Page 38 of A Ballad of Betrayal and Beauty

He shucks off his leather jacket and . . . okay, this just got a whole lot harder. The arms on this man? Black and grey tattoos cover his skin—bats and devils and all manner of hellish beasts. The juxtaposition of his skin and personality is unbelievable. Heat spreads between my legs, and I press my thighs together while remembering to close my mouth. He examines the window for a few seconds. “Doesn’t seem too bad. Looks like a screw came loose. You got a screwdriver around here?”

“Uh . . . no,” I admit. “Not exactly very handy.”

He turns to me and smiles. “No problem. I think I have an idea.”

He walks past me into my kitchen and I watch as he so confidently opens the cutlery drawer and pulls out a butterknife. He looks so good in my space, as if he’s lived here the whole time. “So, you like movies?”

I watch him, amused, as he slides back past me in his socks. “Correction. I love movies.”

“What’s your top favorite movie?” he asks, kneeling on my bed now, twisting the butterknife in his capable hands.

“To Catch a Thief.”

He inspects his work and hums. “Never seen that one.”

“Really? You’re missing out.”

“I’ll have to check it out.” He’s standing in front of me now, placing the butterknife in my palm. “All fixed.”

I peek past him at the repaired screen where Stella has already taken up her loafing position in the sun. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

He gently shakes his head. “Nah. I’m happy to help.”

I take a deep breath as we stare at each other, not five feet from my bed. I sneak a glance at my wrinkled sheets, the fantasy of the two of us tangled up in them too much to fight against. Our eyes meet and I realize that he was looking at them too.

“I should go?—”

“So about that date?—”

His eyes widen as we both stop talking at the same time. Why is my heart beating so fast?

“Wait . . .” he says. “What did you say?”

I tuck some hair behind my ear and stand up straight. “That date you asked me on. What if I said yes?”

His brilliant white teeth shine from his wide smile. “Really?”

“Yes. I’ll give this a shot.”

My heart flutters as his eyes crinkle with joy. “You will?”

“I can’t possibly say no now,” I say with a smirk. “You saved my cat.”

Joel chuckles. “Oh, I get it. It’s a pity date. It’s okay, it’s okay,” he says when I try to correct him. “I’ll take it. And no, Stella and I were definitelynotin cahoots to get you to agree.”

I laugh. “What can I say? She’s a great wingwoman.”

There’s a pause, then we slowly make our way back toward my door. “So, how about Wednesday, then?” he asks.

I pretend to mull it over. “Wednesday could work. It’ll give Stella time to do her nails . . . have a bath. You know, make herself look pretty.”

“It’s a date then,” Joel asserts.

He heads for the door, and I follow behind him, feeling lightheaded and warm.

“So I’ll see you here on Wednesday,” he confirms.

I nod. “Yes. You will. Wednesday.”

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