Page 176 of A Matter of Time

“That was very nice,” I told Kai.

“Well, thanks, but so you know, I am a crappy dancer. You’re gonna cry.”

“You think?”

“Oh yeah.” He chuckled. “My sister, Grace, wouldn’t let me dance at her wedding because she was so scared I’d freak people out.”

I laughed at him as he sighed deeply and touched the collar of my shirt. “You look really good. Maybe you can take a look at my wardrobe and give me some pointers.”

“You look fine to me,” I said, my eyes sliding over his long, lean frame. He looked good with his pocket T-shirt clinging tightly to the sinewy muscles in his arms, chest, and abdomen. His faded 501 jeans fit well and his beat-up hiking boots had seen better days—all of it gave the impression of a man who was both solid and strong. He wasn’t strikingly beautiful or the kind of guy you noticed instantly, he was the kind of guy who grew on you, because in the two hours that we had been talking in the kitchen, I had become a great admirer of his eyes, his shoulders, the veins in his hands, the way he smiled, and the soft, gentle tone of his voice. He radiated a sort of soothing quiet, like he was comfortable in his own skin.

“Yeah? I look okay?”

“You do.” I smiled at him. “What kind of music do you like?”

“Why?”

“There’s a jazz club by my apartment that’s really good if you maybe wanted to go listen to some instead of going dancing.”

“I’ll be honest, I haven’t had the opportunity to hear a lot of jazz, but I would much rather listen to music with you than show you how poorly my body moves.”

“I’m sure your body moves just fine.”

His voice bottomed out. “Why don’t we go now?”

He helped me clean Paul’s kitchen back up, and when we left together there were a lot of catcalls and comments, and Hunter’s final “Be careful, you two!” was probably the most obvious.

Out on the street, Kai pointed at an ancient Volkswagen van.

“Is that yours?”

“Yeah. I know, it’s⁠—”

“It’s awesome,” I breathed out, walking over to it, peering in the windows. “What is this, like, a sixty-five? Sixty-seven?”

He chuckled behind me, and I turned to look at him.

“Big aficionado of VW vans, are you?”

“I just love old stuff, period.”

He smiled at me. “You know, you are not at all what I expected.”

“How d’ya mean?”

“Jory, you must know… I mean, I go in the kitchen and there you are and you’re so…beautiful…and the smile and…and you just…you like my old, ugly van. It’s amazing.”

“Why?”

“You look like you’d be the kind of guy that needs a guy with money.”

I snorted out a laugh. “I have my own money, and what I don’t have my brother has. I’m good.”

He looked into my eyes. “Would you like to drive my piece of junk?”

“Really?”

He laughed out loud. “God, you sound so excited. Hell yes. Come get the keys.”