Opposites Distract by Judi Lynn Page B

you like Riesling? I noticed you drink white with Tessa. She thought it might be your favorite.”
    She kicked off her boots and pushed them close to the wall, under her coat. “You didn’t have to try so hard. The popcorn would have done it.”
    â€œI could have saved myself fifteen bucks? I’ll remember that next time.”
    â€œNext time?” She bit her bottom lip to keep from smirking. “You bought all of the movies, didn’t you, the whole set?”
    â€œWho else am I going to watch them with? If anybody on my construction crew sees them at my place, I’ll never hear the end of it. I’ll leave them for the kids when I go home.”
    She shouldn’t. She should write. But it was still early. They hadn’t stayed at Ian and Tessa’s that long. “I’m game. I like being spoiled. I’ll expect wine next time, too.”
    His eyes glittered, and he looked downright naughty. “That’s why I bought a whole case of it.”
    She slapped her thigh and laughed. “You and I could be great friends!”
    He sobered so fast, it surprised her. He blinked and sounded surprised himself. “I would have never guessed—a woman friend who’s not a sister.” He looked dumb-founded.
    She snorted. An unladylike habit. Okay, another unladylike habit. “You’re thinking too much. I’ll help you with the popcorn.”
    With all their snacks ready, they sat, side by side, on the couch, watching the movie. When the enormous snake in the Chamber of Secrets attacked Harry, Brody’s eyes went wide. At the end of the movie, he said, “Isn’t that a little scary for kids?”
    Harmony fought back a yawn. “What kid doesn’t like to be scared?”
    He studied her. “You’re probably right. It’s only when you become an adult that you try to play everything safe. No surprise bumps. Lots of security. Maybe sometimes, we play things too safe.”
    â€œBeats me. I just try to keep out of harm’s way.”
    He held her gaze, suddenly thoughtful. “What harmed you? Because something did, didn’t it?”
    She threw up her hands. “It’s too late for deep discussions. Come on. Let’s rinse our dirty dishes. I only talked into the wee hours in the morning in my college days.”
    He chuckled, following her to the kitchen. “Okay, in that case, I’ll see you in the morning, but why do I have a feeling you dodge out on deep discussions every chance you get?”
    It was her turn to chuckle. “Now you know. I like to play in the shallow end of the pool. And you won’t see me in the morning. You’ll be happy if I remember to brush my teeth for lunch.”
    He rinsed the bowls and handed them to her to put in the dishwasher. “You don’t take much seriously, but you’re a fanatic about your writing. When did you start?”
    â€œWhen I was young. Writing was always an outlet, an escape, for me.” Barricaded in her room, she’d make up happy worlds, full of people she wanted to know. Later, in high school, she discovered urban fantasies. The female protagonists were kick-ass women, self-sufficient. And she knew—that’s what she’d be as soon as she moved out on her own.
    â€œWhen did it become a career?” He leaned against the sink counter, genuinely curious, she could tell.
    â€œIt took a while. I worked in a factory during the day and I wrote at night.” And through her string of rejection letters, she’d watched the dance of the unfaithful as men and women told their spouses they had to work overtime, so that they could sleep with each other. Her dad had been unfaithful, she was sure. Her mother didn’t care, as long as he paid the bills.
    What was the point? Why not pay your own bills and be rid of men? She shook off the old memories. “I’d better get some work done before I go to bed. I have five pages to