I haven’t stopped smiling since we met, and I’m choosing to believe that’s a good sign.
He grins. “I don’t believe you.”
We pull into a nearly empty parking lot lit by soft amber lamps. Ahead of us, the glass facade of the conservatory glows like a lantern in the night.
“What is this? It’s beautiful.”
“Como Park Zoo and Conservatory,” he says.
I turn toward him. “They’re not closed at night?”
“Usually, but not tonight,” he says, triumphantly producing two tickets from his jacket pocket.
“A light show,” I whisper, taking a ticket.
Our fingers brush. That small contact sends a current up my arm, and I shiver. He notices, and his smile softens.
“Ready?” he asks.
I nod, because I am always ready for whatever he suggests, which is also very much not like me. I point at his tote.
“Whatcha carrying?”
“A surprise.” He grins.
“Goodness. So full of secrets tonight.”
“I like to keep you guessing.”
I press my lips together, feeling the mad urge to laugh. He makes me giddy.
Inside, the air is warm and humid, fragrant with damp earth and citrus blossoms. The conservatory is dim except for hundreds of tiny lights woven through branches and vines, glowing like captured stars.
“This is magical.” I turn, taking it all in.
“I thought you might like it.” His eyes crinkle at the sides. I love the way his whole face smiles.
“You brought me to a glowing indoor jungle at night,” I say. “You might be perfect.”
He bumps his shoulder against mine. “So glad you stuckaround long enough to figure that out. Just don’t spread that news around. I have a reputation to uphold.”
I grin. From the way the girls notice Tully everywhere we go, I don’t think I have to say anything about him for people to see how perfect he is. He’s not only hot and funny, he’s good without being boring. Kind without being a doormat. Suggestive without being obnoxious.
And I’ve never felt the way I do when he kisses me. Even when he holds my hand, I get butterflies. I don’t do butterflies, okay? At least not until Tully. I didn’t think my body was capable of falling under any man’s spell, but Tully is different.
Everything I’ve learned about him so far only points to the fact that he is exceptional.
We wander through paths lined with orchids and towering palms. Colored lights shift slowly from lavender to gold to deep ocean blue. Somewhere, water trickles over stone. Tully pauses beside a cluster of luminous glass sculptures shaped like oversized flowers.
“Pick which one feels like you,” he says.
I study them. One is sharp and flame-like. Another curls inward like secrets. I point to one shaped like a bell, glowing brightly from within.
“That one.”
He nods thoughtfully. “Warm. With the best curves.” He grins. “Gentle. But if you look closely, it’s stronger than it seems.”
“You got all that from a glass flower?”
