentic, and he winks at me. “Busted.”

I roll my eyes and shoot a glance at my friend. “You don’t know everything about me.”

“Pretty sure I do,” Lana says without missing a beat. Then she points at the hot guy. “Her favorite movie is The Mummy.”

I close my eyes. She just had to go there.

“Is that so?” he asks. “Well, Dimples, it looks like you and I have all sorts of things in common.”

“Everyone likes that movie,” I argue.

“Same favorite movie. I think you’re sexy. You think I’m sexy.”

“I never said that,” I say.

“Just going by the ‘wow’ from before,” he says.

“He’s got you there, sugar tits,” Lana says. “She totally thinks you’re sexy,” she says directly to him.

“I’m going to give you a pass on the movie thing,” he says. “Because Shawshank is a great film.” Somehow he’s standing closer to me and his hot breath is against my neck.

I shiver. My nipples harden.

“I think we should be honest with each other though. There’s some incredible chemistry brewing between us. I felt it the moment I first saw you and your mouthwatering soft curves.”

“What are you proposing?” I find myself asking, because for once, somehow, I haven’t driven a man away merely by being myself, and he doesn’t seem like a boring, self-absorbed twat.

“If I thought you’d agree to marry me, I’d whisk you off to Vegas or Jamaica and make it happen.”

Lana walks off to mix another drink.

“But I’m guessing that’s asking too much,” he says, “so instead I would take a night. One night to make you forget the real world and let a man worship your body.”

One finger trails down my arm, and I shiver in response. “How do I know I can trust you?”

He stands to his full height so he can look directly at me. “Do you want to see my ID? I have a download of my last medical tests, I’m clean on everything.” He pulls his wallet out. “My name is⁠—”

I put a finger to his lips and shake my head.

So far, all the things we said—and not said—have been perfect.