“Don’t tell me you want to jump.”
I tilt my head. “Oh, you want me to come down?”
“No, Kitten,” he exhaled, clearly running out of patience, “I want you to stay up there forever. Maybe start a rooftop garden while you’re at it.”
I tilt my head, crossing my arms. “Tempting. Do I at least get a ladder, or is this a permanent exile situation?”
He flicks the ash off his cigarette. “Oh, definitely permanent.”
I grin, leaning a little further over the edge just to annoy him. “Wow. And here I thought you were inviting me out on a date. My mistake.”
He drags a slow breath, then points toward the entrance. “Get down here before I come up there and carry you down myself.”
“Promises, promises,” I shout back.
“Kitten,” he says, flicking the cigarette to the ground and crushing it beneath his shoe. Then he pushes off the car and breaks into a run toward the entrance.
I hear his steps pounding against the floorboards inside, each one making a closer sound that comes through the house as he makes his way up to the balcony.
“Well,” I lift a brow, “that was quick.”
He runs a hand through his hair, already stepping toward me. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet,” I tilt my head, smiling sweetly, “here you are. Came all this way just to see me?”
I laugh under my breath as he reaches me, his hand closing firmly around my wrist.
“Congratulations,” he adds, already turning me toward the door, “you’ve lost your balcony privileges.”
“Wow,” I gasp dramatically, letting him pull me along, “You’re really escalating quickly.”
“Keep talking,” he says, not even looking back, “and I’ll add more to the list.”
“At this rate, I’ll be locked here forever.”
“Don’t tempt me, Kitten.”
His hands slide under my thighs, and he lifts me up in his hands. A soft squeak slips out of me, surprise breaking into a smile as I wrap my arms around his neck, holding on.
“What’s in town?” I ask.
“A surprise.”
I narrow my eyes, poking his shoulder. “Suspicious behavior.”
He carries me down the stairs, then out through the entrance toward his car. When he sets me back on my feet, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out two tickets.
I take them from his hand and lift them closer, squinting as I read.
“Golden State Summer Fair?” I say out loud.
He glances at the ticket, then back at me.
“Yeah,” he says dryly, “try to contain your excitement. I know it’s hard.”
I narrow my eyes on him. “You got me fair tickets?” Dragging the words through a wide, fake smile.
“No,” he deadpans, opening the car door, “I thought we’d stand outside and admire the parking lot.”
