“To shut you up. You wouldn’t stop talking.”
“Oh.”
I probably should have been angry but I wasn’t. He was a good kisser and if I had to be shut up, that was a damn fine way to do it.
“I don’t mind about the house, it looks nice,” he told me.
“Okay.”
“And I don’t mind your parents. They’re interesting and they care about you.”
“Okay.”
“And we’l talk about your apartment later.” I blinked. “What?”
He shifted me to the side and moved into the bathroom.
“Are you done in the bathroom? I need to shower.” He bent over and pul ed off a boot, then twisted to throw it in the bedroom.
I watched it go, moving my body as the boot sailed by me. When I turned back, he did the same with the other boot.
“What about my apartment?” I asked.
“We’l talk about it later,” he replied.
He started to pul off his sweater but I grabbed his arms and stopped him.
He looked at me.
I felt something strange and unpleasant crawl along my skin.
“Don’t you want me to move to Denver?” I asked quietly.
“Yeah, I want you to move to Denver.”
I blinked at him again, confused. “Then, what about my apartment?” I repeated my question.
“Roxanne, we’l talk about it later.”
Then, it hit me. “As in, we’l have a ‘conversation’?” I asked, thinking about what Jet said earlier about Eddie’s chats and the fact that she’d moved in with him, making them the fastest relationship in history.
Hank stared at me as if he was considering checking my forehead to see if I had a fever.
“Yes,” he said slowly. “Two people talking is the same as two people having a conversation.”
“Do you mean, a Hank Conversation? The kind with a capital ‘H’ and a capital ‘C’?”
His brows drew together. “Have you been drinking?” he asked.
“No, I haven’t been drinking!”
He sighed and straightened, giving me his ful attention.
“Maybe you should tel me what’s on your mind.” I didn’t actual y have anything on my mind other than what was on his.
“Nothing’s on my mind,” I admitted. “Except, when we have this conversation, we aren’t having it in bed.” After I made my declaration, he watched me for a beat then shook his head. “Jesus, you’re a nut,” he muttered, pul ing off his sweater.
“I’m not a nut!”