Page 15 of One Killer Night

I narrow my eyes, now even more smitten and humbled.

“Are you a serial killer?”

He shakes his head. “No, but I know someone who knew a guy.”

A burst of unladylike laughter explodes outward, immediately snuffed out because I bite my bottom lip.

Noah walks around the bike, setting his own helmet on his seat before he brings both his hands to my borrowed one.

“So, what do you think ... You wanna loiter with me?”

He unbuttons the strap and gives it a tug, freeing me, before bringing his hand back to brush the hoodie off my head. I must look a mess, but I don’t care because I have a crush.

A butterfly-inducing kind of crush that might make me write his name with little hearts in my journal as if I’m not thirty years old. Honestly, if I had a shirtless picture of him in poster size, I might be convinced to put it on my wall.

I giggle to myself over my silly girl thoughts before I sigh and answer him.

“I have conditions.”

He takes a step back, and my feet want to follow.

“Name ’em.”

How is he so cool with just two words?

“You have to promise to steal me the first bag of Skittles you see.”

He secures our helmets and smirks. “Taking candy from a baby ... I’m game. But you said ‘conditions,’ plural.”

A light breeze blows a strand of my hair over my lips, so I sweep it away as I walk toward him. Stopping in front to look up past the patterned tattoos and the chiseled jaw directly into his eyes, I uncharacteristically say the exact thought in my head.

“You’re right. It was plural ... It has to be unforgettable.”

He searches my eyes. “What does? Tonight or the theft?”

I shake my head. “The kiss you give me at the end.”

Without a thought or an answer, Noah grins and takes my hand, leading me around the barricade into our very first date. And I swear I’m already hoping it won’t be the last.

Half an hour later, we’ve been weaving our way around, talking about everything and nothing. Mostly how we share a side-eye attitude toward Halloween.

He shifts his body to avoid some little kid dressed as Chucky.

“Like I said, I’m here for fall, but all the gory stuff isn’t for me. Everyone wants to pretend to be a killer. Real life is scary enough.”

I pop the last of my Skittles into my mouth.

“Agreed, but like, a little witchy vibe is fun sometimes. I’ll rock out to somePractical Magic, but I’m calling it with anything truly scary. I’m too fragile.”

“Oh, I believe you.”

He smiles, dramatically wincing as he touches his shoulder because a few houses back, as a giant skeleton came to life, I nearly climbed him like a tree.

“Whatever,” I grumble as he winks. “That thing was horrifying.”

I’m suddenly hit with a shiver since I’m not exactly dressed for the weather.

“Here,” he offers, shrugging off his jacket.