Page 39 of Haunt the Mall
“She is pretty magnificent,” I said. “And great marketing. Did every theater get one?”
“No, I knew somebody who could make it for a reasonable fee. I had to make certain promises to get her in, though,” he murmured, that sexy voice of his rumbling low.
This man loved being ominous, so naturally, I had to play with him.
“Blood sacrifice?” I suggested.
He lifted his head and gave me a wry look. “Not quite.”
“No feeding her after midnight?”
“She’s not a Gremlin,” he chided.
“Did you have to seduce people into memberships? Or was that more for fun?” I challenged, leaning closer.
“Kat,” he warned, but his smile told me he enjoyed it.
“What, then?” I raised my brows.
He swept his bangs aside and slunk his gaze away. “I…have to hit certain sales.”
“Oh.” Kinda mundane, like my own job, when I got down to it.
He nudged my knee. “That means I also had to ‘sacrifice’ other movies to show The Widow more often.”
“Ooh, diabolical. You really made a deal with the devil. How will people get their cultural enrichment without the option to see Real Fast Racers 7 at 3:15?” I teased.
He smirked and squeezed my thigh. “She’s worth it.”
“She is, indeed.” Oh great. One date and he had me speaking semi-formally. His hand was incredibly distracting. The only way to stop the swelling urge to pry open his mind and dig inside would be to move my leg out of his reach or still his hand with mine—and wasn’t it a bit early for hand-holding? Considering what we’d just done, he’d probably find it weird if I pulled away. Each time he played with my tights, he tugged my stupid heartstrings. Maybe it was my hormones talking. How else could he so easily puppet my feelings?
I glanced at the dividing wall by the entrance, similar to the one in the other theater where he’d pranked the audience with a stuffed spider. “You have a smaller spider too. Did you have to do anything for her?”
“Not really.” He walked his fingers between the crisscrosses in my tights to hopscotch on bare skin.
Why didn’t he answer questions with direct answers? Was he that determined to maintain an air of mystery? Or did he love them more than anything…including actually connecting with another human being?
I lowered my gaze. We connected physically, but maybe he didn’t want to talk much, let alone get to know me.
He’d met my sister, but the conversation had been pretty surface-level. He hadn’t asked me anything about myself tonight except if it was okay to hook up and what I liked to eat. Maybe he wanted to keep things light. Or in the dark, as it were.
It wasn’t like I’d pushed to know him either. I’d almost hooked up with him before I even knew his name, for fuck’s sake.
The idea of suppressing my desire to know him twisted my insides with the ruthlessness of a screwdriver. He wasn’t rejecting me. Just drawing boundaries, maybe.
“Where is she? Bitsy.” I swallowed hard around the building panic in my throat.
He smiled and shook his head. “I’m not telling.”
I sat up straight. Wait, was this a game? “She’s here, isn’t she?”
He’d said at another of our meetings that he hid her around the theater. I twisted around, scanning the railing, then the seats.
“Just enjoy the movie,” he purred, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.
That was easy for him to say. There wasn’t a jump scare waiting for him around the corner. Would he involve his ‘minions’ in some nefarious deed? He smiled at the screen. I got the feeling he’d do any pranks himself. But when? And how? And if our date was good enough, would he give the spider plush to me?
The rest of the movie was amazing. It had blood, banter, and presumed boning—not to mention some quality sequel bait.