It’s Like That Read Online Free Page A

open his truck door for her, ridiculously happy it sat a little high, and afforded him a quick glimpse of her inner thigh, almost all the way to heaven. He’d never been so hungry for a woman before, never had the ache so persistent and intense at the same time. Settling into the driver’s seat and fastening his seat belt, he glanced over as he started the ignition. “Hope you like Greek.”
    “Never had it.” She fidgeted with her purse strings again.
    “Never had it?” he asked in mock horror. “Well, we’ll just have to remedy that.” He pulled out of her driveway and looked over at her. “Decide what movie you want to see?”
    “Um, no. Whatever is playing is fine. As long as it’s not about demons. I don’t like movies about demons.” She gave another one of those barely perceptible shudders. “Too scary.”
    “Okay,” he replied. “Whatever you pick is okay with me.” He glanced over at her, grinning. “As long as it’s not about princesses. I don’t like movies about princesses. Too scary.”
    She laughed, and his chest squeezed again. He added that to the list along with blush and smile.

Chapter 4
    Callie decided shortly after arriving at the restaurant that she loved Greek food. She let Chris order for her, since she couldn’t pronounce anything on the menu, and nearly melted when she tried the fried feta cheese he ordered as an appetizer. It was almost painful to consider calories and fat content, so she decided to use the rule every chubby person loves: if the person you’re dining with eats more than you, it doesn’t count.
    When the last crumb of the appetizer was gone, they both sipped their wine slowly, and Chris said, “Well, ask away. What do you want to know about me?”
    She considered for a moment and then said, “Tell me about your family, where you grew up.”
    He gave her the crooked smile, and she squeezed her thighs together against the ache it caused there.
    “That’s not a question, but I grew up in middle Georgia. My mom taught second grade and retired last year. My dad served in the navy and worked on airplanes on the base when he got out. I have an older sister, who is forever hounding me to get married, and a younger brother that is a complete dog. Countless cousins, aunts, uncles, and what we call shirttail cousins.”
    “Shirttail cousins?” She cocked her head to the side. “What the heck is that?”
    He laughed. “A shirttail cousin is someone you’re not related to, but you’re close enough to them to be related. Or someone that is so distantly related that you can’t remember exactly what the relation is.”
    “Ah.” She sipped her wine again. She had a few of those, but she’d never heard them called that. “So, where’s your accent? You don’t even have a hint of a twang.”
    He chuckled again and swirled his wine. “Yeah, well…like I said, my mom was a teacher. Every ain’t and y’all that escaped our mouths was promptly shot down. Every time we turned the O sound into an Aw , we had our mouths washed out with soap.” He made a disgusted face. “Dial soap, no less. The worst tasting of them all.”
    She laughed at the mental image of a tiny, barefoot Chris twanging away while his mother sputtered and chased him with soap. “I can’t say that I blame her. Some of the smartest people I’ve met are from the south, but the stereotypes are so strong that the accent automatically brings to mind complete ignorance.” She smiled wryly at him. “Just like the southern California accent makes you think of stoners and surfers, and a New York accent makes you think of mobsters.” She shrugged and sipped her wine. “I’m not saying it’s right or fair, that’s just how it is.”
    “Believe me, I know.” He chuckled softly. “What about you? Every question you ask me, you have to answer too.”
    She bit her lip thoughtfully. “Okay, that seems fair. I’m from Chicago…well,” she amended, “from a suburb of Chicago. Only child. My