“Let’s set our drinks to the side.” The deed is done. He picks up Pop! And hands it to me. It’s short, just a few pages long. “As you’ve already told me, you’re a reader.”
“I am. Sometimes voraciously if the writing is appealing. It all depends on the topic and style.”
“And this is a short story. Or more of an outline than a story. A rough draft of sorts.” He taps the pages in my hands. “And I need your opinion regarding the piece.”
“I couldn’t,” I tell him, and attempt to pass the pages back to him.
“I insist.” He brushes fingertips against my chin, charming me. “And while you’re reading the pages, you can also watch my house for me.”
I’m completely caught off guard, disbelieving what he has just said. “Excuse me?”
His hand strays and finds my neck, casually falls down to a pec. He
