I watch, entranced, while she turns in a slow circle. She looks up at the moon, then sighs and sinks to sit on the concrete half wall separating the row of shops from the beach beyond.
I angle around and sit next to her, my leg nearly touching hers. “Run out of ideas?”
She shakes her head, still gazing at the moon. “Ran out of people.”
Oh.
Oh.
I’ve been so focused on Duchess—I will get her real name before the night is over—that I didn’t realize no one else was around.
Huh.
Come to think of it, the last four good deeds she’s done have been for animals. Three stray cats, and now this dog.
I squeeze her thigh. “Stay here. I’ll go knock on doors and wake people up so we can do good deeds for them.”
“That is not how good deeds work.”
I love the moon tonight.
It’s bright enough that I can see her chiding smile.
“Maybe we need to redefine how good deeds are done.”
The sigh that comes out of her is so deep, she must’ve dragged it from beneath the ocean floor.
I want to pull her into my lap and kiss her until the only sounds she’s making are happy sounds. Ecstatic sounds.
Since we left the bar, she’s serenaded a couple who were fighting until they couldn’t remember why they were mad anymore, chased down a guy who dropped his wallet, and honest to god, not making this up, saved a toddler from walking into a street in front of a car.
Together, we’ve stealthily bought dinner and drinks for a lot of people.
Me more than her, though I made sure she was distracted before I pulled out my own credit card and added to what she’d asked the bartender or waitstaff to do.
And all the while, we’ve both been hiding our credit cards and receipts so neither of us can see the other’s real name.
But that look is back.
The I am a terrible person who will never do enough good to make up for the harm I’ve caused look.
“C’mon.” I make a hand it over gesture. “Out with it. Let this one go too.”
“Let what one go?”
“Whatever has you sighing like that. Spill it and forget it.”
“Spilling it to you won’t repair the relationship I murdered today.”
“You’ve been out here avoiding that relationship all night.”
“Stop being smart. You’re with me because you’re cute and funny, not because you’re smart.”
Did I just sprout feathers and preen like a damn peacock?
Why, yes. Yes, I did. She sees me as something more than a brain without feelings. She thinks I’m funny.
“Maybe I have layers,” I tell her. “Maybe I can also be smart.”
“Hate to break it to you, my friend, but if you were smart, you wouldn’t have left that bar with me.”
She doesn’t believe I’m smart.
This is even better than her buying my drinks.
“Most people wouldn’t be smiling quite so big at being told they’re not smart,” she says dryly.
“It’s just nice to have a woman want me for my body instead of my brains.”
She cracks up.
Actually cracks up with a full belly laugh that morphs into a bent-over, side-clutching, full-out hyena guffaw at my expense.
“You don’t think my body’s hot?” I wiggle my brows, even though I don’t think she can see me with the way she’s swiping at her eyes.
I haven’t felt this light in years.
“You’re very hot,” she assures me between giggles.
“Clearly that’s where all of my good genes went. I won’t remember a word you say about whatever’s bothering you. Too much of an airhead.”
“I take it back. You’re smart, Mr. Mathematician. You were kind to leave the bar with me.”
“Psh. I’m an asshole.”
She’s sparkling again. Eyes lit up, lips spread in a wide smile. “Well, I deserve to only have assholes in my life, so I’m glad to hear it.”
I nudge her, mostly looking for any excuse to touch her the way she touched me in the bar. “Spill. What’d you do that’s so awful?”
Bye-bye sparkle.
My fault.
But it’s for the greater good. She’ll sparkle again once she has it off her chest, I’m positive.
But first, I get another heavy sigh. “I’m here with friends.”
“Lovely people, I’m sure, if they’re your friends.”
I am currently living for the way her lips tip up when she fights smiles after I say something devastatingly charming or amusing.