She thinks for a second. “Honestly, I’m so busy with work that I don’t have a lot of free time. But I like reading, hiking, trying out new restaurants, and . . . rollercoasters.”
I laugh. “Rollercoasters?”
She shrugs. “It’s left over from my childhood. My dad loved amusement parks, so we’d visit them whenever we’d take road trips. He’d research the coasters beforehand and tell us all about them on the way.”
I pull out my phone. “Okay, give me a couple of minutes. One epic birthday celebration, coming up.”
Her eyebrows knit. “Wait. Um, that’s really kind of you, but we just met. I don’t know if I can . . .” She pauses.
“Trust me?” I ask.
She nods. I lay my palm over my heart. “My lady, I swear to you on this twenty-first day of June that I will be totally devoted to your safety, comfort, and happiness tonight and from this day forward, now and forever.” I pause. She’s smiling but doesn’t look convinced. “And I promise we’ll stay in public places all night. Sound all right?”
She stares at me like she can’t quite believe I’m real. “Are you . . . always like this?”
“With women?” I finish her question with a grin. “Never.”
“Then . . . why me?”
I breathe, long and deep, letting the certainty of my feelings fill my words with sincerity.
“Because sometimes you just know.”
Chapter Four
“Although I joy in thee,
I have no joy of this contract to-night:
It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden;
Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be.”
- Romeo and Juliet (Act 2, Scene 2)
Kathleen
I can’t believe I’m doing this. Here I am at CatFest, finally, something I’ve been anticipating for months. And instead of going to the meet up with fans like Viv and Jess, I’m getting ready to spend an evening alone with a perfectly strange man.
Emphasis on perfect.
Thinking about Joe sends my blood racing through my veins, as I hurry to my room to grab my purse . . . and the small container of pepper spray I keep in there. Just in case. Going on a date with a stranger is nowhere near normal for me. But nothing about Joe, or this evening, is normal.
Joe is gorgeous, charming, and very sweet. He’s tall enough to match my height, tan from the Florida sun—unusual for a redhead—and he has a faint sexy Southern accent. He’s also incredibly intense. I’m . . . captivated.
When I get to the room, James is asleep in his underwear on top of his covers with the TV still on and Juliet curled on the pillow beside his head. I try to be extra quiet, but he wakes up.
“What are you doing?” he asks as I tiptoe past to the chair where I hung my purse.
“Going out.”
“Out? Where?” He sits up.
I hesitate. “I . . . don’t know.”
“You don’t know where you’re going?”
I don’t want to tell James my plans, but in case Joe turns out to be an ax murderer, I probably should. “All right, look. I’m going out with a man I met in the lounge. I don’t know when we’ll be back.” I cringe at how that sounds.
“What? Are you stupid? He could be a serial killer.”
“I know, but . . . Joe won’t hurt me.”
“You just met the guy. How do you know that?”
I shrug. “I feel it, I guess.”
“Says every murder victim, ever, of guys they just met.” My brother shakes his head. “Your funeral, I guess. I hope you have a will and you left all your money to me.”
I roll my eyes. “Like that will last long. But if I am murdered, you’ll take care of Juliet, right?”
She nudges his hand, and he scratches her in her favorite place under her neck. “Of course, I would. What’s this Joe guy’s last name? So, I can tell the police when you never come back.”
I shift my feet uncomfortably. “I’m not sure. I’ll ask him for ID when I get downstairs and text you a picture. Is that good enough?”
He shrugs. “How would I know? He might be carrying fake identification. Some serial killers do that. I saw it on Forensic Files.”
“You watch too much television, James. You should get out more.”
“Then who would take care of Juliet?”
I sigh. Good point. Sort of. She’s a cat, she can take care of herself. But I work so much, I’m happy she has James to keep her company.
“All right, well, I’m going,” I say.
“Good luck. Hope you come back alive.”
“Thanks for the concern, James.”
Anticipation burns my skin as I rush back to the lobby where I’d told Joe I’d meet him. Part of me worries he won’t be there. That he’s changed his mind, or that I invented him and this surprise pre-birthday date in some feverish, romance-starved part of my brain.
But then there he is in all his auburn glory. He was wearing shorts and a golf type shirt before, but he’s changed into dark jeans and a neatly pressed sky-blue collared shirt. I can’t help beaming as I walk toward him.
“My lady, your carriage awaits,” he says.
He holds out his hand for me to take and leads me outside where a bearded guy wearing a brewery T-shirt and a bandana tied around his forehead sits on a pedicab. It’s a bike with a carriage, of sorts, attached. Joe helps me onto the double seat with a back and wheels and then sits beside me. Reggae music plays from a speaker strapped to the back of the bike seat.
“Where to?” the driver asks with a booming voice.
“Forest Room 5, please,” Joe answers.
“You got it.” The guy starts pedaling and we settle in.
“What’s Forest Room 5?” I ask Joe.
“A new-to-you restaurant.”
I raise an eyebrow. “How do you know? I only live a few hours away. I could have gone there before.”
He chuckles. “Okay, it was a guess. The restaurant has only been open for a month, but it’s getting great early reviews. So, dinner. Followed by a couple of surprises.”
I lean back and mute my slightly panicked interior voice. I don’t know what I’m doing. I only know I haven’t been swept off my feet in years, and darn it, I’m letting Joe sweep.
But I hope the surprises don’t involve sharp objects. Which reminds me.
“Can I, um, see some ID?” I ask.
He raises an eyebrow.
“I told James I’d send him your name and some form of identification in case . . .” I can’t finish the sentence.
“In case I turn out to be less than a total gentleman?” Joe asks.
“Or more specifically an axe murderer,” I say.
He reaches into his back pocket and slides out his wallet and then his ID. He hands it to me. Joe Davis, 201 Sunset Drive, #378, Tampa, Florida. He somehow manages to look as handsome in his driver’s license photo as he does in person. I snap a picture and text it to James.
“What’s Florida like?” I ask Joe. “I haven’t been there.”
He slides an arm behind my head but doesn’t touch me. Unfortunately.