Tough Enough (Tall, Dark, and Dangerous #2)(61)

My pulse stutters, but I do my best to ignore it and act natural. “But not too busy to find out what kind of facial hair I prefer on a man?”

“Hey, that’s a legit question. Sometimes I get the urge to grow a goatee. I needed to know where you stand on the matter.”

“Why? It’s not like you were going to be around very long.”

A shadow passes over his face, a mirror of the one that has hovered over my heart all week. More inevitability.

Too many things are inevitable, it seems. Love, loss. Ecstasy, heartbreak. To have, to have not.

“Don’t say things like that. It’s like you’re not even giving us a chance.”

I’m surprised by the snap in his voice.

“It’s not that. It’s just . . .” I trail off, looking down to study my fingernails as I ponder which way to go with this conversation. We both know what’s happening, but maybe we don’t need to discuss it. Maybe we can just pretend. For a little while longer. I quickly decide not to mar what beauty might be left in our last hours and days together. I do my best to recover outwardly. I lean my head back against the plush leather seat back and turn on a bright smile for Rogan. “I’ll give us every possible chance.”

His face relaxes into its normal happy fa?ade. “Good. I didn’t want to have to kidnap you. Now, where was I?” Rogan brings his lips back to my fingers, kissing each fingertip before softly reminding, “Favorite movie?”

God, I wish I could stay in this bubble with him forever, with things exactly as they are right now. Just me in a confined space with Rogan and his wonderful smile, his tender touch.

“Judge Dredd,” I say, deadpan.

Rogan’s reaction is comical. His head jerks up and his face scrunches. “What?”

“Yep. Cinematic genius, that one.”

His mouth hangs open limply as he stares at me like I’ve sprouted horns. “I’ll drop you off in Philly as we pass. I hope you’re good with a parachute.”

I laugh outright. I’ve never even seen Judge Dredd, but now I’m pretty sure I never will. “Fine. How about Gremlins?”

“Philly.”

“Pretty in Pink?”

“Philly.”

“Blade Runner?”

“Good God, when were you born?”

“All right, all right,” I say dropping my gaze. “I guess The Man Without a Face would be my all-time favorite.” When Rogan says nothing for several seconds, I sneak a peek up at him. He’s watching me with a sad smile.

“What’s your second favorite movie?”

I don’t hesitate. “Phenomenon.”

Rogan drops his forehead onto my hand where he still holds it inside his. “You’re killing me! Don’t you like any movies that won’t make me want to flush my head down the airplane toilet?”

I giggle. “You should’ve specified and asked what my favorite movie that you might like would be. Because in that case, I’d probably say World War Z. Rocky. Iron Man. Shall I go on?”

Rogan smiles broadly. “Now we’re getting somewhere.” He releases my hand to reach for a bag that rests on one of the two deep swivel chairs that face us. The plane is laid out with four captain’s chairs facing a central table and, toward the back, two small sofas on either side of the aisle. Kurt is behind us, stretched out on one of those listening to music, with his wheelchair parked beside him.

Unzipping the bag, Rogan produces nearly every movie I mentioned, except for Pretty in Pink. I wouldn’t expect a guy to have that one, but the fact that he has this many tells me there’s a spy involved. Even though I was joking about them being my absolute favorites, they are the movies that come to mind most often. Well, except for Dredd.

“You cheated,” I tell him, not the least bit angry, but rather touched instead.

“Blame Mona. That girl’s tongue is loose at both ends.”

“This was her idea?”

“No, this was my idea. She loved it, though. At least I guess she did. She acted like she was about to cry when I explained to her why I wanted to know.”

“Yep. That sounds about right.”

“So, what’ll it be?”

I notice that the bag isn’t empty. “What else do you have in there?” I ask, now curious as to what he brought that had nothing to do with me and my loud-mouthed friend.

I reach for the bag and Rogan’s hand flinches, almost as though he was going to prevent me from looking inside, but then changed his mind.

I flip through several war movies. I don’t even have to ask about those. They have Kurt written all over them. It’s the one that rests on the bottom of the pile that intrigues me.

“Who’s this for?” I ask, removing the DVD of Beastly and holding it up for him to see.

Rogan actually looks sheepish, an expression I’ve never seen him wear, which only further piques my curiosity. He clears his throat before he answers. “I, uh, I saw that one night on cable a few weeks back and thought it was a pretty decent romance. I mean, a guy needs to keep on top of shit like this, too, right?” His little grin tells me that he doesn’t expect an answer. “But then when I got to know you . . . especially when you showed me all of you, I went and bought it. I’ve watched it more times than I care to count.”