Which was how I ended up standing outside 16D, holding a bouquet of white tulips like some mid-century idiot “calling on” a woman. Not exactly my usual M.O. I’m more of a “send the assistant, schedule the meeting” kind of guy. But this? This felt like something that couldn’t go through an assistant.
Finding her condo number had taken all of twenty minutes—public records, old alumni pages, a few clicks… I build systems that can track global behavior patterns. Of course I could find one woman in Pleasure Valley. In the process, I learned shewas from Boise, moved here for college, and—apparently—never bothered locking down her digital footprint.
The irony wasn’t lost on me.
I pressed the doorbell and waited. I half-expected a voice through the speaker. Maybe a suspicious “Can I help you?” Instead, I heard a click, then there she was.
Danika. Hair pulled back, same Santa T-shirt and sweatpants she’d been wearing in the lobby that morning—plus lipstick, which I noticed immediately because apparently I’d lost all sense of professionalism.
“Hi,” she said, eyes flicking to the flowers, then back to me. “How on earth…?”
“Internet search,” I said, managing a small, hopefully non-creepy smile. “Your address is findable. You might want to fix that.” I hesitated, then added, “May I come in?”
She stepped aside, and I crossed the threshold into her space—small, cozy, organized but lived-in. The kind of place that actually felt like someone existed there, not like my sterile penthouse that could double as a showroom.
“These are for you.” I held out the tulips, suddenly feeling like an idiot. Flowers. What was I, twelve?
“They’re beautiful.” She took them, burying her nose in the petals. “What’s the occasion?”
“It’s to thank you for all your help with the analytics.” The words came out too fast, too formal. “You’ve been incredible, and I wanted to?—”
Something flickered across her face. Disappointment? It was gone so quickly I almost missed it, but I’d spent part of my time with her studying her expressions like they were data points.
“—and also because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve seen in a while,” I added quickly. “Actually, scratch that. Ever. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
Her eyes widened. “You don’t have to say that.”
“I’m not saying it because I have to. I’m saying it because it’s true.” I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her. “I don’t lie about data, Danika. And that’s data.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “That’s not data. That’s an opinion.”
“Subjective observation backed by empirical evidence. My heart rate increases by an average of fifteen beats per minute when you walk into a room. That’s data.”
“You measured your heart rate?”
“I measure everything.” I grinned. “You should already know that about me.”
She laughed, shaking her head as she moved toward the kitchen. “Let me put these in water. And I was just about to order takeout if you want to stay? I’m thinking Thai, but I’m open to negotiation.”
“Thai works.” I followed her, watching as she filled a vase with water. “What are you in the mood for?”
“Pad see ew. Extra vegetables, medium spice.” She pulled out her phone, opening a delivery app. “You?”
“Panang curry. No vegetables.”
She looked up at me, horrified. “No vegetables? At all?”
“I’m not five. I eat vegetables. Just not in my curry.”
“That’s the best part of curry.”
“The best part of curry is the curry.” I leaned against the counter. “The vegetables are just taking up space that could be used for more protein.”
“You’re impossible.” But she was smiling as she added my order. “This is going to be a thing between us, isn’t it? The vegetable debate.”
“Between us.” I liked the sound of that. “So there’s an ‘us’?”
Her fingers paused over her phone. “I don’t know. Is there?”
