I roll my eyes and sigh. “Goodnight, Saint. Thank you for the soup. Drive safely.” Without waiting for his response, I close the door and slowly turn the lock until it clicks. “Satisfied?” I call through the door.
“For now,” he rumbles. “Goodnight, Mikey. Sweet dreams.”
I press my ear against the door, waiting for him to walk away. Maybe he’s standing there to make sure I keep the door locked, or maybe he feels the magnetic pull between us, too. After a minute, I hear his footsteps retreat down the hall.
Shoulders slumping, I pull my phone from my pocket and find a barrage of texts from Kelly.
KELLY: PLEASE tell me you and Saint spent longer than five minutes together.
KELLY: You didn’t do a very good job describing how HOT he is, damn. If only I were twenty years younger…
KELLY: I’m going to take your silence as a good sign and pray it’s not because you got murdered. Call me when you can!
I click on her name,and she answers immediately. “At least I know you’re not dead. Now, tell me what happened.”
I tell her about our impromptu dinner. It’s not a fantastic, enthralling story, but Kelly eats it up like it’s the latest TV drama. When I tell her he was concerned about my lack of a lock, she sides with him and swoons.
“And did you ask for his number? Or did he ask for yours?” she asks.
“No.”
“Comeon! Why?! It’s clear you’re attracted to him. More than attracted. You invited him to your apartment.”
“To eatsoup.Not exactly the best aphrodisiac.”
“The way he was looking at you, I think you could eat an entire plate of Texas barbecue and have sauce smeared all across your face, and he’d still want to jump your bones.”
“Kelly.”
“I’m just saying! That man lit up when he saw you across the bar. His eyes never left you when you were talking. I know a down-bad man when I see one, Mikey, and Saint wants you.”
“Then why hasn’t he asked me out or for my number?”
“Maybe he’s shy. Or nervous.”
I snort. A man of his size, of his attractiveness, has no reason to beshy.“Doubtful. I think he’s just nice.”
“Whatever you say, kiddo. Go watch your movie, my assistant just handed me test results, and I’ve got to go break the news to my patient that her mystery pain is labor.”
“She didn’t know she was pregnant?”
“Nope.”
“Ah. Well, that’s scary as shit. Have fun.”
“Always wrap it before you tap it. Love you big, Mikey.”
“Love you, too.”
I spend the rest of the night watching my dad’s favorite movie, but my mind isn’t focused on the screen. It’s running away with a thousand thoughts about hazel eyes.
When I finally go to sleep, I dream of a bearded man who smells like cinnamon and vanilla breaking down my door and ravishing me.
7
February
Ishould have left my number for Mikey or asked for hers before I left her tiny apartment. All I could think about when I was there was she needs a place with a garage. A place with a room big enough to hold all the books her heart desires, instead of needing to stack them on the floor because the only book shelf she has was full.
