“No?”
“No. The one at the garage sale belonged to Mrs. Hays. She was supposed to return it to the place she found it, five towns over. She got lazy, I guess. That’s why I was there—to retrieve it.”
“So you have different bottles at different locations?”
“One location at a time. We move it around. Otherwise, people might tell their friends, and it’s not very random if people know where to look.”
“You are so sneaky!” I clap.
“Thank you. But it was still fate that you found my bottles twice.”
“I’ll take fate over the theory that a demonic piece of glass is following me around and knows my thoughts.” I turn and face him. “You can’t read thoughts, can you?”
“I’m not giving away the secrets of my superpowers.” He grins.
I chuckle. Mostly because I know I’ll eventually get it out of him. My theory is that he is exceptionally smart and has the ability to read people—their motives, their body language, and emotions. He also does his homework on his “clients.” It’s like those mentalists who know everything about you before you come to their show. They get your name, credit info, and home address when you buy your ticket. From that they can look you up on Facebook or surf the internet for facts. And it’s not so hard to find you when you’re at the show since there’s assigned seating.
“So what’s the problem with this Rachel lady?” I ask.
“She’s an ice-skater. Her wish falls into one of those gray areas that may or may not affect other people’s lives.”
“How? It’s the Olympics—just her and the ice.”
“Not if she’s crap and getting in means she bumps another qualified skater.”
Oh. I get it. “So you can only grant her wish if it’s something she would get anyway? I hardly call that a wish.”
“Exactly. If she’s capable of getting in, then she doesn’t need my help. If she’s on the cusp, then what she needs is the world’s best trainer—I can help with that. If she doesn’t have a chance and never will, then I need to reject her request.”
“So if you can’t give her what she wants, do you give her another chance, like you did with me?”
“No.”
“Why not?” I ask.
“Because you’re special. And you didn’t want anything from me. You just wanted me.” He flashes a charming smile, making me feel all tingly inside.
“And?”
“And maybe I wanted you back,” he replies.
I’m suddenly wrapped in a warm, gooey center of falling-in-love bliss. “I can live with that.”
“Good. Because we’re here,” he says.
It’s a soccer field at the edge of an elementary school.
“Well, this looks interesting,” I say.
“These are the best kinds of customers.”
“How do you know?”
“Have you ever met a kindergartner teacher who’s in it for the money?”
“What? What! Ohmygod! I thought the bottle was a joke!” The thin brunette bounces on her heels as the army of children behind her look on with interest. “You’re kidding!”
I stand behind Marus while he tells the teacher that she has been given fifty laptops with free tech support, five years’ worth of supplies, and enough money to fund their art program for the next decade.
Being a former art teacher, I swoon hard. I loooove that he’s done this for these kids.
“I thought you said wishes can’t impact others,” I lean in and whisper in his ear.
“I’m allowed to make exceptions. I’m the boss, remember?” He stands proudly with a smirk.
“I think I love you,” I whisper, but he doesn’t hear because the woman starts to cry. Then she falls to his feet.
The children crowd around her just as the principal, a woman in her sixties, shows up. “What’s going on? Who are you?”
“Me?” Marus says. “I was just passing by, taking a stroll with my wife.” He takes my hand. “We heard a commotion and came running.”
He gives my hand a squeeze. A cue. “Oh! Yeah. We were just out walking over by that field and we heard ‘Ahhhhh!’ Hope she’ll be okay.”
The woman starts rambling excitedly to the confused principal.
“We should go,” Marus whispers and tugs my hand. We casually stroll off.
Once we reach the safety of the parking lot and climb into his Audi, I let go. “Wow! That was so much fun!”
He grins. “I know.”
“And this is what you do every day?”
“Not every day, but essentially yes.”
I beam at him. I entirely get why his sister is afraid of losing him. This version, anyway. “Again. Again!” I clap.
“I hoped you might say that. How do you feel about puppies?”
Puppies? “Dear God, I could just fuck you right now.”
His smile melts away. “You’re being a distraction, Ginnie. This is work. Not time for play.”
My face flushes red. “Sorry. I know you take your work seriously.”
He laughs and cranks the engine, which hums to life.
I slap his shoulder. “That was mean.”
“But the look on your face was hilarious.” He turns in my direction and presses his hand to my cheek. “I don’t ask for much these days. I’m not worthy of wishes. But if I could have one, it sure as hell would be to fuck you. Anywhere. Anytime.”