Free Can't Always Get What You Want by Chelsey Krause Page B

expected you to say, ‘ It will be mine. Oh yes, it will be mine .’ ”
    I laugh, and playfully throw my dish towel at him.
    “I haven’t seen that movie for years,” he says wistfully.
    “I own it.”
    “You do? Want to watch it?”
    “Sure. But only if you tell me about the pineapple juice.”
    Brett chuckles. “You can use pineapple juice in a marinade if the meat sits in it for twenty minutes or less.”
    “That’s it?”
    “That’s it.”
    “Huh. Go figure.”
    You learn something new every day.
    “Okay, since we’re sharing recipe secrets…” he says.
    Oh, I already know where he’s going with this.
    “…what was the secret ingredient in your apple pie?”
    Samira had advertised that there was a secret ingredient in the apple pie that she and her mom have been trying to get out of me for years.
    “Can’t tell you. Family recipe.”
    “Will you tell me someday?”
    I tilt my head downward and peek up at him, hoping for a coy expression.

    “Maybe.”
    “Okay, dishes are done. It’s Wayne’s World, Wayne’s World, party time, excellent…”
    “Wooo wooo woo woo woo!”
    We grin at each other like idiots.
    It’s not every day you find someone who can quote the same movies as you. And loves the same bands you do. And loves to barbecue like you do. And to freak out cashiers like you do.
    I am having so much fun. In all the drama that’s gone on today, I forgot to ask Samira about Brett and his “reputation” for being shy in social situations. Save for the moment in Safeway yesterday where I caught him looking serious and guarded, I have yet to see him act that way around me.
    I start searching for the DVD while Brett settles into the couch.
    “You don’t have to get up early tomorrow?” he asks.
    “Nah, I have a couple days off. What about you?” I find it, and put it into the player.
    “I’ve survived many late nights before, I’m sure I can do it again.”
    I turn around, and see that he’s seated himself in the middle of the couch. Either side I choose, I’ll end up sitting beside him.
    Choosing the right side (because that’s normally where I’d sit anyway), I plop myself down. I feel a sort of giddy tension in the air, like we’re teenagers watching a movie after Mom and Dad have gone to bed.
    The opening credits are dancing on the screen when I hear him say, “So, you think I have a hot ass, hmm?”

    The hazy memory comes rushing back to me. Did I really say that out loud? My body contracts into a fetal position, and I cover my face.
    “Yeah. Not my finest moment. Sorry about that.”
    I feel his shoulders quake with laughter. Ass.
    “I could tell you were half cut. Was nice to hear, though.”
    He takes a long draw on his beer. Well, at least now he knows how I feel about him. And his behind.
    “You seemed a bit out of it earlier tonight.”
    Do I tell him? No, too risky.
    “I just had a bad day at work, and wanted a glass of wine to unwind. Guess I got carried away. It just seemed worse because it was on an empty stomach.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “What? It’s the truth.”
    Well, kind of.
    “And just so you know, I’m embarrassed about it. I never, ever do that,” I say.
    “You want to talk about what upset you at work?”
    “With you ?” I sputter.
    Oh no, that sounded really, really bad. I look over and see him wince.
    “I didn’t mean it like that. I wouldn’t want to burden you. It was just a crap day, and that’s all there is to it. But I appreciate your asking,” I say gently.
    It seems to placate him, but I wonder if I’ve hurt his feelings.
    We watch the movie, and I feel an unexpected frisson of excitement run through me. I can’t even remember the last time I sat this close on a couch with anyone, let alone someone this handsome and charming.

    I take in his posture, and notice that the arm closest to me looks cramped. What would he do if I wrapped it around my shoulders? And snuggled in a little closer?
    Aaron’s resurrected memory has