“June, you’re the whole damn galaxy on a cloudless night, a hundred miles out of the city.”
“That’s …” She pauses, leaving me hanging. “That’s actually really sweet.”
I grin, feeling most excellent because I have no clue what I’m doing, but I knowsweetis good—and something I’ve never been.
“But,” she says. “For the record, I didn’t. I texted.”
“But you didn’t have to. So let’s do this. What’s your last name, June?”
“Malone.”
“June Malone.” I like the way her name rolls off my tongue, almost as much as I like the way she grinned while biting her lip after I took the group picture.
“What’s your last name, Flynn?” There’s a hint of humor to her question.
Does she find me amusing in an irresistible way? I hope so.
“Morley.”
“Age?”
She likes me.
“Twenty-five. You?”
“Twenty-six.”
“Aw man … I’ve always had a thing for older women.”
She giggles as I collapse onto the sofa and stare at the water-stained ceiling. “So were you at the gallery with your girlfriend?”
“Huh?”
“You said you have a thing for older women. And you said you don’t have parents. So who was the woman at the gallery with you?”
“Who said the woman at the gallery was with me? Maybe we were just there at the same time.”
“Oh? In that case, what did you buy at the gallery?”
“Nothing. I was there with that woman.”
June’s laughter makes me feel warm everywhere, like a third beer filling my veins.
“She’s my boss. Or my boss’s wife. I’m not sure who’s in charge. It’s a new job.”
“What’s the job?”
“I’m a muse.”
“A what?”
“A muse. It’s?—”
“I know what a muse is. But I didn’t know it’s a job.”
Fantastic. June is not only pretty; she’s smart, too.
“Rich people,” I grumble. “They can’t do anything themselves. I don’t know if she’s depressed or suicidal or what, but I’m supposed to inspire her to live. That should be her husband’s job. A friend’s. A sibling’s. Literally anyone but some strange guy who she’s never met.”
