More Than Anything (Broken Pieces #1)(59)

“Frankly? I’d really rather we spent the time at my place. My furniture is comfier. And cleaner. And my TV is much better than whatever that relic is in your living room.”

“I thought you were pissed off with me.”

His words seemed to surprise her—her eyes widened, and she tilted her head quizzically.

“Why? We had a relatively nice lunch together.” Yes, they’d had a very amicable meal together before she’d gone off with Libby to tell her all about Harris’s shameful past transgressions.

“I thought . . . well, Libby was angry with me, and I figured it was because you told her about the bet, and I thought if all of that got dredged up again, then you were probably back to hating me.”

He watched as she sucked her lush bottom lip into her mouth, the expression on her pale and strained face looking regretful.

“I had to . . .” She paused as she gathered her thoughts. “I needed to explain certain quirks in my behavior to Libby, and in doing so . . . part of my history with you had to be revealed. She knows we slept together, that one time. She doesn’t know anything of what happened immediately after that less-than-momentous occasion.”

He grimaced at her bluntness.

“Way to remind a guy of his worst hour,” he muttered.

“Or minute, as it were,” she corrected primly, surprising a rusty chuckle out of him. Against all odds, she seemed completely relaxed with him. And it confused Harris. Libby had been very cold toward him. If Tina really hadn’t told her about the bet, then what could have prompted such an extreme reaction? Surely, she couldn’t be this inordinately angry about a onetime ill-advised sexual encounter between two adults?

It made him wonder what Tina wasn’t telling him. Because he was sure there was something else going on here. And now Libby knew whatever it was, while Harris remained—once again—lost in the dark.

“So these, uh . . . behavioral quirks . . .” He prodded gently, not wanting to spoil the mood but needing to know more about what was going on with her. “They’re my fault?”

“They’re the result of various life-altering experiences. Our encounter—for want of a better word—happened to be one of those experiences.”

“I’m sorry.”

She didn’t acknowledge the apology, just held up the popcorn again.

“So? You interested?”

“Definitely!”

Three hours—and a lot of nudity, violence, and profanity—later, Harris called for an intermission. The show was good, but damn it was messed up.

“My brain needs a break,” he insisted, and Tina laughed. “This is some heavy shit, man. Let’s watch the news instead. It’s bound to be lighter viewing than what we spent the last three hours watching.”

“You’re being dramatic,” she said, still laughing. “You were completely riveted.”

“Well, I didn’t say I hated it. Just needed a break. Are you hungry?”

Tina, who had been curled up on the comfortable easy chair, unfurled her legs from beneath her butt and stretched luxuriously.

“I could eat.”

“I’m thinking takeout?”

She laughed again. “It’s like you’ve forgotten that there are only two eateries in town. Well, one and a half: I don’t think Ralphie’s serves anything other than basic pub food. Stuff like fish and chips or burgers and fries.”

“Well, I’ve heard the newly reopened MJ’s has fantastic food,” he said with a wicked grin. He was sprawled out on her sofa, his feet dangling over one arm and his head resting comfortably on the other. Her chair was at the end by his feet, so he could see her without straining his neck.

“We don’t have a takeout system in place.”

“You should get on that, soon. It’s a great way for the dumb assholes who are too stubborn to come into the restaurant to at least sample the food.”

“I suppose we could arrange a small takeout menu,” she said thoughtfully. “Pizzas and pastas, maybe. But I’d have to look into carry-away containers first.”

“You have doggie-bag containers, don’t you? Use those in the meantime.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Well, I’m going to call and place an order.”

“The staff won’t accept telephonic orders.”

“They will if you call,” he said with a sly grin. “It’s a good way to do a test run. Call in, order, and pick up. See how it goes.”

She lifted her thumb to her mouth and gnawed at the nail. Harris watched her ruminate over his suggestion, obviously wondering if looking into the idea could be considered breaking her self-imposed rule of not accepting his help or advice.

“Fine,” she finally decided, reaching for her phone. “What are you in the mood for? And don’t expect me to pick it up. I’m off duty. If I go into the restaurant, it’ll be like work. I’ll do my boss thing and fuss. Not that they need me. They’re perfectly fine without me.”

He wondered if she knew how wistful she sounded.

“You’re the boss—none of them would have work without you,” he pointed out gently.

“Yeah, well . . . for what that’s worth.” Something in the way she said it made him pause. But he didn’t comment, wanting to ponder over it for a while longer.