I nod. I lift my sleeve a little more, hoping that she’ll stop drawing that little circle on my forearm. Yet I secretly hope she won’t stop. In fact, I want her to open her hand and press it to my skin. I want to keep it there. I blow out a breath, and she’s so close to me that her hair raises.

“Nice ink,” she says. I nod and pull my sleeve down. She grins. “Do you want to see mine?”

She pulls back the sleeve of her sweatshirt and turns her wrist up. She has a small infinity circle on her inner wrist. It’s dainty and girly and fits her.

“Infinite love and gratitude,” she says. She draws out the G hidden in the middle of the tattoo with the tip of her finger so I can see it. The end of the infinity symbol is shaped like a heart.

“Infinite love and gratitude,” I repeat. This woman chokes me up every f**king time. “What are you grateful for?” I look into her green eyes.

She heaves a sigh. “A better question would be what am I not grateful for today.” She starts to clean up her work area. “I’m grateful I woke up today.” She grins. “Well, yesterday.”

“What else?” I ask. I hitch my hip on the edge of her table.

She turns around and lifts the hair from the back of her neck. “I have another one here,” she says. She smiles at me from over her shoulder.

“Another tat?” I ask. I wanted to know what else she was grateful for.

She nods, and I walk closer. I brush the tendrils of hair from the nape of her neck. She shivers lightly, but she’s still smiling.

“A butterfly,” I say. “That’s original.”

“I was eighteen,” she complains. But she’s grinning, so I know she’s not mad.

“A rebellion thing?” I ask.

She nods, and her face flushes. “I got in so much trouble,” she says. Then she blows out a playful breath. “I thought my dad was going to kill me.”

“Do you have any more?” I ask.

Her face flushes. She does.

“Where?” I ask.

“Other places,” she mutters. She suddenly is really interested in cleaning her workspace.

“Like where?” I tease. My heart feels lighter right now than it has in a really long time. I’m not sure I like it.

“If you must know, I have one on my butt.”

She turns away from me, and all I can do is look at her ass. She does fill out her jeans nicely, but I’m dying to see that tattoo. “Can I see that one?” I ask. A grin tugs at my lips. It’s such a foreign feeling that I don’t know what to do with it. It falls from my lips.

She snorts. “You get many girls out of their pants with that line?” she asks. She pours another cup of coffee for me when she sees me tip my cup up to drink the last drop.

“Thanks,” I say. I look into her green eyes. “There haven’t been any girls in a long time,” I say. I motion toward my leg. “It took me a while to learn to use this thing.”

“You done learning how to use it yet?” she asks. She smirks at me over the rim of her mug.

I nod. “As done as I’m going to get.” I let my gaze roam up and down her body, and she glares at me and crosses her arms under her br**sts. “Sorry,” I murmur. “I can’t help it if you’re f**king beautiful.”

She grins and blushes and it makes her even prettier. I’m doomed. Fucking doomed.

“I guess I should let you get back to work,” I say. “Or to bed. Or whatever it is you do during the day.” I look toward the door. “Do you know what time the street vendors start selling hot chestnuts and hot chocolate?”

Her brow rises. “You eat chestnuts and hot chocolate for breakfast?”

“It’s on my list.” I pull it from my pocket and look down at it. My bucket list is pretty silly now that I think about it. I should probably just go to the hotel and sleep.

She leans over to look at my list. “What else is on it?” Her eyes open wide and she says, “A Broadway play? On New Year’s Eve?”

I nod.

“Can I go?” she whispers. She grabs my arm and looks into my eyes. “Take me with you?”

Faith

I can’t believe I asked him that. I want to bite the words back, but they’re already out there. The look on his face is painful in its intensity. He lifts a brow, trying to act like I haven’t scared him, but I think I did. “You want to go see a Broadway play? With me?”

I nod, biting my lower lip between my teeth. His gaze rakes across my mouth, lingering there, and he presses his lips together. “I’ve always wanted to go.” I shrug. I’m embarrassed.

“My mother used to take me every year. We would walk around the city and eat hot chestnuts, drink chocolate, and do all the things on my list on New Year’s Eve.” He shrugs, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “I don’t even know what’s playing tonight.”

“Cinderella,” I breathe. “Rodgers and Hammerstein’s.” I sometimes feel like Cinderella. I take care of everyone else, but no one takes care of me. Not anymore. Granddad is busy with Nan, and Nan is too ill to do much more than exist. My parents think I’m invincible, but I need things too. I just don’t want anyone to know it. I wave a breezy hand in the air. “You know what?” I say. “Never mind. It was a silly impulse.”

“Do you need to go and get your purse?” he says. He grins, though, and he has color on his cheeks for the first time since I met him.