Page 132 of The Blind Date


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A little too fast, I give the wrap-up. “So, Sunshiners, that’s what’s happening. Now you know how we met, that it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, and I’m happy on a whole different level. Not because I have a man in my life now but because I’m learning and growing as a person and as a partner. If that interests you, check out BlindDate. And stay tuned for more adventures with Riley Sunshine.”

“And Midnight Mark,” Noah adds.

We give a closing Sunshine Salute to the camera and freeze for a moment before I click the remote to end the recording.

“Now what?” Noah asks.

“I’ll do a rewatch, make sure there’s nothing to edit, and send it to the media team at Life Corp for approval. I won’t have to do that every time, but for this first big reveal, they want to preview it.”

“That’s not what I meant, Riley,” he says, deep and dark. “Now what?” he asks again.

I find my inner flirt. “Well, I guess I am rather thirsty. Coffee, juice, water?” I ask coyly. “I bet there’s going to be a lot of thirsty women after they see that video.”

“I only care about one woman’s thirst. And I’ve already prepared a straw for you,” Noah says, somehow keeping a straight face as he looks pointedly at the bulge in his pants.

“That was bad,” I answer with a little laugh.

Noah smiles, not offended at all. I like that while we can have amazing, powerfully intense sex, we can also tease and taunt, sweetly making each other happy with our version of humor. Not everyone sees it, but Noah is a funny man.

I trace the upturn of his lips, liking that I do that to him. More than anyone else, and in so many ways, I make him smile. He deserves that.

“Should I get champagne again? To celebrate our video?” I ask, knowing full well that he’ll remember the time I gave him a blow job with a mouthful of liquid bubbles.

He groans, his abdomen caving in as his hips curl up, searching for me. “Just your mouth, Sunshine. Please.”

Oh, I love it when he says please. Turns me to goo, instant putty in his hands.

Chapter 30

Noah

“I do believe that’s checkmate, right?” the old guy says, looking down his nose at the chessboard. His brow is furrowed as though he’s uncertain, but I was warned about his ploys.

“You win again, Viktor,” I tell him with a shake of my head. I’m not letting him win. For all his tricks and ‘playing forgetful’, he’s wiped the board with me three games in a row.

“You want a break? We could check on the ladies. See how they’re doing,” he suggests, already standing up and grabbing his cane.

I guess we’re going to check on the ladies. Not that I mind.

When Riley told me about today, inviting me to come along, I’d been unsure. I’m not exactly the guy who volunteers with senior citizens to put on a makeshift prom at four in the afternoon. Or anytime, ever.

But her excitement had been beautiful, and I wouldn’t miss the opportunity to see her happiness for anything. So here I am . . . entertaining Viktor, who’s been way more entertaining to me than vice versa.

I slowly walk inside with Viktor, letting him set the pace.

“Hello, lovey ladies,” he calls out when we find the female residents, Riley, and Arielle sitting around a table covered in Joroast makeup supplies. To one particular woman, Viktor says, “Oh, Mrs. Johnson, your eyes are looking especially beautiful tonight. Maybe I can fit you in my dance card if you’d like a spin around the floor this evening?”

The woman blinks in response, which Viktor takes as a yes. He picks up her hand, kissing the back gently, and then offers her a friendly dip of his chin, tipping an invisible hat. A few steps away, he whispers, “It’s good to see her awake. Sleeps most of the time these days.”

“Will she be able to dance?” I ask worriedly, “or move the chair around the floor?” I correct, realizing that the old woman is sitting in a wheelchair.

Viktor smiles sorrowfully. “She won’t remember the conversation, Son. That’s why I said that. She’s awake and mostly alert. Might as well give her a moment of joy . . . a compliment, a promise of something to look forward to, a kindness. It’s the least I can do for her.”

“I’m not always the scoundrel my reputation makes me out to be,” he says with a grin that belies his words. I think Viktor likes his reputation, even if it’s not all entirely true.

“I told you he lies,” Riley says, overhearing Viktor’s last words. “And cheats. That’s why he always wins at checkers.” She’s teasing, laughing and joking with the old man who preens at the attention.

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