“I thought you didn’t like romantic comedies?”
“I don’t, and that movie is one of the main reasons.”
“Okay, so if it’s not one of those . . . what is it?” I laugh. “Can’t possibly be The Sound of Music.”
“Why do you assume that?” he asks, looking entirely too serious.
No.
That can’t be it.
The Sound of Music? No freaking way.
“Uh, because it’s a musical and, excuse me if I’m wrong, I don’t really see you as a toe-tapping, musical kind of man.”
“You know, you really shouldn’t judge people based on the little knowledge you have of them.” He adjusts the cuffs on his sleeves and says, “For your information, The Sound of Music is my favorite movie. It has everything you need, a hot nanny ex-nun who can sing, a grumpy, Nazi-fighting hero, beautifully composed music, betrayal, and suspense.”
I’m stunned.
In disbelief.
Sure, it’s an okay movie, but a favorite?
“Why don’t I believe you?”
He shrugs. “That’s on you if you choose to believe me or not.”
“If I had my phone, I would text Huxley right now and see if that’s the truth.”
“When you get your phone, have at it. He knows I love watching Maria twirl around on a mountaintop. One year, for Halloween, I dressed up as Maria, and another year, I was Baron Von Trapp. And then Maria again, because the costume was too good to only wear once.”
“I still . . . I don’t believe you.”
“Suit yourself. But I’ll tell you this, I own the cassette tape, the CD, the VHS, the DVR, the Blu Ray, and a digital copy of The Sound of Music. Not to mention, I have a treasured signed autograph picture from Julie Andrews. I keep them all in a fireproof safe in my house in an undisclosed location.”
“Okay, now I know you’re lying.”
He just shrugs, which is such an infuriating response. It’s like he doesn’t even care enough to come up with something proper, just offers a know-it-all shrug.
And, no, I don’t believe him, not for one second. There’s no way after the prolific criticism he had about Sleepless in Seattle that he can sit back and say The Sound of Music—a love story in its own right—is his favorite movie. Nope, he’s just trying to provoke me and I’m not going to fall for it.
Nice try.
“Doe, a deer, a female deer—”
“Will you knock that off?” I ask as our food finally arrives. “God, just eat your food and be quiet so we can get the hell out of here.”
“Aren’t you a pleasant dinner companion?”
“You’ve been nonstop singing, humming, beat-bopping songs since you brought up The Sound of Music and I’m about to lose my mind. I’m going to have ‘How do you solve a problem like Maria?’ stuck in my head for eternity.”
“Could be worse.”
“How could it be worse?” I ask.
“Could be a completely inappropriate song. Something along the lines of . . .” He leans forward and in a seductive voice, says, “My neck, my back, lick—”
“Okay, I got your point,” I say, holding my hand up.
“Have you heard that one?”
“Everyone has heard that one,” I say while sticking a forkful of meatloaf into my mouth. The most delicious meatloaf I’ve ever had. So good that I would actually consider coming on another date with JP just to have this meatloaf . . . Yeah, suffer through another night of this, that’s how good it is.
“Have you ever entertained such an adventure as that song suggests?”
My cheeks heat up immediately as I stare at the swirl of garlic in my mashed potatoes. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
“It’s not, but we have to kill the time somehow, so I’m going to assume from your bothered answer, that would be a no.”
“As if you’ve done something like that.”
He delivers that rakish brow once more. He doesn’t have to say anything, that one expression says it all. He has licked from well, you know . . .
“I’ve done pretty much everything, Kelsey, and I’ve delivered . . . every single time.”
“Uh-huh, I’m sure,” I say sarcastically.
Ignoring me, he continues, “I always make sure my girl comes, even if I don’t.”
“That’s great.” I offer him a closed-mouth smile.
“I’ve even faked it a time or two, just to get the hell out of there, you know?”