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I could have sworn I felt butterflies right down between my legs.
"Not for all my neighbors," I murmured shyly, "only the special ones."
He turned to look at me, his smile wider. He was wearing a simple gray shirt and a pair of trousers.
Every inch of him was all muscle, but not the kind that'd make you run thinking, "He's living on steroids."
No, this was all discipline and hard work. The man had the look of someone who's surer about life than a whole darn city.
It made me feel curiously out of depth and visible at the same time. I wanted to reach out and touch those muscles.
His hair, a thick, rich brown, looked like it could do with some ruffling up. How would it feel if I touched it? Soft? Rugged?
I had no idea how long I was staring at him before he laughed. "Juniper? Where did you go off to?"
I jolted back to life and began stammering. "Sorry, I kinda lose it sometimes. And you can call me Junie."
"Junie."
He spoke my name like gently blowing upon a dandelion in a summer field.
"I like that a lot better."
I watched him cut a slice of the pie, take a mouthful, and let out a grunt that sounded most unlike him. That made me laugh.
Good to know there was something human about this darned Greek god.
"It's criminal!" He moaned, taking another bite.
"What is?"
"To make food that tastes this amazing! One of my favorite shows had a line that said something about arresting the cook fora salt and buttery."
That made my smile grow deeper. "You... you watchedHaunting of Bly Manor?"
He regarded me with a curious expression—like he'd just found something entirely unexpected, but not in an unpleasant way.
"AndHill House. Hell, I read the book too. Can't help it when characters come together in fear and love, the most basic of human emotions. Makes for great stuff."
I nodded, letting the words sink in. This man watched two of my favorite shows and had also read a book I went to bed with on more nights than one.
"Bly Manor was all about love." I sat down. "I almost waited for something to jump out and break my heart, but you know, sometimes, you just get a show that's so beautifully predictive of how we humans see relationships, and it just sticks forever."
Reed sat down beside me, a thoughtful expression on his face as he chewed. "I like the way you think. What else do you like to watch? Have you seenBreaking Bad?"
I shook my head. "I'd love to see it someday, but I don't wanna do it alone."
His eyes lit up. "Oh my gosh, to be seeingBreaking Badfor the first time! I almost envy you. Ma'am, you're watching it. And I'm gonna be your partner."
It was just the way he said it, the way his tongue rolled over "partner" like it was the perfect bite of sweet and savory—I could have sworn my heart skipped a beat.
I cleared my throat, trying not to make an obvious fool out of myself. He had to be seeing how smitten I was.
"So, Reed, you told me you were investigating Harold Montgomery's case." I changed the topic entirely.
I did this whenever I needed to deflect or focus on topics that wouldn't bring out all my vulnerabilities, like peeling skin after a particularly ruthless day at the beach.
"Did you find anything interesting about the man?"
