Page 97 of Play With Me

He looked at me like I didn’t know shit. “You don’t get a hot shave with a man if he’s not your bro.”

“He said it was the best shave of his life.” I didn’t miss the quick flash of satisfaction on his face. He was so cute.

“I can either be your bro or your assistant. Your choice.” I tried Vivian’s trick.

He leaned back in his chair, crossing one elegant knee over the other. “I’m choosy about my bros, Louisa. And my assistants.”

“I’m choosy-ing you, mister.” It sounded better in my head. I scrunched my nose, but I saw the corner of his mouth lift. I’m in.

“I’ll go with you just so she knows I’m watching. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like you’re warming up to me, Jean-Baptiste,” I said, unable to hide the giddiness in my voice. He smiled wryly at me while he stacked our dishes.

I took them to the counter for us, and when I turned around the afternoon sun was shining in just so. Like a Spanish painting; St. James the Baptist. This gentle, beautiful man with light all around him, drumming his fingers on the table while he waited for me, just a little bit bitchy. Exactly the way Has likes them. Was he The One?

Madame Esmé was open by appointment only according to the sign on the door of The Open Palm. Jaimie rolled his eyes, and I quickly dialed the number from the coupon.

“Madame Esmé from The Open Palm speaking. How may I help you?”

I covered my phone with my hand, mouthing to Jaimie, Why doesn’t she already know?

“I’m a palm reader, not a psychic,” she said. I gasped. Holy shit! She was psychic.

As a Millennial, I hated making appointments by phone, so I hadn’t thought this far. “Uh, hi there. I have a coupon for a free palm reading?” I said. This was my worst nightmare.

“Louisa Ford?” My eyes widened and my mouth dropped open in shock. I looked at Jaimie, but he was as unflappable as ever.

“Yes, that’s me, Madame Esmé,” I breathed. Maybe she needed an assistant. I could start sucking up now.

“Look, I’m all out of eggs. If you run down the street to pick some up for me, I’ll meet you back at the shop in 30 minutes.” My eyebrows turned down into a frown. Not that kind of assistant, I told her in my brain.

“Did she just ask you to buy her eggs?” Jaimie whispered. “Unbelievable.”

But I wanted this clue so I agreed.

“Pasture-raised. Brown. Not the local brand. He’s my ex,” she coughed into my ear. It was the most aggressive cough I’d ever heard. “Oh and grab me a cheeseball from the deli on your way back.” What? What was happening? If anyone ever asked me why I hate the phone so much I would be able to cite this conversation for eternity.

“Anything else?” I asked, hoping there wasn’t. Jaimie threw his hands into the air.