she placed the letters and raised her arms in victory. “I win!”
Dev gave her an indulgent look. “Not bad.”
She lowered her arms and snatched up a cold fry from the remnants of their dinner. “You knew I’d be here all night looking for a word, didn’t you?”
“Very much so. I couldn’t take sitting on the floor any longer. I’m too old to not have back support.”
She grabbed her phone and pulled up her texts with the Liar Formerly Known as Dev and handed it to him. “Fair’s fair.”
He took the phone automatically, but didn’t look at it. “But you won.”
“We both know I didn’t.” She fiddled with a thread coming loose on her hem.
He gave her a long look, then stared at the phone. After a pregnant pause, he offered it back to her. “I changed my mind. I’d rather learn about you like this, in person. Delete those texts, keep them for yourself, I don’t care.”
Her lips parted, and she accepted his offering. How did he have this uncanny knack to always know what to say? She stuffed another fry into her mouth, so she could have something to do.
He came to his feet and stretched.
She nearly choked on the fry, almost reliving the unfortunate roti choking of days past. She’d changed into the sweats, and she’d cinched the hoodie he’d brought her around her face. That meant she probably looked about as attractive as a child in footie pajamas.
Dev, though, still looked annoyingly good. He’d bought the same gray sweatpants for himself that he’d bought for her, and they looked different on him. When he stretched his arms up, his shirt rode up to display a one-inch slice of belly.
Jia swallowed the fry. “Is it warm in here?”
He lowered his arms. “I’m fine. I can open a window.”
“No, never mind.” Because then she’d be cold when she got into bed alone. Speaking of . . . “We should sleep. Our car’ll be ready to go early in the morning.”
“Right.” Neither of them moved.
“Do you want to use the . . . ?” She gestured to the bathroom.
“Sure.”
While he was gone, she pulled out the sofa bed and made it up. He stopped when he came out. “You didn’t have to do that.”
She fluffed the pillow and placed it on the bed. “I didn’t know how many beds you’ve made in your life, Mr. Actor,” she tried to tease, but she was mildly out of breath, because he’d turned slightly, and the curve of his butt was . . . noice.
Sexual attraction wasn’t something she felt a lot of—she’d determined long ago that she needed to have a strong bond to someone first before she got all torn up about wanting to sleep with them, and her schedule hadn’t lent itself to strong emotional bonds. So she figured she must be getting really bonded to Dev, because those gray sweatpants were getting sexier by the second.
It was the Scrabble, damn it.
Jia averted her eyes. She needed to stop thinking about his sweatpants because then she’d think about his shirt and then she’d think about his arms and then she’d think about the torso those arms were attached to and then his stomach and then back to his legs . . .
Jianna, control yourself.
His smile was faint. “I’ve made a bed or two.”
Oh gosh, why did the word bed sound so sexy? She took a giant step away from the sofa. “Thought I’d help you out.”
“I appreciate it.” He walked closer. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, of course.”
“You seem nervous.”
“Me? Thhppt.” She fiddled with the cord of her sweatshirt. She had so many cute pj’s at home. Even her unicorn onesie was better than this.
“I wanted to thank you for how good-natured you’ve been about this. I feel bad about getting us stranded here.”
Her forehead wrinkled. “Um, I’m the reason we got into this mess, ’cause I wanted to take some silly pictures.”
“Silly pictures? They were for your work.”
Gratitude rose up in her throat. So few understood that there was a serious, disciplined side to what she did. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For, like, taking me seriously. Taking photos of me without getting impatient or thinking I’m vain. I don’t know. Stuff like that.” She was so used to having to prove herself. She hadn’t had to do anything to earn this man’s respect. He freely gave it to her. How weird.
“Do people not do that?”
“Some people don’t, no.”
“Well, perhaps it’s because they haven’t tried to do what you do. I couldn’t do it.