scrubbed it clean with her bare hand, rinsed it, then wiped it dry with the good paper towels bought expressly for this purpose.
All the while, her mind raced. What could he mean, she’d had the solution all her life? Part of her buzzed with anticipation to hear his theory, while the rest of her silently grumbled at the idea of having this stranger—totally new to the entire legend—come with a solution she’d never conceived.
Dini washed her hands thoroughly, using three pumps of the foamy, lemon-scented soap and scrubbing up past her wrists, wanting to rid herself of the slick feel and savory scent of the sausage and eggs. She rinsed, smelled, and, satisfied, went into the living room, dropping the tea towel on the back of the chair while ordering, “Alexa. Volume down.”
Quin was sitting on her couch, looking entirely at home. Not lounging, exactly, but not perched, either. He had one leg crossed casually over the other, his coffee cup resting on his knee. Dini had a choice: the vintage-print accent chair on the other side of the coffee table or the sofa beside him. She stood, never before so indecisive about where to sit in her own home, and then she noticed her mug sitting on an animal-print coaster. He took a sip and set his mug right next to it. He might as well have patted the cushion beside him.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he said as she settled in, a good half a cushion between them. “I went ahead and took the tour.”
“Did you? Without a guide? How brave.”
“I absolutely don’t want you to take this in any kind of a wrong way, but your house is adorable.”
She laughed. “Why would I take that the wrong way?”
“I don’t know if it’s a thing to call a person’s house ‘cute.’ But it is. It’s cute.”
“That’s Realtor talk for small. Which it is. So …”
“Just one question. What do you have locked up in that room? Do you have a secret first husband that went mad after you brought him here from Barbados? Is there a crazy Bernie locked up in there?”
She swatted him with a llama-embossed throw pillow. “No. That’s where I keep all of my stage stuff. Costumes and trunks and—everything. All the tricks of the trade. I keep a combo lock on it for whenever I AirBnb the house. It means I can only rent it out as a single bedroom, but that’s okay. It means no kids, right?”
“Do you rent it out a lot?”
“Not really. Sometimes I’ll take a gig out of town, and I’ll just hang out and explore for a week or so. If the Spurs make the playoffs? Or like at Christmastime? I can make a few bucks. And then, I’ve worked a few cruises, so I’m gone for months at a time there. Arya takes care of the business end of it.”
“Back up.” He leaned in closer. “Cruises? Like Love Boat?”
She clutched the llama pillow in front of her, both to defend herself and to create a barrier to remind her not to launch across the distance between them. “Yes, Quin. Exactly like Love Boat.”
“Did you—did you mend marriages through magic? Ever help a guy out by pulling an engagement ring out of your hat so he could propose in Puerto Vallarta?”
“Oh my gosh. How do you know so much about Love Boat?”
He shrugged, uncrossed his leg, and turned his body fully toward her. “I dated a girl who was obsessed with classic TV.”
“Tell me, Quin Carmichael. How many of your stories begin with ‘I dated a girl…’?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Dini Houdini. How many of your stories begin with, ‘That summer I traveled with the carnies’?”
“I only spent two summers with carnies.” This was true. “And they are lovely people.” This, unfortunately, was not.
They’d been inching closer to each other throughout the banter. In a single move, Quin grabbed the llama pillow, tossed it behind her, and closed the gap, wrapping his arm around her waist, sending his glasses clattering to the table, and bringing her into a kiss that both took her by surprise and made her think, Finally.
Her sweater was bulky and she wore her cami beneath it, but the combined powers of both garments could not camouflage the feel of his hand splayed across her back. She felt the pressure of all five fingers plus his palm, while his other hand wound itself in her curls, holding her face close to his, as if she would