Chapter Six

 

The next morning, as I attempted to eat a bland breakfast of oatmeal, my best friend Claire called to check up on me and chat about her vacation.

“I go away for one week and you have an emergency appendectomy?” Claire’s tone was disbelieving. We’d known each other since high school and grown even closer after Nico died. Claire was the one person in this world I truly believed cared about me.

I sighed and adjusted the phone against my ear. “I’m fine. I promise. I shouldn’t have even told you because now all you’ll do is worry.”

“You’d better not keep that kind of thing a secret from me.”

“Well, if you’re going to get upset . . . ”

“I’m concerned. It’s allowed.” She exhaled.

“I know. I know,” I said guiltily. I struggled with the worry that people’s concern was truly pity. I hated pity. But I needed to remember this was Claire, and she actually cared about me on a deeper level. “My hospital stay was a drag. Not because of the nurses or anything but because there were so many damn ghosts circling me.”

“Oh, dear. That’s not good.”

“No. I haven’t puked that much in years. There were so many of them, it was impossible to time my pain medication to keep them out of my head.” I shivered. “Some of the spirits pissed me off with their whining, but some of them were so tragic, it was hard not to feel depressed.” Memories of the little girl ghost made my chest ache. She’d been so young and needy, and there was absolutely nothing I could do to help her.

“Gosh, Lorenzo, I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I know how much you hate hospitals.”

“Yeah. Well, I’m home now.” I stirred the oatmeal, trying to force myself to take a bite. I grabbed the bottle of honey on the table and poured a big glob on top, hoping that might help the boring flavor.

“You said some doctor gave you a ride home?”

“Yes.” I tasted the oatmeal, grimacing. The honey wasn’t helping. It might even have made it worse because now it was cold and sticky.

“But you don’t know him?”

“Not really. We met once before my hospital trip.” I laughed. “He was with a client at my shop. He thought I was trying to swindle her.”

“Were you trying to swindle her?” She sounded amused.

I grimaced. “She got her money’s worth. There was no swindling.”

“I’m teasing, but I know business is slow this time of year.”

“Yes.” I glanced down at the bowl of plain oatmeal congealing before me. “I need to advertise or something, but it’s so expensive.”

“I could loan you some money,” she said brightly.

I winced. “No, thank you.”

“You’re too prideful. There’s nothing wrong with loaning a friend money.”

“I know. If I need money, I’ll ask. Okay?” As I spoke my eyes settled on the stack of unpaid bills on the kitchen table.

“No you won’t,” she grumbled. “We both know you won’t.”

“Come on, Claire,” I complained. “Can’t we have a nice conversation? I don’t want to talk about money right now.”

“Fine.” She sighed. “So, if this doctor guy thought you were a crook, why would he offer you a ride home?”

“He changed his mind about me.”

“Did he?” She sounded surprised.

“Yes. His friend found her cat, safe and sound as promised. He had no choice other than to admit my dazzling talent is legit. He even apologized.”

She laughed. “Wow.”

“Well, he saw up close and personal that I still have a tube TV and not a flat screen. I’m not cleaning out people’s bank accounts or conning them.”

“No. That would be Weston Bartholomew’s MO, not yours.”

I leaned back in my chair. “Maybe I should take a cue from Weston. He’s obviously doing better than me. He even has ads on bus benches now. The best I can do is pass out fliers at the grocery store.”

“Don’t even jest. You have too much integrity to ever go down that road.”

I pinched the skin between my eyes. “You can’t eat integrity.”

“No, but you’d hate yourself if you did anything more than stretch out sessions occasionally.”

“True.” I stood and took my half-eaten bowl of oatmeal to the sink. I washed it down the drain, shuddering. I didn’t love oatmeal on the best of days, but cold oatmeal was an abomination. “I wish you were here. I miss you.”

Her voice gentled. “I miss you too. I’m sorry I’m on vacation, Lorenzo. I should have been there to help out. Instead you needed a stranger to help you.”

“It was fine. It was just a ride home.”

“I know. I also know you don’t like trusting strangers.”

“No. I don’t. But I’m not a little kid anymore,” I said quietly. “I can handle myself now. He . . . he was just being a nice guy. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Yes, there are a lot of horrible people in the world. I . . . I know that better than anyone. But he did nothing wrong. He just wanted to help me.”

She hesitated. “If he was a creep would you be able to sense that?

“I think so.” I grimaced. “He’s not a creep though. He’s a respected doctor. He was simply being kind.”

“I just worry about you.”

“Yeah, I know.” Claire had always been protective of me, ever since we were kids. But while I appreciated her concern, I didn’t want to only talk about myself. “Tell me about your trip. Are you having fun?”

She groaned. “Kind of?”

“Oh, no. What’s wrong?”

“Well, Steven is driving me crazy.” Claire lowered her voice. “He’s acting all jealous and stuff. We took surfing lessons this morning, and he acted like the instructor was trying to run off with me.”

I grinned. “Were you flirting with the guy?” Odds were she had been. Claire couldn’t help flirting, and she went through men like tissues.

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Come on. You can tell me the truth. You were flirting, weren’t you?”

She gave a guilty laugh. “The surfing instructor was so hot. Blond, tanned and blue eyed. He was yummy. You’d have loved him.” She laughed even harder. “Okay, maybe I was flirting a little.”

“Well, knock it off. You have a man already. Leave some for the rest of us.”

“Pfft. As if you’re in the market.”

“You never know.” I thought about Ian and his warm brown eyes. “Maybe one day I’ll end my self-imposed dry spell.” Not that I had any plans to make a move on Ian anytime soon. Besides, for all I knew his concern for me was purely platonic. He was a caring guy. Wanting to check on me didn’t equal romantic interest. Which was a good thing because I didn’t want romance in my life. Right? Besides, who was I kidding? Ian was way out of my league. If he was into me, sex might be fun, but I didn’t have the energy to become emotionally invested in anything.

“So tell me more about this doctor slash hero.”

I definitely didn’t want to encourage her interest in Ian, so I ignored her question and instead said, “I got the weirdest phone call while I was in the hospital.”

I sensed her frustration through the phone that I was avoiding her question, but she went with it. “Did you?”

“Yeah, it was some old man who was babbling about a prophesy or something. I felt kind of bad for him because while he sounded crazy, he obviously believed what he was saying.”

“What did he want from you?”

“I’m not exactly sure.” I filled the tea kettle as I spoke, deciding a soothing cup of chamomile tea was just what I needed after trying to choke down cold oatmeal. “He was mostly warning me.”

“About what?”

“He seemed to think I was in danger, but he sounded so scattered, I couldn’t make sense of what he was saying.”

“Do you think it was a wrong number?”

“No. He knew my name.”

She sighed. “Oh. Well, if he calls again maybe you should block his number.”

“Yeah, good idea.”

She cleared her throat. “So anyway, tell me more about the hunky doctor guy.”

I winced. I’d foolishly hoped she’d taken the hint, but apparently not. “What do you want to know?” I asked in a resigned voice.

“You said he’s going to check up on you? What does that mean?”

The tea kettle whistled and I turned off the gas. “Simply that he’s going to call me and see if I’m alive. He’s just being a doctor. It’s no big deal.” I poured hot water into a mug and grabbed a box of tea from the cupboard over the stove. Tearing open the little paper packet, I dunked the bag into the steaming water, inhaling the refreshing lemon-and-chamomile-scented tea.

“That’s it? He just wants to check on you for impersonal reasons?” She sounded skeptical. “I’m not buying it. Come on. Spill it, Lorenzo.”

I exhaled tiredly. “Fine. He wants to have dinner sometime. Once I’m able to eat something other than rice and glorified baby food.”

“I knew it.” She sounded smug.

“It’s nothing big. You’re making too much of it. It’s just dinner.”

“Stop playing it down. I think he likes you.” She had a smile in her voice.

“This isn’t grade school, Claire.”

Ignoring me, she said, “A rich doctor boyfriend could do wonders for you.”

“It’s dinner. He doesn’t want to be my boyfriend.” I gave an embarrassed laughed. “God. This conversation is ridiculous.”

“No, it’s not. It would be good for you to have a relationship. It’s been far too long. You’re going to turn into a bitter recluse if you don’t open yourself up to other people.”

“I’m not looking for a relationship. You know that.” My tone was flat. “I might be open to sleeping with someone, but a relationship isn’t in the cards for me at the moment.”

“But if one falls in your lap you should give it a chance.”

“Come on, Claire,” I mumbled.

She sighed. “Lorenzo, you can’t just shut yourself off from the world forever.”

“Wanna bet?” My call waiting beeped and I glanced down at the number. I didn’t recognize it, so I hit ignore. If it was a client calling they’d be able to leave a message.

“I say give him a chance.”

“Of course you do,” I muttered.

“What could it hurt to have dinner?”

“If he keeps asking, I will have dinner. But that’s probably where it will end.”

“Oh, poo,” she grumbled. “I want to meet him.”

I laughed gruffly. “How did we go from me maybe having dinner with him to you meeting him? By the time you get back he’ll have moved on to his next conquest.” I cleared my throat. “Not . . . not that I plan on being a conquest.”

“Ha. I think that was some sort of Freudian slip.”

“No.”

“But you do think he’s attractive?”

“Well, that’s just a fact. Anyone would think he’s attractive.” I sighed. “But he knows he’s sexy. He’s too . . . sure of himself. He may be sexy, but he’s not really my type.”

She huffed. “You don’t have a type anymore. You haven’t had a real relationship in years.”

“Doesn’t Jay count?”

“Seriously? He was a jerk and you two weren’t really even together.”

“No, but that was why I didn’t mind what we had. No strings. No promises. No expectations.”

“And no depth.”

“Yeah, just as I wanted. The sex was good and that was enough.”

“Lorenzo,” she said sounding exasperated, “that isn’t healthy.”

“Says who?”

“Everyone.” She sighed. “Even if what you had with Jay was fantastic, which I’d argue it wasn’t, that was over years ago. You haven’t been with anyone since. That’s so sad.”

“I had a date.”

“Did you? With who?”

I grimaced. “I can’t remember his name.”

“Oh, boy.” She sighed. “I’ve got to do something drastic.”

I clenched my jaw. “You know why I’m the way I am.”

“I know.” Her voice was gentle. “But it’s time to move on and rejoin the living.”

“I get along better with the dead.”

“You always say that shit, but I remember the guy who had dudes running after him in high school.”

Hanging my head, I shrugged. “None of them meant anything to me. You know that. It was just sex.”

“I know, but you had a lot of fun. You used to like fun.”

“That’s ancient history. I’m not the same.”

“You don’t have to be. You just have to be open to quality guys should they come along. This doctor sounds like a good guy. I mean, he drove you home and knew for a fact he wasn’t getting any.”

I grimaced. “Very funny.”

She gave a snort of a laugh. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist.”

My call waiting beeped again, and when I checked, it was that same strange number. “Somebody keeps calling me.”

“It’s probably someone wanting to talk to you about your car warranty expiring.” She sighed. “I get one of those calls at least once a week.”

“The warranty on my junker expired two decades ago.”

“Yeah. I’m surprised your car still runs.”

“Me too.” I sat down at the table, sipping my tea. I winced because it was so hot and said, “I had the strangest thing happen the other day during a reading.”

“Did you?” Claire sounded curious.

“It was the reading where Ian was there. The spirit didn’t want to leave my body. I had to force her out. To be honest, I was scared for a minute she was going to win.”

“Good Lord, really?” she squeaked. “Has that ever happened before?”

“Not really. Not since I was a kid, and never to that extent.”

“But she did leave,” Claire said. “How did you get rid of her?”

I fingered the little paper tag on my tea bag. “Ian touched me, and she left.”

“Really?” She sounded surprised. “Why would touching you make the ghost leave?”

“I don’t know.” Guilt nudged me as I confessed, “But I stole some of his energy because I felt so weak.”

“Did you?”

“His energy was so beautifully pure and intoxicating.” I laughed sheepishly.

She sounded amused as she said, “How sexy.”

My cheeks warmed. “He can never know. I couldn’t help myself. He’d probably hate me if he knew I did that.”

“Or maybe he’d let you drain him some other way.” She laughed.

“God, be quiet.” The heat in my face increased.

“I’m just sayin’.” She put her hand over the mouthpiece, and I heard muffled voices. Then she came back on the line. “Damn. I have to go. Steven wants to go get breakfast to soothe his massive hang over.”

I laughed. “Fair enough.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow. Stay safe.”

“I will.” I hung up and went to my computer to work. I had four people waiting for me in a chat room on the psychic network website I worked for. Since I didn’t want to be interrupted, I turned off my cell and grabbed a stack of tarot cards.

I shuffled the deck as I chatted with the first client. She was a young girl struggling with a breakup. I tried to concentrate on her problems and give her insight, but when The Tower card continually came up, I couldn’t help but feel that card was more directed at me than her.

Once she’d left the chat room, I shuffled the deck several times. When The Tower card once more appeared, uneasiness rippled through me. I studied the colorful card in my hand. The Tower card depicted an ominous black tower being struck by bolts of lightning. The Tower appeared to be crumbling, and many psychics interpreted that to symbolize unexpected upheavals or disruptions in one’s life.

For whatever reason, my thoughts immediately went to the weird phone call I’d received in the hospital. While I felt silly even contemplating for one second whether the old man’s warning about a prophesy could be true, I couldn’t shake the feeling the card was connected to his phone call. I was unsettled by why that particular card had continuously surfaced during the reading with the young girl and even after she’d left. Even shuffling hadn’t helped.

Of course, The Tower card wasn’t necessarily negative. It wasn’t definitively warning me of doom heading my way. The card could also be interpreted as a card of change and necessary transformation. Was the universe hinting to me, not-so-subtly, that I was stuck in a rut? That I needed to embrace change? Was Claire right about me needing to open myself up to people more? Or was the universe telling me to give up my psychic gig and instead get a job at Walmart?

With a groan I set the cards face down. Psychoanalyzing myself wouldn’t put food on the table. I needed to get some actual work done. I’d worry about possible messages to me from the other side later, after I’d made some money.

I spent the next two hours helping a grieving widower, a woman going through a divorce, and a young man who wasn’t sure he should take a job offer. By the time I’d helped all of my clients, my head ached and my stitches hurt. But at least I’d made some money.

I shut down my laptop and went into the kitchen to make myself something to eat. I was staring into my mostly empty fridge when the doorbell rang. I glanced down at my skimpy boxers. I’d never changed out of what I slept in since I hadn’t planned on interacting in person with the living today.

I crept toward the door, hoping I could peek out the front window and see who it was without being seen. My unwelcome visitor knocked on the door and rang the bell again several more times. I frowned, feeling grumpy that anyone was bothering me when I felt this shitty.

I looked through the blinds but whoever it was seemed to be just out of sight. They knocked and rang the bell some more, and I moved back toward the kitchen wondering if I should go get my robe on and answer the door or just continue to ignore them.

“Lorenzo? Are you all right?” A muffled male voice called through the door.

I was shocked to recognize Ian’s voice. I approached the door and unlocked it, opening it a tiny crack. “Ian?”

His jaw was tight. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

I studied him, taking in his frazzled appearance. “My phone?”

“Yes. I tried calling you a bunch of times.”

“Oh.” I frowned. “You did?”

“Yes.” He raked his hand through his blond hair. “But you didn’t answer. You scared me.”

“Sorry. I was talking to a friend. I didn’t know it was you calling.” I grimaced. “Then I shut my phone off so I could work.”

His worried gaze scanned my face. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“I am. I’m fine.” I was self-conscious about being half-dressed, but I felt bad leaving him standing out on the porch. “Um . . . did you want to come in?”

Shrugging, he looked down at his shoes. “I don’t want to intrude.”

Hesitating, I looked over my shoulder toward my bedroom. “I need to get some clothes on. I wasn’t expecting visitors.”

He nodded and his gaze dropped to my bare chest. “Okay.” A warm rush rolled through me at the interested look in his eyes, but then he looked over my head instead. “I’ll just wait here.”

“Be right back.” I hurried away and headed through the beaded curtain to my bedroom. I grabbed a T-shirt that was hung on a chair and pulled it over my head. Feeling breathless, I tugged on jeans and raked my hands through my messy hair. I wasn’t sure why I felt so flustered. I guess it had been a long time since a guy had come to my house for anything other than a psychic reading. It was weird to think Ian had been so worried about me.

When I opened the front door I found Ian waiting patiently, leaning against a pillar on the front porch. “I’m decent now,” I joked.

He smiled and cautiously entered the house. “I’m sorry to barge in on you. I really was just going to call you to check on you. When you didn’t answer . . . I started picturing you surrounded by ghosts and you being too weak to fend them off. Kind of triggered anxiety in me. Even though I’m still not sure I believe in the whole supernatural thing, I couldn’t stop worrying.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I made you worry. I had my phone turned off. To be completely honest, I didn’t expect you to really call.”

He frowned. “But I said I would.”

“Yes.” I grimaced. “I thought you were just being polite.”

“Oh.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh . . . no. I said I’d call to check on you because I truly intended to do that.”

“Okay, well, I . . . I’m sorry you came all the way over here for nothing.”

He winced. “Thank goodness it was for nothing. The alternative is not good.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course that’s true.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay. I had visions of you slipping in the shower.” He grimaced. “God. That sounded so pervy. I don’t mean that I was envisioning you in the shower.” His laugh was awkward. “I’m making it worse, aren’t I?”

I held up my fingers as if measuring something. “Little bit.” I smiled. “I just made a pot of coffee. Would you like some?”

He looked relieved to change the subject. “Yes, please.” He followed me into the tiny kitchen just off my main work space.

His expression was impartial as he took in the earthy brown, tan, and orange tones of the linoleum tile. He next examined the worn oak cabinets and the avocado green stove and fridge. The top of the fridge housed an embarrassing number of boxes of Captain Crunch cereal. But thankfully, he made no comment about my guilty pleasure. He gazed up at the floating shelf over the sink where herbs grew in small ceramic pots.

“I keep meaning to grow my own herbs,” he said.

“They taste better than the dried stuff.” It was cheaper to grow my own herbs too, but I didn’t bother mentioning that.

He peered out the window above the sink, and I hoped he didn’t notice the dirty dishes stacked in the rack. “This street is such a weird mix of businesses and houses,” he said.

“Yeah. It’s zoned commercial and residential, although the city wants to buy up the homes. Mayor Spears wants to revamp the area into just businesses, but not sure she’ll be successful. Some of the people have lived here for decades.” I stood on my tip toes to grab him a mug out of the cupboard—and winced. The movement pulled my stiches a bit.

“Most of the houses look fairly run down.”

“Yeah. It’s really just elderly people living in them mostly. It’s kind of a shame. It used to be a really nice street with lots of families and healthy green lawns.” A smile touched my lips. “I remember kids riding their bikes on the sidewalk, and the ice cream truck used to park up at the end of the lane, playing the same song over and over.”

“Sounds nice.”

I poured his coffee into a big yellow mug. “It was.” I looked up. “Cream or sugar?”

“Just cream.”

I added the dairy product and stirred. “I guess that’s just how life is—full of change.”

“Yeah.” He took the cup from me and our fingers brushed. “But sometimes that’s a good thing.”

“Maybe.” I sipped my coffee and studied his angular features. He had an aristocratic look about him, with high cheek bones and a long slender nose. His blond hair brushed his collar, and his white shirt hugged his lean torso. My stomach tightened when he glanced up and caught me looking at him.

“It must be pretty deserted here at night. Don’t you ever feel nervous all alone on this street?”

I shook my head. “No. Not really.” Although, I had to admit after that strange incident with the green stone, and my run-in with that malevolent spirit down the street, I did feel less secure lately. But no one else had tried coming in my house since. At least, not that I was aware of.

He took a drink from his beverage and after he swallowed he asked, “And you do live alone, right?”

I smirked. “Well, except for my boyfriend, Guido. I keep him in the closet. Would you like to meet him?”

He laughed sheepishly. “Was it too obvious I was fishing to see if you have a boyfriend?”

“Kind of. But I’m not worried about being here alone, and you shouldn’t worry either. I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

“I’m sure you can.” He set his coffee on the counter. “Why are you single?”

I stiffened at his bluntness and countered, “Why are you single?”

He smiled. “Touché.”

“And really, can you ask me that knowing I’m a professional psychic? I hang out with dead people. That’s not exactly something that would make me popular on a dating app. Anyway, being single isn’t so bad.” I stood a little straighter. “It beats sitting through dinner, making boring conversation with a stranger.”

“I agree. But I get the feeling that isn’t actually why you’re single.”

I stiffened. “No?”

“No.” He narrowed his eyes. “I think there’s something much deeper going on with you.”

I avoided his gaze. “I’m just not in a place in my life where I want or need a relationship.”

“How old are you?”

I faked a gasp. “How dare you, sir.”

His lips twitched. “Here, let me go first. I’m thirty.”

“God, you’re ancient.”

He laughed. “Now it’s your turn.” His expression was expectant.

I tapped my finger on the side of my coffee cup. “I’m twenty-five.”

“You look younger.”

“Well, at least your momma raised you with manners.”

He smiled and gestured to the kitchen chairs. “Do you mind if I sit?”

“Not at all.”

He sat at the small kitchen table, crossing his legs. “How about you tell me about yourself?”

I laughed. “Really? What is this, an interview?”

“Don’t mock me.” He fake-pouted. “I just want to get to know you. Don’t make me work so hard. It’ll hurt my delicate feelings.”

I leaned against the counter across from him, trying not to smile. His confidence was attractive. I found myself drawn in even though that was the last thing I wanted. “You definitely don’t have low self-esteem.”

“That’s a good thing. The last thing you want is a doctor with poor self-esteem.”

“Good point.” We held each other’s gaze.

“I wasn’t always the confident stud you see before you.” He smirked. “In high school I too had the usual insecurities. I assumed nobody would ever love me for me.”

“Really?”

“Yes. My high school experience wasn’t completely perfect.”

“Please tell me you at least had acne.”

He shook his head. “No. But I had braces. Does that help?”

“It’s a start.”

“I was more serious than most kids in my class. I was driven. Even at that age I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life.” He stared off into space. “Socially, I was popular, maybe because my family had money.” He laughed. “But I never knew if kids liked me for me or because they wanted to swim in my pool and play video games on my Play Station console.”

“Poor baby.”

He shot me a narrowed glance. “Be nice.”

“I’ll try.” I stood and took my empty cup to the sink. “It must have been great to know what you wanted your life to look like at such a young age.”

“Not really my whole life. Just my career.”

“So you’re not your job?” I leaned against the counter and crossed my arms.

“Of course there are things about me as a person that make me good at what I do.” He shrugged. “I’m someone who thinks things through and analyzes stuff. It’s my personality. But those same qualities that might make me a good doctor interfere with me finding a significant other.”

I tilted my head, interested in what he was saying. “Why?”

“Because I have trouble just going with the flow.” He waved his hand, and the green jewel in his ring caught my eye. “You know, just letting things go where they will.”

“Is that a nice way of saying you’re controlling?”

He frowned. “I don’t think I’m controlling. But I like a plan. I like structure.”

“And that’s why you’re single?”

“Maybe.”

“So you want a real relationship?” I arched one brow.

He shrugged and studied his cuticles. “I’m open to the idea.”

I snorted. “Bullshit. That isn’t what the nurses at your hospital say.”

His face tinted pink. “Excuse me?”

“While I was in the hospital I heard a lot about you. Whether I wanted to or not.”

He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, looking horrified. “What are you talking about?”

I laughed outright because he looked so mortified. “The nurses noticed that you came to see me a few times. It sparked some interesting conversations.”

“With you?”

“Yep.”

Standing, he approached me. His obvious shock made me regret mentioning the conversations I’d had with the nurses. But after all the little stories I’d heard about him being commitment-phobic, it had been impossible to keep my mouth shut when he was sitting there pretending to be open to a serious relationship.

“What kind of interesting conversations?” he asked.

His close proximity made me nervous. His eyes seemed to look through me, and I could feel the heat of his body only inches from mine. “Well . . . maybe conversation is the wrong word. I didn’t really say much. They just told me a few stories.”

“Why would they gossip about me? I’m perfectly nice to them.” His jaw tensed. “Yet they were talking about me behind my back?”

I twisted my lips. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Sorry. They weren’t being mean or anything. They really like you.”

“What did they say exactly?”

“Does it really matter?” I winced.

“Yes. It does to me. If it wasn’t mean, as you say, then why not tell me?”

“Fine.” I sighed. “The consensus is you don’t want a serious relationship. A few of them said you’ve dated some really cool guys in the last year, but you always found fault with them.”

He frowned and his cheeks turned pink again. “Just because someone is ‘cool’ doesn’t mean they’re right for you long term.”

“I agree.” I felt a little breathless when he turned his intense gaze back onto me. “But they think you have a check list. If the person doesn’t meet every criterion, then you dump them.”

“That’s absurd.” He frowned.

My laugh was awkward. “Really this isn’t any of my business. Like I said, they just volunteered stuff because you came to see me a few times.”

Being so close to him was doing weird things to my knees. But before I could put any space between us, he grabbed my wrist. His hard fingers sank into my skin making me even more breathless.

He had a funny look on his face. “I don’t have a checklist.”

I swallowed nervously. “We all have things we need.” I grimaced. “I mean in another person. Nobody wants to just settle.”

“Exactly.” He nodded.

“Nothing wrong with that,” I said softly.

“Not at all.” His voice was hushed.

I licked my lips. “We want what we want.”

“Yeah. We want . . . what we want.” He tugged me gently against his body and I pulled in a sharp breath. His other hand pressed the small of my back, and his eyes narrowed. “Why do I feel like I know you?”

“No idea.” I knew he wanted to kiss me. Maybe I should have pushed him away, but I was curious. Tempted. I wanted to know what he tasted like, and I didn’t seem able to think of any reasons why we shouldn’t kiss.

He lowered his head, his mouth just inches from mine. His breath was warm and infused with coffee, and my body tingled with anticipation. It felt like this had always been inevitable. I had no idea why I felt that, especially considering how he’d been when we first met. But since that day, I’d had trouble getting him out of my mind.

He hesitated as if he was uncertain about kissing me. I think I surprised us both when I raised up on my toes and pressed my mouth to his. With a little groan, he gave in and claimed my mouth.