Chapter Thirteen
The movie I chose was at four-thirty — not that I had a lot of choices, since if you wanted to sit in the big auditorium at the Chinese Theater, you went with whatever they were showing — and so I met Allan at his house at a little before four. He looked rested and relaxed, casually handsome in jeans and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, since the weather had warmed since that rainy Christmas Eve and temperatures were kissing the low seventies.
“Did you have a nice Christmas?” he asked as he bent and kissed me on the cheek.
Just that brief brush of his lips against my skin was enough to send a welcome little thrill down my back. “Very nice,” I replied. “I ate way too much, and my grandmother sent me home with a ton of cookies. In fact, here are some for you.”
I
