Forgiving Lies

“Yes . . . ?”

“You, uh, wa

He mouthed the words lock-out night before recognition flashed through his gray eyes. “Mason with Candice?”

“Yep.”

“You don’t have to ask or have a reason, Rach. You’re welcome here whenever.”

My eyes drifted over the colorful artwork covering his shoulders and arms and I somehow made it into the apartment without ru

“So did you get tired of hanging out at Starbucks for hours on end, or did they finally kick you out?”

I huffed and shook my head. Such an ass. Spi

“I don’t think so, Sour Patch.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me back until I was standing in front of the couch. “Sit.”

“I’m not a dog.”

He rolled his eyes. “Sit down, woman. I’ll be right back.” With a shove strong enough to send me down to the couch, he smiled wryly and turned toward his bedroom.

“Put a shirt on while you’re in there!”

He snorted.

Kash

HELL NO, I’M not putting a shirt on. She could act all she wanted. There was no mistaking that she was, at the very least, attracted to me. Her cheeks would flush whenever her eyes trailed over me, completely giving her away.

No need to make it easy for her by covering up.

Looking over my shoulder to make sure she was still on the couch, I shut my door and grabbed at my things. We’d just gotten back from being at the department for last-minute meetings all day, and my gun, holster, badge, and card to get into the department were all sitting on the bed. I walked quickly into the closet and put everything but my gun on the top shelf, where even I couldn’t see them, before going back and putting my gun in the nightstand. After taking one more look around to make sure I hadn’t missed anything, I walked back out to the living room.

Rachel’s brow furrowed for a minute when she saw me, but not two seconds later, a blush stained her cheeks. Quickly averting her eyes, she looked back at the TV and continued scrolling through the guide. When she gasped, I rushed toward her, but she just looked up at me with the widest grin before pressing more buttons on the remote.

“Wait. Do you already have this movie?”

“The A-Team? No.”

With a disappointed shake of her head, she hit record and clicked on the cha

I flopped down next to her on the love seat rather than going to the couch and tried not to smile when she inched away. “I’m guessing it’s a good movie?”

She did a quick double take when my words finally clicked. “Are you— Wait. You’re joking, right? You . . . you have to have seen this. You’re a guy!”

“And?”

“Oh my word. You really haven’t seen this? I’m pretty sure that’s like . . . a sin. Or against the law, at the very least. This movie is amazing.” She jumped off the couch and went over to browse through our Blu-ray collection, and when she turned back around to join me on the love seat, her face was full of pity. “It’s okay, Kash. I’ll educate you.”

Rachel set about looking up movies on the guide and setting them to record whenever they were coming on next. Some I’d seen previews for during commercials and looked fu

“Hell. No. I’m not going to watch a movie called Bridesmaids.”

“Um, actually, you will, and I’ll bet you one hundred dollars right now that you’ll willingly watch it more than once.”

“I’ll bet you two hundred and a week’s worth of pancakes for breakfast that I won’t make it twenty minutes in.”

Her eyes never left the screen, and her hand never stopped clicking buttons on the remote as she set up endless movies to record, but a smug grin crossed her face and she held her free hand out to shake on the bet. “Deal.”

After we finished watching The A-Team, which was actually good—though I honestly think the best part was how damn cute Rachel looked as she quoted the entire thing—we got two movies on demand. After we finished the first one, Rachel and I wandered into the kitchen.

“This is no good.”

I stopped grabbing stuff out of the pantry and looked at her standing in front of the opened freezer. “What’s no good?”

“First, you have no taste in movies, and now you have no Ben and Jerry’s. Really, Kash . . . how did you survive all these years?”

I snorted. “We have great taste in moves. We have all the Alien movies, Rocky, Rambo, the Die Hard movies . . .”

“Exactly, nothing fu

“We have Office Space!”

“True. You deserve a gold star for that one.” She shut the freezer and faced me. “But literally, your collection probably came off a list of the top hundred guy movies or something. You need a little variety, and you need good ice cream. So thank the good Lord above I finally have a legit reason to ask you to put a shirt on, because we need to run to the store.”

I set everything back in the pantry haphazardly and shut the door before stepping right up to her and backing her into the refrigerator. “Why can’t you just admit you’re attracted to me, Rachel?” I asked into her ear as I pressed my body against hers.

She swallowed audibly and shook her head as if to clear her mind before speaking. “Because I’m not? I’m not attracted to guys who look like they’re Photoshopped and who have bigger chests than most girls I know.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed loudly and had to pull back slightly when the movement and being pressed up against her made my jeans shrink a size. “Liar.” Even if her voice hadn’t gone all breathy, I still hadn’t forgotten her blush.

“And I really hate your tattoos.”

“No you don’t.”

“And your lip ring and your eyes. And your hair, it drives me nuts. You really need to cut it. Or better yet, one morning you’ll wake up and I will have shaved it off while you slept.”

I smiled and let my nose run along her jaw, loving the quick breath she took and how her eyes fluttered shut when I did. “Good to know your favorite things about me, Sour Patch. And if you’re wondering . . . everything about you is my favorite.”

“They’re not. And I wasn’t.”

“Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night. But do you think we could wrap up this meeting about how much you want me? I really need to go buy about a dozen pints of ice cream so I can work at not looking Photoshopped anymore.”

Her eyes snapped open and darkened as she narrowed them at me. “God, you’re a

“And you’re keeping me from eating.”

“I’m not the one who isn’t dressed.”

Touché. “I think I should go like this. Maybe there will be a woman there who appreciates the way I look.” I gri