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“The ones you threatened to have me arrest Gerry for touching?”

“He licked one.”

“He was checking ripeness.”

“With his tongue.”

Owen shakes his head.

“You've got it bad.”

No shit.

I leave the tomatoes in Belinda’s kitchen with a note.

For your culinary pleasure.

No strings.

No tricks.

No bats.

—D

The next morning, there're two gorgeous, deep dish tomato tarts and three trays of focaccia cooling in Belinda's kitchen window. Not to mention eight one-quart jars of homemade tomato sauce cooling on a rack.

She doesn't give me any.

Cruel woman.

Still, this is progress, right?

Then I make a mistake.

Jewelry.

In my defense, I'm a Leeds. Money is practically a love language.

I send her a bracelet.

Nothing ridiculous.

It’s tasteful.

Gold. Tiny red stones around the chain because they remind me of the new red edging in her magic.

She sends it back.

I send matching ruby earrings.

She sends those back too.

I send a necklace.

Then Owen finds out and calls me an idiot.

Annabeth calls me something worse.