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There, a woman walked up next to me, leaned in close, and told me that I had two small blue handprints on my ass.
Those handprints belong to Tabitha.
It was my brilliant idea to bust out the finger painting set I had bought Bodhi for his birthday.
Tabitha dove into the blue paint with enthusiasm. Bodhi was much more restrained as he dipped each of his fingertips in a different color before he painted what looked like an absolute masterpiece on a sheet of paper.
My niece took her talent to the wall in the kitchen, then the refrigerator, and finally my dress.
I knew she touched me, but I was too busy scrubbing the paint from the wall to put two and two together.
I hold my head high as I walk into the lobby of my building. I’ve made it this far with the two tiny handprints on the skirt of my pink dress. Surely, I can manage to get from here to my apartment without anyone saying another word about it.
I breeze past the doorman with a wave of my hand in his direction.
I’m grateful it’s not Lester because he always rushes toward me when I arrive home. I don’t know if he’s in search of a tip or just a friendly hello. I haven’t put more than a few dollars in his palm since moving in. I can’t afford it right now, and besides, Grady told me that he overtips the doormen, so I shouldn’t worry about it.
I approach the bank of elevators with quick steps. Just as I jab my finger into the call button, I hear heavy footsteps behind me.
“Please don’t let it be him,” I whisper. “Please.”
The last thing I need is my boss to catch me like this.
The footsteps slow, and I know the person is right behind me. It’s a man. I can tell from the scent of cologne that is filling the air. It smells divine.
I take another whiff and silently curse because it’s the same cologne I smelled on my way to work this morning.
“Champ.” His deep voice cuts into me.
Why does he have the sexiest voice I’ve ever heard?
I don’t turn to glance at him. “Saint.”
“From where I’m standing, it looks like you had one hell of a night.”
Holding back a smile, I shake my head. Maybe if I play dumb, he’ll let it go. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The elevator dings, and before he can say anything in response, the doors slide open.
I step in and wait to turn around until I know he’s next to me.
I keep my gaze on the panel on the wall as I press the button for our floor.
“It looks like your date had tiny hands.” He leans closer, so his arm is brushing against my shoulder. “You know what they say about men with tiny hands.”
To punctuate that point, he holds up his hands in front of him, his large hands.
I shake my head. “I know what they say about men who assume things.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re calling me an ass,” he says. “Maybe I have it all wrong, and there’s another explanation for those blue handprints on your dress. Did that guy in the Smurf costume in Times Square get handsy with you?”
I finally turn my gaze so I can look up into his face. “What if he did?”
“I’ll kick his fucking ass.”
I can’t help but smile. “Keep your fists to yourself. My niece decided to use anything she could find as her canvas tonight when she was finger painting.”
He leans back and glances down as if he’s trying to steal another look at the back of my dress. “You should save the dress as is. The kid may have a future in art, and you could be wearing a goldmine.”
