I nod as respectfully as I can, trying to put the proper assurances in the gesture. I want her to see what I feel—that the ground beneath Ariel and me is shifting. That things aren’t what they seem.
That maybe men like me—or at least one man like me—might just figure out what to do with a happy ending after all.
“I hear you, Ms. Ward,” I tell her. “Loud and clear.”
We’ve been circling the block for damn near a half hour as Ariel’s frown deepens and she counts the addresses again. “79… 81… 83… Oh, there it is!”
I growl in irritation. “Right. 85. Between 83 and 87. Who could’ve possibly known that’s where it would be?”
“Oh, don’t be a grump,” she scolds, swatting my forearm. “Tonight’s gonna be fun.”
“Still keeping it a secret?”
“Until the last possible second,” she confirms.
I park
