Relying On Ben and Jerry (Waltham #1)

Chapter Fourteen: So Who IS On First?

“Quinton!” I feigned surprise widening my eyes. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Nothing much,” he replied skeptically, but he still smiled at me so I guess that was a good thing. He glanced into the house behind me as if expecting to see someone else hovering there with the binoculars and red hands, but Kline had disappeared the moment I had attempted to strangle her upstairs a handful of seconds ago. He frowned. “So how has your evening been so far?”

“Alright,” I told him with a shrug, crossing my arms tightly over my chest as the cold chill came into the house with the wind, pinching at my bare skin. I couldn’t even fathom how he could be wearing a shirt that exposed his very impressive arms that much in a temperature like this.

He noticed. “I’m sorry,” he started, but I shook my head, silencing him.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said with a smile. “Actually, I’m kind of still wondering why you’re here.”

“What?” he asked.

“What?” I returned.

He shook his head once, fast. “Well I’m kind of wondering about those pajamas.”

“Do you want to come in?” I blurted out. My face turned red and I bit down on my tongue, wishing that the earth would just open up and swallow me whole. “I mean, since it’s so cold outside . . .”

“Sure,” Quinton said, having to know that something was up and that I normally didn’t act as spastically, but he was at least willing to act like I wasn’t as creepy as I knew I was being right now. I stumbled out of the doorway to let him in, but he hesitated at the threshold. “Is that cat still here?” he whispered, glancing around nervously.

As if Watson knew, his hissing entered the front room, making Quinton flinch. I couldn’t help it—I grinned.

“You’re afraid of a tabby,” I pointed out, giggling despite myself. He shot me a glare, his face a little pale.

“A murderous tabby with sharp claws,” he argued strongly, laughing a little. He cautiously stepped inside, rubbing the palms of his hands together. “Jeez, your house is so warm.”

“I’m from Florida,” I reminded him “We don’t do cold.”

“I can’t blame you,” he said. “In this kind of weather, I prefer to watch my neighbors from the comfort of my warmed house as well.”

Breathe, Mallory, breathe! I screamed internally.

“It makes the experience much more enjoyable,” I commented easily, shrugging. His dimples started to show, his smile amused. “I’m sure you can speak from experience as well, having seen my wicked dance moves.”

“I can’t deny it,” he announced a little proudly, “but I also denounce your use of military-grade equipment.”