I clear my throat. “My reasons are none of your business. I only want to find out if he’s a good person or if I have anything to be worried about.”
She narrows her eyes. “God, I can’t stand people like you. You faithless, tainted people, too embittered by the world to simply accept that sometimes good people do things to help others. No agenda. They just want to show kindness. But no!” She throws her hands in the air. “You need proof that he’s worthy of giving you a better life.”
“Well, when you put it like that…” It does make me sound a little jaded. “But what if I told you I’ve never met anyone like him? Maybe he’s the first person to do something kind for me ‘just because,’ and I’m asking all of this because I actually hope his kindness is real. I want to believe him.” More than she could possibly know.
“So you came all the way here because you want to know if he’s the real deal?” she summarizes with blatant irritation.
I nod.
“Yes. He’s the real deal. You have nothing to worry about. He genuinely wants to do something kind for you, which, if you’d given him a real wish, you would know by now.”
“But how did he become this—”
“Extremely generous, incredible man?” She shakes her head. “Listen, I really have to go, and I can’t answer any more questions. I made a promise to him, and I’m not about to break it for some—some gift-horse-mouth-looker.” She pauses. “That came out weird, but you get the gist.”
“I do.” I sigh. And, frankly, she’s right. No matter how much I want to believe that he’s some super-kind, wish-granting philanthropist, I can’t wrap my mind around any of it, including how he breaks into my house, leaves no trace, and knows when I tried to dispose of the bottle.
“Thank you for talking to me.” I stand.
“Just do him a favor and make your wish before you fuck him up even more than you already have.”
“What do you mean?”
“Never mind.” She scowls and points toward the back door.
“Good night.” Biting down on my lower lip, I leave feeling frustrated with more questions than before. Even worse, now she’s somehow managed to make me feel ashamed.
A gift-horse-mouth-looker. Is that what I really am? I don’t know, but maybe she’s right; I need to make my wish and move on. Because I might not know his name or why he’s running around granting million-dollar wishes to strangers, but one thing’s become abundantly clear: he’s the real deal and I’m getting way too caught up in all this. In him.
I have priorities. I have a business I’m trying to get off the ground. I have bills to pay and a life I’m trying to put back together. I don’t need some incredibly hot distraction.
Time to end this.
Chapter Fourteen
That night, I take the bottle and carefully remove the rolled-up piece of paper inside. I scribble out my old wish and write a new one below it. I place the bottle on the windowsill and then go to bed.
The entire evening I’m restless, dreaming of Mr. Wish. He and I are sitting at a tropical seaside restaurant, overlooking a calm turquoise bay. The Bahamas, I think. We’re surrounded by all of these happy people eating, laughing and sipping mango-tinis the size of my head. Directly behind me is that woman I met at the garage sale, the one who retired—compliments of Mr. Wish, I’m guessing. She’s Skyping with family and telling them all about her snorkeling lessons.
“Are you sure?” Mr. Wish asks me. “Is this really what you want?”
I nod and sip my banana daiquiri. Hey, it’s a dream. Okay? People change their cocktails in dreams.
“All right,” he says, his voice low and seductive. Suddenly he stands and starts loosening his tie. Then goes the jacket. With a hungry gaze I watch him unbuttoning his white dress shirt.
“Wow.” His six-pack ripples with baby oil under the rays of the hot tropical sun. I feel my body heat from the inside out. “I’m waiting.”
He seems to know exactly what I want because those pants disappear, and he’s standing before me naked. His cock is long and thick. The view sends an instant spike of throbbing heat between my legs.
I lick my lips.
“So, are you ready?” He arches one auburn brow.
I glance down, and I’m naked too. The ache between my legs intensifies. I can practically feel him inside me. I want it.
“Yes. I am.” I eye the tabletop. I want him to take me right there. I don’t even care if there are people all around us.
“Good. Because so am I.” He reaches for my hand and jerks me to my feet. Now I’m wearing a banana suit, and he’s wearing a horse costume with a giant papier-mâché horse head.