“What else?” I ask, not even caring if this is real or not. I’m here to practice—to master the art of whatever this is between us.
He moves closer still, and I can smell the faint scent of his cologne again. “Proximity,” he murmurs. “Letting someone into your space. Reading their response. And not moving away.”
He’s closer than ever now, and for one wild moment, I see him differently—not like someone I’m practicing with, but someone I’d actually want this to be real with.
“And then?” I ask, my voice barely audible.
His eyes graze down my face for just a second. The corner of his mouth quirks up. “And then…you always leave them wanting more.”
He reaches past me for the doorknob, his arm briefly brushing against mine. “And that concludes today’s lesson,” he says, opening the door easily.
Wait—he picked the lock before this whole demonstration even started?
Only then does he move away, and I’m left standing there,wondering how a two-minute practice session left me more breathless than a sprint around the block.
I watch him gather the cupcake boxes like nothing just happened between us. And that’s when I remember his “lady friend” and feel a twinge of disappointment. I can’t actually date Lucian if he’s going out with someone else.
“No pressure, of course. But think about my offer,” he says, before turning to leave.
“But what about your lady friend?” I blurt. “Won’t she care if you’re dating someone else?”
“Who?” he asks, looking confused.
“The woman you’re delivering cupcakes to,” I remind him.
“You mean Emmy’s grandma?”
“Wait.Mimiis your lady friend?” I ask, my mouth hanging open.
“Yeah, I’m delivering these to the assisted living facility,” he says. “Who’d you think I was delivering these to?”
Heat floods my face as I realize how jealous I sounded. “I mean…nobody. I don’t care who you deliver cupcakes to.”
“Hmm,” he says, his eyes narrowing. “For someone who doesn’t care, you sure sounded relieved just now.”
I cross my arms. “I was just being practical. Can’t have a practice date if you’re already taken.”
“Right.Practical.” His grin widens. “Well, now that we’ve established I’m completely available for practice dating…”
“Don’t let it go to your head, Mr. Fix-It.”
“Too late, Cupcake,” he says, backing toward the door. “Waytoo late.”
CHAPTER 9
LUCIAN
Icarry the cupcakes into the assisted living facility and spot Mimi immediately in the common room—silver hair styled perfectly, baby-blue cardigan over a crisp white blouse, studying her bingo card like it’s a matter of life and death.
She looks up from her card when I walk in. “Lucian?” she exclaims loudly enough that half the room turns to look. “Ladies, this is my tenant I’ve been telling you about. The one who fixed my leaky faucet and brings me flowers every week.”
Every week?I brought her a wildflower bouquet from the farmers’ marketoncewhen I first got here.
“Hello, Mrs. Roberts,” I say, approaching her table where two other women are eyeing me like I’m Mimi’s boyfriend. “I’m here to help you with your bingo strategy.”
I set the cupcakes down in front of her, and her eyes light up.
“Are these from Neesha?” she asks, already reaching for the box. “How is she?”
