He swallowed. As far as requests from a woman went, it was about as innocuous as it got. She wasn’t looking for a ring, or to take him to meet her mother, or to go shopping for drapes.
She wanted to watch a movie with him.
Hell, it’s not like they hadn’t done it before. There’d been plenty of times where they’d defaulted to watching a movie when their brains were spent after working on a case.
But this was different, and they both knew it.
It was on the tip of his tongue to remind Jill that he didn’t do normal. He didn’t do boyfriend.
But then the thought hit him…
Why?
Why didn’t he do normal?
Why didn’t he do boyfriend?
He’d never even tried.
And if he was going to try with anyone, it would be Jill.
She was worth at least that. She deserved so much more than normal.
“You’re freaking out,” she said on a sigh, pushing her plate away. “I just wish I knew why—”
He reached across the table and grabbed her hand before he could lose his nerve. He kept his touch gentle, his thumb gently rubbing against her palm until she calmed and looked at him.
“I’d like to stay,” he said quietly. “And as for normal… I can give you normal for me…”
She smiled. “That’s all I want. You don’t have to pretend with me. You know that, right? I know who you are. What you are. Warts and all. And that’s who I want to stay and watch a movie with me.”
Vincent felt his chest tighten a little. He wanted to take the words and cling to them. Wanted to ask if they’d still be true a week from now when he was in one of those rotten moods where he wanted to be left alone and snapped at her.
He wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t even close.
But the way she was looking at him now… as though he were everything she’d ever wanted— He couldn’t give it up. Not yet.
Vincent turned her hand over and lifted it to his lips.
“I’ll stay on one condition,” he said, running a thumb over her knuckles and holding her eyes. “You got any popcorn?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Vincent felt like a chump. An utter, foolish ass.
He took a step back and surveyed the table. It looked…
Ridiculous.
It might be better with a tablecloth, or whatever, to cover up the dented wood table he’d gotten at a garage sale a decade ago.
But the day Vincent bought a fucking tablecloth would also be the day he died, so that was out.
Maybe she wouldn’t notice with the candles. They weren’t fancy—just white stubby things he’d picked up for the odd windstorm that knocked the power out.
But combined with the flowers. Yeah. He felt like a chump.
He thought about putting them away, but she’d texted saying she was on her way over. If he got caught in the act of un-setting the table, he’d look even more foolish.
He’d just have to ride it out and hope that she didn’t: (a) laugh
(b) get the wrong idea that this was the type of guy he was going to be.
He wasn’t the hearts and flowers guy.
And yet… Vincent sipped his wine and considered the table. Apparently he was that kind of guy.
Correction:
Jill Henley made him want to be that kind of guy.
At least dinner he could pull off without feeling like a complete ass.
Vincent seasoned the steaks, poked at the potato baking in the oven for doneness, and then refilled his wine.
There was a knock at the door, and Vin glanced at the table in panic. Did he light the candles now? That seemed cheesy. But if he didn’t light them, it seemed too random… just two unlit candles chilling on his table with those Goddamn flowers.
In the end, it was decided for him.
Jill let herself in and was in the kitchen before he even had a chance to think about where he might have stashed his matches.
He waited with trepidation to see if she’d laugh in his face at the table, but she was glancing down at her phone and didn’t seem to even see the flowers.
Vincent told himself it was just as well that she wasn’t into that kind of thing. It’s not like there’d be a repeat.
And yet, he felt…
Deflated.
Then she glanced up, met his eyes, and smiled—one of those happy smiles that lit up her whole face, and Vincent was gone.
It didn’t matter if she saw the flowers or laughed at the candles, because she saw him.
And that was what mattered. All that had ever mattered.
“Wine?” he asked.
“Later,” she said, moving toward him and winding her arms around his neck before pulling his head down to hers for a long, lingering kiss.
“I was thinking…” she said, when she pulled back and gave him a sexy look.
He kissed the tip of her nose, refusing to feel embarrassed by the dopey gesture. “Yes?”
She kissed him again, briefly. “Take me out.”
He pulled back. “Huh?”
“I know, I know, you hate that stuff, but hear me out. We could get all dressed up, I could put on lipstick, high heels. Go into the city, somewhere fancy, a little overpriced…”
“I was thinking we could eat in,” he said slowly.
Jill pushed back. Her smile was still in place but she looked… disappointed. “We always eat in, Vin.”
“I know, but—”