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Feeling loose after the low-key day, I don’t bother shaving or putting pomade in my hair. I like the feel of Juni’s fingers grazing across my scalp, and she only does it when it’s not perfectly in place.

I look in the mirror once more before I head out the door. I may not have done some of the things I’ve added into my routine since moving here, but I still want Juni to look at me the same as when I catch her ogling me with that hint of lust in her eyes.

The lobby is empty when I arrive five minutes early. I was taught never to keep a woman waiting, and the lesson has served me well. I was expecting to see Gil, but a guy I don’t recognize enters dressed in the doorman’s uniform. Jolly with red cheeks, he says, “You must be Mr. Christiansen. I’ve heard about you.”

“Hope it was all good.”

“It wasn’t all bad.”

Funny. I think I’m going to like this guy. We shake hands, and he says, “I’m Mike, the other doorman. I was out with a broken leg, slipped on the sidewalk after a late winter freeze.”

“Are you doing all right?”

“Good as new.” There’s a mobster quality to his accent and the raspy, smokes a lot of cigarettes a day tone and a hacking cough threading through his words don’t dispute the image. Leaning over like he’s going to tell me where Jimmy Hoffa is buried, he adds, “I also needed to get out of the house. I couldn’t take my girlfriend, Adrienne, doting all over me. I couldn’t watch a program on the big screen without her wanting to cuddle. It’s good to be out of the house again.” The back of his hand hits against my arm as he passes. “Know what I mean, Mr. Christiansen?”

Not at all, but I nod anyway. Once he’s seated and the chair stops squeaking, he asks, “What can I do for ya?”

“I’m actually waiting on . . .” The elevator doors open, drawing our attention. Black fitted pants stop just shy of her ankles, and the jewel-toned green top has thin straps that tie on her shoulders. The gold strappy heels bring her a lot closer to reaching my mouth, and she has a jacket draped over her arm. She looks spectacular, but it’s her hair and makeup that have my mouth hanging open. “Wow.”

Her hair is long and straight, all the colors from brown to blond are on display while a soft wave frames her face. The makeup is light, but those lips . . . those full red lips are going to have me fantasizing all night.

Before I can say anything to Juni, Mike is headed her way. “June, it’s good to see you.” I mentally note that he called her June. Barry the barista down at the coffee shop did that, and she never corrected him. I’m thinking the same has happened here.

She says, “Mike? I wasn’t expecting to see you. You’re back.” Rushing to him, they hug, and when she steps back, she looks down. “How’s the leg?”

“I survived.”

“You sure did.” Her eyes finally meet mine, and her smile lights up her expression. “Have you met Mr. Christiansen?”

My insides tighten like Pavlov’s dog to her calling me that. Work should be fun come Monday . . .

Mike whacks me on the back. “Yeah, we’re old friends now.”

“We sure are,” I reply, entertained by him but bitter that I missed the moment to appreciate her properly. “I bet Gil’s happy to have a night off.”

Moving toward the door, Mike says, “He wasn’t upset,” and then opens it. “Have a nice night.”

We can take a hint. I hold my hand out to Juni, and whisper for only her ears, “You look incredible.”

She reaches up and weaves her fingers through my hair just above my right ear. “I like your hair like this.” After a quick rub over the scruff on my face, she adds, “And this. You’re looking every bit California tonight, Drew, and I approve.”

“That’s why I did it.”

She takes my hand, and we hop in the car to go to dinner.

Together.

On a date.

Like a couple would.

I kiss her when we’re tucked in the back of the car. It’s not something I felt I could do in the lobby and has me now wondering what we should or shouldn’t be doing at all. My brother’s house is a safe place. I’m not worried about us going tonight. I worry about work on Monday and how we’ll separate the two parts of our lives.

“Drew?”

“Yeah?”

Still holding hands between us, she says, “Where’d you go off to?”