Bachelor's Special by Christine Warner Page B

You didn’t need to go to the extra work.”
    “Not a fan. I like the real thing. So, are you in, feel like watching an action flick?”
    Chet shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the back of a chair. “What are you watching?”
    “I’m in a Bruce Willis kind of mood. How does Die Hard sound?” She grabbed another piece of popcorn, and instead of tossing it into the air, popped it between her lips.
    She stood before him in her well-worn, fuzzy pink slippers, pink pajama pants featuring a yellow bunny covering his mouth, and a matching shirt that read Happy Bunny hates mornings. She looked damn adorable. But he could do the friendship thing, and this was the perfect time to prove it to himself. “Sounds good.”
    “How was your Sunday lunch with the family?” Jill poured a second glass of soda with ice and handed it to him before they made their way to the theater.
    “Nothing new, except for my mom and Jared arguing about the wedding. Mom wants a huge affair, and at this point Jared is threatening to elope.” Chet laughed.
    “And Mel?”
    “Isn’t saying a word.”
    “But Mel thrives on words.” Jill plopped into an oversized reclining theater chair and kicked up the foot rest.
    “She is wisely letting Jared handle Mom.” Chet couldn’t help but smile. Their talk the other night had really helped. Jill seemed so relaxed now, and he liked that she could be at ease in his home, and especially around him.
    She handed him the remote. “Here, I know guys like the power.”
    “Only if we’re flicking through the stations.” He grinned, placing his cup in the holder and settling into his seat.
    When Chet started the movie, the lights grew dim. Jill placed the popcorn bowl on her thigh so that it was propped against the arm rest and easily reached by both of them. From the corner of his eye, he watched as she repeatedly tossed pieces into the air, then caught each one in her mouth, never taking her eyes from the screen.
    “You never miss.”
    “Huh?” Jill managed around a mouthful of popcorn as she turned toward him.
    “The popcorn. How the hell do you do that? You’re not even paying attention, yet you can throw it into the air and catch it every time.”
    “Years of practice. Don’t tell me you can’t do it?” She jabbed him in the bicep with her elbow.
    “I’ve never really tried.”
    She turned in her seat, forgetting the movie. “What type of childhood did you have?”
    Chet laughed, deep and from the gut. Something he found he did quite often with Jill. “I guess it wasn’t a good one if I haven’t mastered the art of popcorn catching.”
    “Almost abusive.” She chuckled, throwing another kernel in the air and crunching it between her teeth.
    “Show off.”
    “Whiner.”
    “Let’s put that to the test.” He grabbed a fistful of popcorn.
    “Are you challenging me?” Her smile lit up the dim room.
    “You betcha. Loser has to cook the winner a steak dinner on the grill.”
    “With all the fixings. Corn, salad, garlic bread, and baked ’tato.” Even in the near darkness he witnessed the sassy rise of one fine eyebrow.
    “Done.” He held out his free hand and they shook on it.
    He nailed the first shot— barely —catching the popcorn in the corner of his mouth.
    “Lucky.” Jill tossed her piece high, closed her eyes, and caught it between her teeth.
    “Show off.”
    She shrugged. “More like experience.”
    After several minutes and no misses, Jill laughed outright. “Okay, I think you’re a liar.”
    “No way.” He tossed up two pieces and caught them both, almost choking at the wide-eyed expression she shot him.
    “Okay, you want to play?” Jill tossed up three pieces. The first and second piece landed dead center in her mouth, but the third ricocheted off the tip of her nose and bounced back in the bowl. She glanced from the bowl to meet his grin. “Uh, do we get a freebie?”
    “Although I’d like to say yes, that wasn’t an agreed-upon term before we