Page 73 of Playing to Win
Callie looked at him in horror. “Not you, too!”
“What?”
“My dad loves that movie!”
“I knew he was one smart man.”
“I think the only reason he likes it is because Mel Gibson plays a bad ass named Max.”
“Is there any other reason to like a movie?”
Callie rolled her eyes. Food in hand, she climbed on Kyle’s couch and sat cross-legged, placed a pillow in her lap and put her plate of food on top of it and glass of water on the raw oak coffee table in front of her. Once she was settled, she looked at Kyle expectantly. “Well?”
“Well what?” Kyle asked, his mouth full of fajita.
“Well, are you going to come sit down and watch the movie with me, so you can agree that it is the best one ever written?”
Kyle grinned at her and Callie felt her heart skip a beat. She sure was a sucker for those dimples. “It depends,” he told her.
“On what?”
“On whether you give me some of that cake I bought you.”
Callie pretended to think about it. “Well, that depends, too.”
“On what?”
“On after we eat if you’ll let me lie on a pillow in your lap and you play with my hair?” Callie batted her eyelashes.
“I think that can be arranged,” he told her with a wink. “Besides, I know you’ll give me some cake anyway.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yep. That way you won’t have to move up into the plus size cheerleader suit.”
Kyle didn’t knowwhat he enjoyed more—watching the cheesy eighties love story, which he actually had to admit, was pretty funny, or watching Curly quote the movie word for word and laugh at all her favorite parts before they even came on the screen. As the credits began to roll, Callie pulled her head off his lap and turned toward him.
“So,” she said, her hair in wild tangles where he had been playing with it for so long that his hand had gone numb in the process. He made several fists in a row, flexing and relaxing the muscles, trying to bring the feeling back. “Did you like it?”
“I don’t know which part I liked best,” he said with a smile.
“I say that every time. Sometimes I think it’s the ‘Never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line!’ line. Classic. Sometimes I think it’s the ‘Liar! Liiii-arrr! I’m not a witch, I’m your wife!’ Or ‘Have fun storming the castle!’ There’s just so many quotable lines; I can’t ever decide which one is my favorite.”
Callie paused in her rambling. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I was just thinking you are probably the cutest thing I have ever seen.” Kyle was rewarded with a blush that tinged her cheeks a rosy pink. “Come here, you.” He pulled her to his chest and planted a kiss to the top of her head. Kyle breathed in the smell of her hair, enjoying the feel of her against his chest. She fit so well in the crook of his arm. “So what’s this nonsense about me not wanting to talk to you ever again once you tell me something?”
Callie pulled herself out of his embrace and looked at him with serious eyes. “Promise you won’t judge.”
Kyle refrained from rolling his eyes. “Curly, I’m pretty sure the one I will be judging is the ass who made my job convincing you I was a good guy even though I am an athlete so hard. So spill.”
Kyle watched as Callie squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, closed her eyes and began to speak. “Okay, so…there was this guy—”
“Shocker!” Kyle said in his most girly voice, holding his hand up in the air and shaking them, jazz hands style. His stunt had its intended effect. Callie snorted with laughter and punched him in the shoulder.
“Kyle! Stop it!”
“Okay, okay. Serious face.” He paused as he pretended to work on a serious demeanor. “Serious achieved. Go.”
