“You came!” He took my hand and led me inside. The genuine surprise in his voice almost made me sad; obviously he hadn’t thought me showing up was a sure thing. Dex had never thought I wouldn’t show up. Or maybe he just hadn’t cared.

“Of course I did.” He didn’t need to know how long I’d dithered at my place. I could just let him think that it always took me this long to shower and throw on glorified pajamas and minimal makeup.

He bent to kiss my cheek, his lips skimming over my skin, and I turned my head, catching his mouth with mine and turning it into a real kiss. He accepted it with a sigh, and his hand tightened around mine for a split second before letting go, dropping to rest at my waist. I let him pull me into him, enjoying the way we seemed to fit well together despite our height difference. My heart swelled, and suddenly I couldn’t recall why I’d been so unsure about all this. Sure, we needed to get used to each other, but Daniel and I had more in common than Dex and I ever had. Even if Daniel was after a quick hookup as Dex had been, a month with this guy would be so much better than any relationship I’d had lately. What was so bad about that?

Besides, his mouth was warm on mine, his lips soft. I’d never had a more comfortable kiss, and I wanted to stay there forever. But my stomach growled, and I broke off with an awkward laugh and pressed a hand to my belly. “Sorry, I forgot to . . .” I trailed off as I realized that his room smelled delicious. For the first time, I looked past him into the hotel room. The television was on, the sound muted, and the table by the window was covered in Chinese takeout cartons.

“Forgot to eat dinner? Good.” He nodded toward the table.

I wandered over to the buffet he had set out. Lo mein, deep-fried something with neon-red sweet-and-sour sauce, a whole carton full of egg rolls, another of dumplings, and pepper steak swimming in brown sauce. “I mean, I’m hungry, but I don’t know if I can eat all this.”

“I’d be impressed as hell if you did. But don’t worry. I know a few guys down the hall who’ll finish all this in a heartbeat.”

“Oh?” I raised my eyebrows. “Are we having company?”

“Nope.” His hand went back to my waist, a small show of possessiveness that I didn’t mind a bit. “They can have leftovers tomorrow morning. That’s what the mini-fridge is for.”

“Breakfast of champions.” I glanced up at him, and the humor that danced in his eyes was an echo of my smile.

“Exactly,” he said. “These guys are not picky. Now, come on, grab something to eat. They were just about to renovate the bathroom when you got here.” He nodded toward the television.

“What?” My gaze flew to the muted television, which was tuned to one of those endlessly similar cable shows about people renovating houses. “Oh my God, I love these shows.”

Daniel nodded. “I remember.”

“You . . . remember?” My brow furrowed. He sounded so certain, as if it was something we did all the time that had become a familiar routine. Takeout Chinese and . . .

Then memory sparked, and a slow smile spread over my face. “You remember.” It had been a throwaway email one night, when the hour was so late I’d forgotten what I’d typed until he replied to it. But I’d confessed one of my favorite guilty pleasures. Takeout Chinese and home renovation shows on cable. Something about lo mein going great with schadenfreude.

“Of course I do,” he said. “I remember all of it.” He shrugged. “But you weren’t specific as to what kind of Chinese food you liked.”

“So you got all of it.”

He chuckled. “Something like that.”

This night wasn’t turning out at all like I’d expected, and I couldn’t have been happier about it. When I’d come to this hotel to spend the night with Dex, there had been little conversation. Acrobatic sex, sure. But no real conversation. Now, Daniel and I propped ourselves up with pillows in his bed, our legs stretched out in front of us, passing the lo mein and dumpling cartons back and forth, digging into them with chopsticks while we heckled the married couple with more money than sense on the television.

“Really?” I yelled. “You have a quarter of a million dollars to renovate a Philadelphia row house, and that’s the cheap garbage tile you pick for the bathroom?”

“They have to make up for the money they spent replacing those hardwood floors somehow.” Daniel crunched into an eggroll.

I tsked and shook my head. “They could have refinished the original ones for half that, easily.”

“Oh, yeah?” He bumped my shoulder with his. “Refinish a lot of floors, do you?”

“I watch a lot of TV where other people refinish a lot of floors. I think that makes me an expert.”

He considered that. “Close enough. I’ll accept that.”

I slurped up one more bite of noodles while the couple on the screen bickered about the color of the shower tile. Their marriage wasn’t going to last beyond the renovation of that house. “I wonder what it’s like,” I finally said.

“I think the green would have looked better, but that’s not the hill I want to die on.”

“No . . .” I passed the lo mein carton to him. “I mean having a space like that. My place would fit in their kitchen, you know? I watch shows like this and wonder what it would be like to live that kind of life. Where you have an amazing space like that, and the money to make it exactly what you want.”

On the television, the show segued into one about an even richer, even more nonsensical couple trying to decide which private island they wanted to buy. “I don’t know,” I said. “It seems like a lot of work. A lot of responsibility.”

“The island? Definitely.”

“Any of it.” I shrugged.

“Hmm.” Daniel leaned to the side, placing the empty lo mein carton on the nightstand. “No idea,” he finally said. “I mean there’s the RV, but we rotate who sleeps there, so it’s not really mine. The biggest space I’ve ever had that’s all mine is my pickup truck. It’s nice and all, but it’s mostly decorated in last month’s fast-food wrappers.”

I snickered at that, but looked at him thoughtfully as I finished off the last dumpling. “Yeah, you’re not exactly a putting-down-roots kind of guy, are you?”

“Not really.” He leaned back on his pillows, and I watched the flicker of the television screen in his eyes. “We’re here for the next month, and that’s probably the closest thing I have to putting down roots these days.”

Right. He’d only be here for four weeks while the Kilts performed at Faire. But that month stretched before the two of us like a deserted highway, long and winding. Plenty of time. Why think about it right now? That was in the future. For now he was here, and that was all that mattered.

“How does that work exactly?” I echoed his position, reclining on my side of his bed, my shoulders and head cushioned on my pillows but turned toward him. “I helped organize stuff this year, and I know we only cover the hotel for the weekends y’all perform for us.”

“True.” He nodded against the pillows at his head. “We pay for the rooms during the week. This is a great central location, near DC and northern Virginia, so I’m able to book the guys into bars for shows at least two nights each week.” He shrugged. “It’s kind of like downtime, before we do the Maryland one. They can rehearse, I can get paperwork done.”

“Sounds glamorous.”

He snorted. “Oh, yeah. You have no idea.”

The private island purchase wasn’t going well for our friends on the reality show. One island was perfect, but the mansion on it needed work. Another island was substandard, as private islands went, but the house was perfect. As for me, I was full of food and contentment, slowly growing sleepy as the mega-rich couple prepared to spend more money than I’d ever make in my lifetime. Before long I’d moved closer to Daniel, seeking out his warmth, and dozed a little with my head on his shoulder. His arm went around me, his fingertips stroking slowly up and down my upper arm. There was no expectation of anything physical. He hadn’t even kissed me since I’d first arrived.

It was the best date I’d been on in years.

* * *

  • • •

  The next morning, while I was bustling around getting ready for day two of Faire, my phone buzzed from where it was charging on my kitchen counter. I nudged Benedick away from my cream cheese–covered bagel on the way to my phone.

“Not yours,” I chided. But my annoyance at the cat trying to steal my breakfast faded as I picked up my phone.

Good morning! Thanks for coming over last night.

I licked cream cheese off my thumb before typing a response. Feed me lo mein and I’m yours forever.

Is that all it takes? Score.

I grinned around another sip of coffee. Just leave the sweet-and-sour where it belongs next time. In the trash.

That got me a couple laughing emojis in response. Well, the guys appreciated it when they got back from the bars, so I got to be a provider for everyone last night.