“Can I help you?” he says, cocking one eyebrow at me. He looks faintly amused, like maybe he’s noticed me checking him out. Whatever. I will not be ashamed. “Yes,” I say. I hurry over, my sock-clad feet slipping across the wood floor, and sit on the couch next to where he’s lying. “Make yourself comfortable,” he mutters, scooting further into the couch so that I have more room. “I will, thank you,” I say primly.
