I don’t want to get into my car covered in filth, and she seems okay with me now, so I nod. “I’d appreciate that.”
I follow her inside and up two flights of dark stairs. I immediately don’t like where she lives. From the description of the guys hanging out front late at night to the lack of lighting in the walk-up, it screams danger. But who am I to judge? Yet it bothers me. I wouldn’t let my sister live here.
By the time we walk into the small apartment, I’m frowning, but one look at the cheerful décor, and my mood lightens. This is a woman who makes the best of any situation, I realize, taking in the white curtains and the old furniture with bright pink throwpillows covering the cushions. A matching fun pink rug sits under a beat-up coffee table covered in well-read books.
“You like pink,” I muse, coming up beside her. “And candy.” She even smells sweet and delicious. “Are you fun, Faith?”
Her cheeks turn an adorable shade of… pink. “I can be, in the right situation.”
I wonder what thatright situationmight be, because I would definitely like to have fun with her. The kind between the sheets. Before my dick can react to that thought, I ask, “Where’s the bathroom?”
She leads me to a small partly open door and gestures for me to go inside. “There’s a tiny linen closet behind the door. Take a towel and get yourself cleaned up.”
She steps away and heads back to the main area of the apartment.
I glance over to where the small kitchen is visible through a pass-through. The candies are neatly stacked on the Formica countertops.
“So about those treats. Did I earn myself one?” I ask, joining her.
She blinks in surprise. “Why didn’t I think of that?” She rushes to the kitchen, returning with a pop and handing it to me.
I bite into it once, then twice, quickly swallowing the sweet, delicious candy. “Mmm. Damn, these are good. S’mores flavor?” I ask.
She nods, a grin on her face. “It’s like a taste of home,” she says softly.
Sensing this means something to her, I want to know more. “How so?”
She sighs. “My mom and I used to make candy all the time when I was growing up. She always wanted to open a store in our small town, but she didn’t have the ability. Things were… out of her control. And she needed to work to take care of me and mybrother. But this was her favorite recipe, and it reminds me of her.”
“What happened?” I ask. “If you want to talk about it.”
“She died recently.” Faith blinks and looks away.
Recognizing raw pain, I change the subject. “Well, your candy is delicious, and I hope you succeed,” I say, treating her to a warm smile, realizing our time together is coming to an end.
“I have a meeting I need to get to,” I say. But I’m not ready to leave.
“Oh, right.” She rushes over to the kitchen and returns with a basket in her hand. “Take this. As a thank you. You’re a Good Samaritan, Jason Dare.”
I accept her gift, our skin brushing as it exchanges hands. A shot of electricity jolts up my arm and goes straight to my cock. Something about this woman gets to me, from her gorgeous face and curvaceous body to her strength and the hint of occasional fragility beneath. I know with everything in me I ought to stay away. From the fact that her tire might have been slashed to the fact that she doesn’t radiate one-night-stand type of woman to me, I should say goodbye and walk out the door.
“Have dinner with me.” I blurt out the words before I can think them through.
She stares at me in surprise, those pretty lips pursing in thought, green eyes huge. “Umm… I really don’t think it’s a good idea. I have too much going on right now, and I don’t date and… well, we shouldn’t.” She sounds sad, as if she doesn’t want to say no.
I roll my shoulders, deciding it is for the best even if I don’t like being turned down by her. “I understand.”
She stares at me for a heartbeat. “Well, thanks again.”
I incline my head. “You can thank me by locking your door and being careful out there.” Her slashed tire stays with me, bothers me, even.
Sure, this is New York City and not the best neighborhood, so it really could have been done by someone who considers vandalism a good time. I’d probably go with that theory, too, if not for the slightly panicked reaction she tried to hide.
“Don’t worry. I’m a big girl, and I can take care of myself,” she says, striding toward the door. “But I’ll take your advice.”
I step out the door she opens for me. “Bye, sweetness,” I say. “It was nice meeting you, Faith Lancaster.”
She wrinkles her nose at the nickname.
