Stranded by Noelle Stevens Page B

dishwasher, then wiping down the counters.
    When I’m done, I walk into the living room.
    He’s stretched out on the couch reading my book, and when I walk in, he smiles like everything’s fine. “I haven’t read Lord of the Rings in years,” he says. 
    “Well, it’s your book.”
    He sets it down on his stomach. “Yes, but you’re the one reading it right now.”
    I sit in the recliner and lift the foot rest, then stare at the crackling fire. 
    After a moment he sits up and holds out the book to me. “I’ll read this when you’re done.”
    “I’m not going to be able to finish while I’m here, so you might as well read it.”
    “You can take it with you, then just send it to me when you’re done.”
    I take it from him. “Do you get mail out here?”
    “I have to go to the post office to get mail here, but I’ll give you my Reno address.”
    What does this mean? Is he trying to say he wants me to know where he lives? I decide not to overanalyze his comment. “Okay.” 
    “Reading that makes me want to watch the movies,” he says.
    “I know what you mean.”
    A smile curves his mouth. “I think I have the movies here. Would you like to watch them?”
    I remember seeing a TV in his bedroom. Is he just trying to get me in there? Do I want him to try to get me in there? I don’t know. “Uh. Sure.”
    “I can even pop some popcorn.”
    I can’t hold back a smile at the look on his face—kind of like the look he got when we built the snowman, then had the snowball fight—and I rethink my assumptions that he has an ulterior motive. After all, I told him I have a boyfriend, so maybe as much as he’s been flirting with me, perhaps it was all for fun. Maybe he has a girlfriend and has no intention of cheating on her. 
    Feeling a mix of relief and disappointment, I get up from the recliner and follow him into the kitchen.
    “I just have the buttered popcorn flavor,” he says. “But it’s really good.”
    “That’s my favorite kind anyway.”
    He puts it in the microwave and a few minutes later he pours the freshly popped corn into a large bowl. Turning to me, he says, “Ready?”
    I nod, and follow him toward the stairs. As we climb the stairs, then walk down the hall, I watch his muscular body and wonder what it would feel like to have those arms around me. The thought startles me and I almost turn around and go into my room.
    “My TV’s in here,” he says as he crosses the threshold to his bedroom. He sets the popcorn on his dresser and turns to me with a smirk. “But since you’ve been in here, you already know that.”
    A blush rises on my cheeks as I vividly recall our encounter in his closet only hours before.
    He gestures to his bed. “Make yourself comfortable.” Then he turns his back on me as he opens a drawer where he stores his Blu-ray discs.
    I stand where I am, my gaze darting between him and the King-size bed, and war with myself over whether this is a mistake. Get over yourself. You’re just going to watch a movie . I remind myself that I survived the jacuzzi, and slowly climb onto the bed, then scoot back until I’m leaning against the pillows, making sure I’m as close to the edge of the bed as I can get without falling off. I watch Drake as he turns his TV on, then places a disc into a Blu-ray player. 
    A moment later he turns to me with a smile, then carries the popcorn to the bed and climbs on. He sits toward the center of the bed, so we’re only a few feet apart, then he sets the popcorn down between us. He motions to the popcorn. “Help yourself.” 
    The disc loads and the movie starts, and I settle against the pillows, trying to forget that I’m on Drake’s bed, and that he’s within easy reach of me. And that I’m within his reach as well.

Chapter Twenty One
    Half an hour into the movie, I’m enjoying it and feeling more relaxed, even eating popcorn. 
    “I’m going to get more comfortable,” Drake says, then gets off of his bed and goes into