“It’s very helpful,” he says, tilting his head. “Do you at least have condoms in your purse?”
I whip around so fast I nearly knock his elbow. “I’m sorry, what now?”
“I’m asking a valid question.”
“I most certainly do not,” I say, staring at him. “And I am not sleepin’ with Alexei.”
Jules tries not to laugh but can’t help it. “Magnolia Hayes.” He looks me over slowly. “With a man that looks like dessert, you should always be prepared to say yes.”
My mouth falls open. “Lord have mercy, you’re unbelievable.”
“And you’re welcome,” he says, entirely too pleased with himself.
He steps back studying me. I know that look. He’s checking details, hair, hemline, shoes, and whether I’m about to unravel in a dress he had to talk me into ten minutes ago.
“You’re gorgeous as hell,” he says, and because it’s Jules, and because he doesn’t hand out compliments like parade candy, ithits me square in the chest. “Annoyingly so, actually. If I were less secure, I’d take issue with it.”
I laugh and run my fingers over the fabric at my waist. “Feels like I’m playin’ dress-up, if I’m honest.”
Jules steps closer, his teasing fading a little. “You’re not,” he says, fixing my hair over my shoulder. “You just forgot what it looks like when you let yourself have a moment.”
He meets my eyes in the mirror. “And for the record, if he doesn’t lose his mind when he sees you, I will personally revoke his privileges.”
Heat climbs up my neck, and I press my lips together, shaking my head like that might hide my smile. “You’re too much,” I mutter.
I move past him into the living room, needing a little space from my own reflection. My apartment looks better than it has any right to for a weeknight. I straightened the throw blanket on the sofa twice. I put the dishes away. I even wiped down the kitchen counter, although nobody is coming in here except Jules, and he’s seen me eat cereal over the sink in an old shelter T-shirt with cat hair stuck to it.
The black dress hugs my hips as I walk across the room, and I smooth the fabric again. My heels click lightly on the floor. Outside, the evening has gone dusky and blue, the last bit of light clinging to the edges of the neighboring buildings. Somewhere down the street, a car door slams, and farther off, I can hear someone’s dog barking like they’ve got a vendetta against the moon.
Jules follows, stopping by the sofa where he places my discarded dress options in a heap. “For the record,” he says, “I support this.”
I squint at him. “What, exactly, do you support?”
He gestures at me, then at the window, like Alexei’s estate could be right outside. “This. You puttin’ on a dress. Goin’ somewhere that isn’t the shelter, the diner, or this apartment. You sittin’ down to eat a meal that didn’t come out of a microwave or a paper sack while a frighteningly attractive man stares at you across the table.”
I spray the perfume once into the air and step through it. “That’s a very specific picture.”
“It’s also my gift.”
I laugh again and lean against the counter. Having him here helps. I’m still nervous, but it’s less wild now and more like a low vibration under my skin.
My phone is on the counter next to the car keys I won’t need, since Alexei didn’t ask whether I wanted the address or preferred to drive myself. He just sent a car. That’s been on my mind all afternoon. No message asking what worked for me. No “see you at seven.” Just a car, a driver, and the expectation I’d get in. And the worst part is, I let him decide.
No, that’s not the worst part. The worst part is that I liked it.
I push away from the counter and walk to the window, parting the curtain with two fingers. The street below glows with porch lights and fading shadows. My stomach flips all over again.
“Don’t tell me you’re peekin’ for the car,” Jules says behind me.
“I’m not peekin’.”
“You’re peekin’ with conviction.”
I let the curtain fall and turn back around. “What if this is weird?”
“It is weird,” he says right away. “It’s a private dinner at a private estate with a man who looks like he could bury a body without wrinkling his shirt. Weird is already in the room.”
“That’s not helpin’ either.”
