She smiled. “Hardly. I’m not an expert lockpicker. My skills are amateurish at best. I like to know a little about everything. I got it from my dad. There was nothing he couldn’t do—paint walls, build furniture, fix appliances, dabble in electronics… He did it all. I still have boxes full of his inventions in a storage unit. I have no idea what they are, but don’t have the heart to throw them away.”
Something in my chest tightened. She talked about him with love and reverence. She cherished his memory. I wished I could talk like that about my parents, but it hurt too goddamn much. So I didn’t talk about them. I kept them to myself, and when they faded too much from my memory, I looked at old pictures and questioned everything about the universe.
“I knew your dad,” I said softly. “I liked him a lot. He fixed quite a few things for me. We played chess together now and again.”
She glanced up, surprised. “Yeah, he loved chess. I never managed to beat him.”
“Neither did I,” I admitted. “He was also a great painter. You got that from him, too.”
I knew it because I had three of her paintings. I’d picked one up at an art exhibit, and had some friends order the others from her website, so my name didn’t show up on the order form. I didn’t know why I’d made it such a secret.
Jesse smiled fondly. “He was amazing, yes. He loved landscapes. Unlike me, he never mastered portraits. I’m more into faces—charcoal sketches are my favorites. The love for arts and crafts runs in our family.”
The lock pins gave a click, and she managed to twist the tension wrench.
She pushed the door open triumphantly. “Eureka!”
I was beyond impressed. Maybe some men would feel emasculated by this kind of woman, but I was in awe of her.
“Way to go, Jenni!” I jumped to my feet and reached down to give her a hand up.
She took it, laughing. “You still need a new lock. Tomorrow, you’ll have to go down into Mr. Gore’s dungeon. Tonight, you can use the safety chain and put something heavy in front of your door. Don’t try to lock it.”
I nodded, still kind of stunned. There was something undeniably sexy about a woman in flip-flops and a bridesmaid dress wielding a lockpick kit. Most of the women I met didn’t know which end of a screwdriver to hold. Jesse handled tools the way I handled a keyboard.
I kept her hand in mine. “What if a thief comes by? Candi’s not here to protect me. Would you stay and be my bodyguard?”
I made a puppy dog face that had gotten many women out of their underwear. I wasn’t sure, but in the low light I thought her cheeks had turned rosier.
She slipped her fingers out of my light grasp. “You’ll be fine.”
“Thanks, Jesse.” My smile relaxed. “I owe you. I’m actually glad this happened. I learned something new about you.”
“No problem.” She bent down and gathered her tools.
I pushed the door open and turned on the light before I realized one of her paintings was right in the hallway. I saw the moment she noticed it. Her face softened, her lips parted slightly in wonder. The painting was a rainy autumn scene in a park, with two indistinct lovers dancing in the rain. It was done in beautiful shades of yellow, orange, auburn, and blue.
Part of me was embarrassed that she’d seen it. Another part hoped she was impressed that I’d chosen it for the entrance into my home.
“Nice piece.” She stood in the doorway, gazing at the painting.
“I know. My favorite.” I stood close to her, just inside the apartment.
“Where did you get it?”
“From your online store, a couple of years ago.” I studied my shoes. “It was right after we met, unofficially. I knew that your first impression of me was... unfavorable. I never got the chance to explain what happened that night.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “I don’t need any explanation. Your private life is your own.”
“Yeah. I just want you to know that I’m not a bad guy, Jesse. Not a pervert—well, not more perverted than the average Joe.” I gave her a lopsided grin, putting my dimples to work.
She didn’t appreciate the joke. “Sebastian, you don’t have to justify anything to me. Whatever goes on in your bedroom is your business. That night I was staying over because my dad wasn’t feeling well. I only came to your door because I was afraid the music coming from your apartment would wake him. I didn’t expect to find the door open and...”
“Me lying in bed, naked?”
“Yeah, that.” She hastily picked up her toolbox. “Anyway, goodnight. Make sure you don’t lock your door and call Mr. Gore first thing tomorrow to replace your lock.”
She hurried to the stairs.
