“What’re you doing here?”
I’m irritated by his tone, which seems to indicate he thinks I’m stalking him. “Watching a movie.
You?”
“Same. What’re the odds?”
“Pretty good, considering movie theaters are where they usually show movies.”
A corner of his mouth quirks. “Smartass.”
“Yes, but you have to take some responsibility. You make it so easy for me.”
The quirk turns into a full-blown smile. I try not to notice how handsome he looks with a few day’s scruff darkening his jaw, his hair in need of the attention of a comb, and wearing a grayish Tshirt that could pass for a dishrag, but fail.
The man could be naked and covered in motor oil and still look incredible.
Now that I think of it, that’s a bad example.
He walks closer with his long, easy stride, still smiling. “Are you in the
