“What are y’all doing here?” Jackson asked as the guys got out of their cars.
“Dude, don’t tell me you forgot about movie night.” Hands full, Pinto shoved the Jeep door closed with his foot, while Hatch retrieved two bulging shopping bags from the rear storage area.
“What are we watching?” Essie hoped it wasn’t the movies that Pinto had raved about the first time they’d met.
“You don’t want to know,” Navarre said right before Pinto replied, “Leprechaun! I brought the next three in the series, includingLeprechaun in the Hoodwith Ice-T. You’re gonna love ’em.”
Jackson groaned as he opened the door in the garage that led into the house. “You actually own those?”
“Hey, don’t judge. I picked them up cheap at a yard sale.”
Essie eyed the suitcase of Budweiser that Pinto was carrying. “We’re going to need more alcohol than that.”
“I don’t think there’s enough in the state,” Hatch drawled.
Pinto scoffed. “This from the guy who subjected us toAlien Apocalypse.”
“Say what you want, that’s a fun movie. You can never go wrong with Bruce Campbell.”
“Yeah, but Bruce went wrong with that movie,” Navarre shot back, and Hatch flipped him off.
The guys continued to give each other good-natured grief as they swung into what Essie assumed was their ritual preparations for movie night: snacks in bowls, beer in the fridge, while Pinto cued up the movie and Navarre brought two chairs in from the garage so there would be enough seats for everyone.
“I love what you guys did with the place,” Pinto called out from the living room. “You really ought to frame that shotgun grouping by the window for posterity.”
Jackson snorted in amusement. He’d made the same joke a few nights ago as he draped a comforter over the back of the couch to conceal the bullet holes. The new window and sliding glass door had been installed on Tuesday, but the house still had a ways to go before it would look like it did prior to Bazarov’s attack. If she remembered correctly, Jackson and Navarre didn’t plan on tackling the drywall repairs until after the new kitchen cabinets were installed.
While Essie waited for the popcorn in the microwave to finish popping, Jackson slid a frozen pizza in the oven.
“Navarre picked up some coconut rum at the liquor store,” he said as he closed the oven door. When he crossed to the fridge, she could practically feel the heat of his body as he brushed past. “If you want, I can fix you a drink.”
Tempting; he made a mean coconut pineapple martini—one of her favorites—but she wasn’t ready for a drink just yet. “Thanks. Maybe later.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” she drawled. “I want to be sober enough to enjoy the cinematic wonders ofLeprechaun.”
Hatch chuckled as he left the room, a beer in one hand and a bowl of Doritos in the other, leaving them alone. When the microwave beeped, Essie took out the bag of popcorn, and the buttery aroma filled the room as she emptied it into a plastic bowl.
“Movie’s starting,” Navarre called out from the living room.
“Be there in a sec,” Jackson answered, but his gaze was locked on her like a laser-guided missile. His smile went from amused to carnal, and it felt as though the temperature in the room shot up a good twenty degrees.
She tried not to notice the way his Six Points polo shirt pulled across his broad chest, or how the fabric of his pants strained against his heavy thighs. She failed on both counts, miserably. “Meet in your room after everyone clears out?”
A pair of frown lines appeared between his eyes. “Ain’t nobody clearing out until morning.”
Essie’s stomach sank. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I wish I was.”
She refused to admit defeat, at least not yet. There had to be a workaround. “We could still—”
“Uh-uh, not with Pinto and Hatch passed out in the living room. I don’t want them hearing all the noises you make.”
“I can be quiet.”
“I’d rather you not.”
