She's Got Dibs (14 page)

“I think I have some bottled water and maybe a few rice cakes.”

“Is this one of those times when you’re exaggerating?”

She lifted an eyebrow.

“Okay, we need to stop for supplies.” He stepped to the counter and handed the movies to the young girl behind the register. “Unlike you and most dromedaries I know, I can’t go for extended periods of time without food.”

She feigned a laugh at his witty repartee, but her reaction quickly died when he pulled his money clip from his front pocket. Oh no, not this again. “You don’t need to pay for everything, you know. I can pay for the movies.” She rummaged in her purse for her wallet.

“It was my idea to rent them in the first place. Just let me pay.”

Plus the bill was ten dollars. Not exactly breaking the bank. She sighed and crossed her arms. “Fine.”

“Good.”

They shared a smile.

****

Upon entering the small grocery store near Tessa’s condo, Dibs jerked a cart from the silver row snaking along the wall at the same time she selected a small basket from the stack near the door. They zeroed in on to each other from across the entrance.

She slumped. Just how much food was he planning on getting? “There’s only the two of us. You sure we need that big cart?”

He hesitated, pushed the cart back in and—always the gentleman—slipped the basket handles from her hand.

She trailed him through the store, Dibs dumping chips, pretzels, popcorn, a bag of miniature candy bars, and some soda into the basket. In the next aisle he tossed in a box of snack cakes and a package of cookies.

Wait…his body? With all those carbs? Not possible. She stared into the basket. “Are you planning on eating all that tonight?”

“Maybe.” He added a box of crackers and a can of spray cheese.

“You’re going to be completely sick.” She plucked a large box of raisins and a box of granola bars off the shelf and Dibs’s chin lowered as his gaze followed them into the basket.

“No wonder you weigh twenty pounds.”

“I weigh a bit more than twenty pounds. Besides, if I ate all that junk, I’d go into a glycemic coma.”

He smiled and started for the register, set the basket on the conveyor belt and headed for the front of the store. A moment later, he returned with a pretty bouquet of fresh spring flowers and added them to their purchases.

But surely they were not meant for her…or where they? “What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m buying flowers.”

“Because?”

“Because I thought you might like them.” He retrieved his money clip and lifted his brows at the cashier.

Tessa shifted her weight onto one hip. The idea of Dibs buying her flowers…this movie night, his paying for everything…the whole thing smelled fishy. She’d never agreed to go on a date with him and yet his actions pointed in exactly that direction. Maybe the time had come for ground rule number two. She pushed his hand. “Put your money away, Rockefeller. I’m buying.”

“I’ve got it.”

“You paid for the movies. In fact, you’ve paid for everything since the day we met. I’m buying the snacks.”

He searched her face, and then shrugged. “Okay.” He picked up the flowers and set them to the side.

She squinted at him before refocusing on the cashier. “Get the flowers, too, please.”

“I’m getting those.” He smiled at the cashier.

“
I’m
getting those.”

The woman waited in silence, flowers poised over the scanner, wide eyes darting between them.

“Why are you making this a big deal?” he asked quietly.

“Why are
you
making it a big deal?”

He snapped his jaw shut and returned his money to his pocket.

Nearing the car, Dibs lifted the bags from her hand and opened the passenger side door. She sat, scowling at him through the window when he closed the door. He wasn’t getting it. And even if she had read his signals wrong, she didn’t want to be grouped in amongst those idiots from his past. No, thanks.

By the time he loaded the bags in the trunk and folded his impressive height into the car, she had a barb perched and ready on her tongue.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” she announced.

“I’m a pain in the ass because I wanted to buy you flowers.” He slammed his door.

“That’s not the point.”

“Why do women always have to make things so complicated?”

Yeah, right. Let’s blame women, because most men lacked the ability-to-think-things-through gene. She jammed her seatbelt in place. “The point, thank you so much for asking, is that we’re friends. And while some friends might be comfortable taking advantage of your generosity, I’m not. I’m perfectly happy splitting our expenses. I’m not a complete charity case, you know.”

Dibs remained silent as he started the car and merged into the oncoming traffic. “Okay.”

“As a matter of fact, I do pretty darn well for myself. Just because I don’t have a bazillion dollars, doesn’t mean I’m not doing well.”

His eyebrows inched toward that playful cowlick in his hairline. “A bazillion dollars?”

“Not many people can say they own a successful business at twenty-nine, you know.” She shook her finger at him. “I’ve worked hard to get where I am, and I don’t appreciate you treating me like I’m poverty-stricken when I’m not. If I want to pay, then just let me pay.”

“Okay, Rex.”

She studied the hint of amusement in his eyes before bobbing her head in a firm nod. “Good.”

“Fine.”

“Thank you for the flowers.”

He grinned. “You’re welcome.”

****

Tessa kicked off her sneakers near the front door, two of the grocery bags in hand as she traipsed into the kitchen. Dibs followed into the living room and jumbled his bags onto the breakfast counter. “Nice place.”

“Thanks.” She went up on her toes for a blue ceramic pitcher.

“Been here long?” he asked loudly.

“Almost four years.” She turned on the water, leaning back to peer over the counter when he disappeared down the hallway. A twinge of uncertainty sprang loose and vaulted around in her stomach. No one but Tiffany had ever been inside her bedroom. Inviting Dibs over, she’d never considered his presence would also include an impromptu tour. But it
was
customary for friends to share their inner sanctums, right? Besides, it wasn’t like he’d dragged her in there with him. Unless…

“How many bedrooms?”

She expelled a breath in relief. Never mind the small note of disappointment following in its wake. Things between them were better as friends. Safer. “One office, one bedroom!” After trimming the ends from the flowers, she dropped them into the pitcher and fluffed the petals. Dibs entered the kitchen from the hallway. “Everything meet with your approval?” she asked.

“It’s very nice.” He fished the sodas from the bag, opened the refrigerator…and froze. “You have nothing in here.”

“Yes, I do.” She gathered her damp hair and headed for the guest bathroom.

“Where?”

“In the door!” A low laugh caressed the back of her throat as she envisioned the confused frown on Dibs’s face when he spotted the assortment of small fingernail polish bottles she stored in the egg compartments.

“That doesn’t count!” he yelled.

“Says who?” She brushed her hair and clipped it on top of her head, then returned to the living room, glancing into the kitchen when he shut the refrigerator and opened the freezer.

“Okay, why do you own this appliance?”

“It came with the place.” She turned on the television. “And it makes ice.”

He closed the freezer and opened her cupboards, one by one, working in a slow circle around her kitchen.

Apparently he had no misgivings about making himself at home. Not that his snooping bothered her. The kitchen was an altogether different animal than the bedroom. “Looking for something?”

“You have no food anywhere in your kitchen.”

“When I get hungry, I go to the store, buy something, and eat it.” She untangled the DVDs from the bag.

“You never keep food in your kitchen just in case?”

“In case what?”

“In case you get hungry.”

“I just told you what I do when I get hungry.”

He stopped in the middle of the kitchen, fists balanced on his hips. “You are not normal, you know that?”

She snorted. “I’d be distressed by that comment if you weren’t such a whack job. Which movie first?”

“Mine.” He entered the living room with a can of soda and an armload of snacks, and dumped everything onto the coffee table. Reaching one hand between his shoulder blades, he fisted the back of his sweater and whisked it over his head.

The white T-shirt beneath crawled up his tapered back and ribbed sides. The front edge slipped from his waistband, exposing the downy dark hair along the sculpted planes of his lower belly. Her jaw nearly unhinged when every muscle rippled, the sleeves of his T-shirt taut and straining around his biceps as he tugged the sweater off his arms.

The man could eat all the carbs he wanted. A body like that was downright criminal.

“You don’t mind, do you?” He balled up the sweater and tossed it onto one of the chairs circling the small dining table. “My sweater is still damp.”

“I don’t mind at all.” Not by a long shot. If the T-shirt was wet, he could always strip that off, as well. Too bad his jeans were dry, because…
Dammit!
She internally smacked herself. Maybe if the man wasn’t such a Chippendale’s poster boy, her mind would leave off dabbling in such cataclysmic territory.

She fumbled the disc into the player and settled beside him on the couch, then followed his lead and peeled off her damp socks. “Oh, shit.”

Dibs paused with a pretzel in midair. “What’s the matter?”

“I smeared a nail.” She pointed to her big toe.

“Stop the presses.” He crammed the pretzel in his mouth.

“Dammit.” She strode to the refrigerator, plucked the bright red polish from the door, and flopped back onto the couch.

“You’re doing that now?” he asked.

She braced her foot against the coffee table, daubing the brush to her nail. “It’s supposed to be nice tomorrow, and I might want to wear sandals.”

“That stuff stinks.” He waved a hand in front of his face.

“Not as bad as this movie is going to.” She returned the brush to the bottle, wiggling her toes. “There. What do you think?”

He glanced over, hitting the play button on the remote. “Very sexy.”

His compliment sent a pleasant zing along her nerve endings, but her smile faded as the movie began and quickly gathered momentum. Like that dreadful anticipation right before a jack-in-the-box made its ghastly appearance, her unease mounted, the plot growing more and more appalling with each passing moment. When the youngest member of the family skittered a disjointed crabwalk up the wall, she swept the blanket off the back of the couch and burrowed beneath its warmth.

Every time a door slammed, she jumped. If the music intensified, she braced herself and curled the blanket over her fingers, holding the protective barrier against her cheeks. When a horrific ghoul lunged at the screen, she squawked. That was the final straw.

She closed her eyes and dropped her forehead against Dibs’s shoulder. “I’m going to have nightmares for a week. This is too scary for me.”

He reached over her with his arm and brought her cheek to his chest, one large comforting hand covering her head. “It’s almost over. Just let me see the end.”

She snuggled under his shoulder, safe and cozy, his steady heartbeat a constant reassurance in her ear. And she had to admit, being held by Dibs was nice. No strings attached. No silly bar to meet or suffocating expectations. She wrapped an arm around his waist and cuddled deeper against him.

The movie finally ended and he rubbed a hand along her shoulder. “Okay. All done.”

She dropped the blanket, but wasn’t quite ready to leave his side. A very long time had passed since she’d allowed herself the security of a strong arm around her shoulders. “Thank God.” She shoved her legs against his. “I can’t believe you made me watch that. It was completely revolting. And you ate through the whole thing. How can you eat with all that blood and goo flying around?”

“Ah, you know that’s all fake, right?”

“Who cares? It’s completely disgusting.” She stood to exchange the DVDs in the player, but was momentarily distracted by Dibs’s broad shoulders passing through the kitchen doorway.

“You want anything?” he called.

“I’ll take a cookie!”

He reappeared with the opened package of cookies, one sticking out of his mouth, a bottle of water tucked under his arm. He parked himself beside her on the couch and extended his long legs on top of the coffee table.

“Get your feet down.” She poked his thigh.

“I need to stretch out. My stomach is killing me.”

Her hand dropped like a dead weight onto her lap, her half-eaten cookie abandoned. “You’re kidding. I wonder how the heck that happened?”

“Come on. Let me put my feet up.” He turned in his spot, wedged a throw pillow under his head, and his heavy legs descended to rest on her thighs.

She crossed her arms and waited for him to finish shifting around, punching the pillow and scooting lower until he was sufficiently settled. Uh-huh. This whole thing led in exactly one direction. “Are you sure you’re comfortable now? Could I possibly get you a blanket or perhaps an antacid?”

“Nope, I’m good.” He faced the television.

“You are so full of shit.” She paused the opening credits. “You made me suffer through that nightmarish freak-fest which practically made me ill, and now you’re planning to sleep through my movie.”

“No, I’m not.” He nestled down farther in the cushions, his legs briefly clutching her thighs.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered. “Go right ahead and fall asleep. Just don’t be surprised when you wake up and both your eyebrows are gone.”

He laughed. “I’m not falling asleep, Rex. I’m watching this movie with you.”

Twenty minutes later, a muffled snore grated from the other end of the couch.

Her shoulders fell as she stared at the ceiling. Yep. Okay. Time for some serious payback. She trailed her eyes over the sculpted features of his face, down his chest and arms, to where his hands lay resting on his stomach. A wicked grin curved the corners of her lips. She stretched over his legs, snagged the fingernail polish off the coffee table, and unscrewed the top.