Page 50 of Enchanted to Meet You

Now, in addition to the floor-to-ceiling shelves where my dad had once kept all his nonfiction World War II books, and on which I now stored containers of all my best buttons, lace, elastic, ribbon, and thread, the room contained my sewing machine and a half dozen dressmaker’s dummies, each garbed in a nearly finished gown that I intended to deliver to its owner sometime this week.

“The sofa folds out into a bed,” I said, as Derrick stared skeptically into the chaotic sea of pale pinks, purples, and black sequins. “It’s really comfortable. I sleep on it when my parents come back to town to visit.”

“Thanks,” he said, looking dubious. “But the couch downstairs is fine—”

Ouch. I could see I’d made a strategic error by showing him this room first. But I hadn’t wanted to seem too eager.

“Or there’s my brother’s room.” I led him across the hall, Pye following at our heels, because Derrick was his new favorite person.

This was not only because I’d thrown him into a box to transport him home, but because I’d also locked his cat door so that he was now trapped inside for the night. Although I doubted the existence of the wolf, and trusted Pye to win in a battle with it if it turned out I was wrong, I wasn’t going to risk it.

I threw open the door to Ethan’s room. “My little brother’s in grad school overseas and doesn’t really have anywhere to store his old stuff, so I told him I’ll hold on to it until he lands somewhere permanently.”

Derrick glanced appraisingly at Ethan’s old soccer trophies and plaid wallpaper. “I’ll leave my things here,” he said, and slung his duffel bag down onto the single twin bed. “But I’ll still probably sleep on the couch downstairs. That way I can keep an eye on the doors.”

“I hardly think that’s necessary, but okay.” I was trying not to show how nervous I was that he was standing so near the door to the one room in the house I hadn’t shown him—my bedroom.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t entertained other male guests in there before. But none of them had ever carried me over my threshold because my knee hurt, or cured that hurt with his touch.

And he’d just announced he’d be sleeping on the couch.

Which was fine, just fine. I wasn’t at all stressed by that fact, or the fact that Dina kept texting, along with various fruit- and vegetable-shaped emojis:

LegalBeagle:Any action yet????

Why did I have such nosey friends?

“Well, I’m sure you’ll want to get washed up before dinner,” I said, showing him the Jack and Jill bathroom I’d battled over my whole life with my brother, and that, since I now owned it, I’d had renovated into a luxurious spa complete with a rainfall showerhead.

Derrick didn’t look the least impressed by my newly installed radiant floor heating or subway tile, however. He only said, “Thanks,” and disappeared into Ethan’s room, closing the door behind him.

Okay, then.

By the time he reappeared downstairs, I was in my best silk pajama set and kimono, having had my own quick shower in my parents’ old bathroom. I’d also set the dining table with theLimoges dinnerware my mother had left behind, lit the candles in the silver candlesticks my great-aunt Ruth had bequeathed me, put a Nina Simone record on my father’s vintage turntable, and reapplied my lip gloss half a dozen times.

When Derrick saw this, he looked stunned—though I wasn’t sure if it was because of my incredibly shiny lips or the romantic tablescape I’d created.

“What’s all this?” he asked.

“Dinner.” I made the same motion with my hand that Vanna White made when she turned over the letters onWheel of Fortune. I wasn’t sure if I was showing off the table or myself. Either way, Derrick looked impressed.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

“It wasn’t any trouble at all.” I always eat off of 24 karat gold-trimmed vintage plates from France that you have to wash by hand. “Did you find everything you needed up there?”

“I did, thanks.”

He certainly looked as if he had. He’d changed out of his black jeans and henley into... another pair of black jeans and henley. But these, just like the last, fit him like a glove.

“Would you like a cocktail?” I asked, in a huskier voice than I intended to. I cleared it. God, I sucked at seduction. “Wine? Beer?”

“What I’d really like is to get a look at your security system.”

“Security system?”

The expression on his face might have been a smile, if he ever smiled. “I know. Why would you have a security system? People in this town don’t bother locking their doors. But I thought I’d ask.”

“I told you, there’s no crime in West Harbor—except for the usual stuff in the summer, kids drinking on the beach and breaking into vacant homes. That kind of thing.”