They walked outside. Matthew patted his stomach. “That was good, but you’re right—I couldn’t take another bite either.”
“It was amazing, and beautiful to look at too. I can’t believe I called you homeless. I’m still dying over that.”
“You’re forgiven, but I might still tease you about it. Come on. Let’s burn some calories.” He broke into a run down the sidewalk all the way to the gallery. “I want to show you something,” he encouraged her to catch up.
She jogged toward him, laughing.
Matthew stopped in front of the gallery abruptly. “Shoot. It’s closed.”
She actually looked disappointed. “Maybe I could get a rain check.”
“Without the rain next time?” he teased.
“Definitely.”
But he really didn’t want to wait. “Or… you could come with me to a new gallery opening in Williamsburg Thursday night.” He turned to face her, and it surprised him that he had an overwhelming desire to have her accompany him. Something he usually avoided. “It’s going to be quite the gala. Black-tie and all. Please say yes.”
“Just so happens that I’m free this Thursday night, and I love Williamsburg.”
He’d been half-joking, never expecting her to accept the invitation after she gave him such a hard time about a simple dinner, but he was so pleased that she had. “I’ll have the prettiest woman in the room on my arm.”
She pressed her lips together. “Well, I look forward to seeing what you have up your sleeve. Are you sure you’re an artist and not a magician?”
“I promise to wear sleeves. It is black-tie, after all.”
“Please do.” She shook her head, laughing at his joke. “I probably should call it a night. I have a busy day tomorrow. I’ll call a Lyft.” She reached for her phone.
“No, ma’am. My folks raised me better than that. I could drive you if you want to walk about eight blocks in the opposite direction to my car. It’d probably be faster to just call the Lyft. I’ll ride with you to drop you off, which will let me know where to pick you up for the gala, and then I’ll have them take me home.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“Good.” He plugged in the request on his phone. “Two minutes away.”
“Perfect timing.” They stood there quietly for a moment, waiting, and then she asked the most random question. “Do you have a favorite color?”
“I’m an artist. I love all of them. Why?”
“I was trying to decide which dress I should wear.”
“In that case,” he stepped back and looked at her, imagining all the colors of the rainbow against her skin, and which one would show off her beautiful blue eyes. “Something vibrant. Purple, maybe?”
Her lips parted as she smiled. “I have the perfect dress, and you’re tall so I can wear my favorite shoes.”
“Call me lucky.”
The car pulled to a stop in front of the gallery. The driver rolled down his window. “Are you… Mural Guy?”
“That’s me,” he said.
“That’s what your account is under?” She bumped into him with her shoulder and whispered. “Mural guy. I like it.”
He held the door for her and then slid in beside her. “I had fun tonight. Thanks for letting me take you to dinner.”
Whitney gave the driver her address. “I’m really glad you and Carina shamed me into it.”
It was only a short ride before the driver pulled in front of Whitney’s condominium. “This is me,” she said. “What time should I expect you Thursday?”
“Can you make five thirty work?”
