Okay! And our relationship has just gotten on a new page.
I clear my throat and smile up at him. “After that, but before I rubbed one out. An hour ago to be precise.”
He chuckles and throws his head back.
It’s impossible not to smile. His baritone laugh is infectious.
“Hey,” I poke his chest playfully, “I didn’t make fun of you just now when you admitted to flogging the Slinky.”
“I only thought about doing it, but I love your honesty. It’s refreshing.”
Heat flushes my face. “Thank you. And I’m really sorry; I can’t be late or they’ll give my spot at the market to someone else.”
“You’re done with all that, Ginnie.”
Confused, I frown. “Am I now?”
“You hardly make enough to pay the fees. Also, you’re a millionaire.” A sly grin appears on his lips.
“Harhar. That’s not my money, and I have a mortgage to pay.”
“I’m going to change your mind about receiving gifts, but until then, I respect your wishes.” He bows his head of sexy, messy, dark-red hair. “In that case, I need to attend to a few things, but I’ll meet you at the market around four.”
“Why?” I ask.
“I have a new customer, and you’re going to assist me in delivering his wish tonight.”
“You’re giving out a wish to someone else?” I feign insult and press my hand over my heart. “I didn’t know genies were such wish sluts.”
He flashes the sweetest crooked smile. “I just can’t help myself. Sometimes I run off, wishing with perfect strangers. Two or three at a time.”
He’s too cute for words, which makes it impossible to believe Rebecca’s story. Still, there’s a part of me that does. Like I said, she has no reason to lie, and I have no reason to distrust her. All I know at this point is that I’m never going to find out the truth if I walk away. Being with him, really getting to know him is the only path forward.
“So does this mean you and I are going to deliver groceries to a handsy old lady, or will this be an oversized check, like the people in the Clearing House Sweepstakes?”
“Although Mrs. Liebowitz is one of my more entertaining customers, this will be much better.”
The day marches on slower than a snail drag race. Worst of all, I’m beginning to see that Marus is right about making money here at the market. Some days are a win, but half the time I barely break even after deducting stall fees. I hoped the warmer weather would bring bigger crowds to my booth, but today was booming, lots and lots of people shopping. Just not for crafts and art. The hothouse strawberries next door sold out in about an hour, though. I’m going to have to pick Marus’s brain, considering he’s a financial wizard.
Just before 4 p.m. it’s time to call it a day, so I begin packing up my wares and breaking down my tables.
“Hello,” says that voice I’ve been craving all day.
I look up and find Marus in his tailored suit and a deep purple tie. His shirt is black instead of the usual white. Me, I’m still in leggings and my long purple sweater. How cute. We kind of match. Except I’m basically wearing work-pajamas.
“You look nice,” I say, “and, might I add, very fancy.”
“Thank you. You look beautiful as always. Are you ready?”
Beautiful. No one ever calls me that, but I feel myself glowing from the inside out when he looks at me like he’s doing now. Intense, hungry, sexual.
“Where are we going?” I notice all the women around us in the other booths stopping to ogle Marus. I love that he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. His eyes are on me.
“We have a date with destiny.”
“In that case…” I take the long strip of bubble wrap in my hand and wrap it around my neck like a scarf. “Now I’m ready. I hope this is glamorous enough because I’ve never met destiny. What’s she look like?”
“Someone’s in a silly mood.” He flashes a warm smile with those sensual lips, making my heart beat even faster.
“I’ve been excited all day about giving away that wish tonight.” What I really mean is that I’ve been thinking about him since this morning, counting the hours.
“Well, let’s get going, then. Don’t want to be late, and you’ll be needing a dress.”
“Okay. Let me finish packing up. I can grab an outfit from home when I drop off my trailer.”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“No what?”
“No time for that.” He glances over his shoulder at two husky men in uniforms, approaching with dollies.
“Who are they?” I ask.
“Your helpers.” He holds out his hand. “Truck keys.”
“Wait. You brought someone to do all of my cleanup? I can’t let them wrap all this stuff. It’s fragile and—”
“They’re professional movers, Ginnie. And they do a lot of work for me. Your glass will be in good hands and delivered safe and sound to your home.” Still holding out his large hand, he repeats, “Keys?”