She swiveled on the step so she faced him instead of the street. “The point is we’d be a vacation romance.”
“And if it was good, what’s wrong with that?”
“That’s my problem. I can’t decide if we’re an experimental romance or more.”
“And it’s important to you to know that before you come upstairs?”
“I think so. I thought I was okay about a one-night stand with you. I’d like to be built that way, but I’m not.”
“And?”
“And you are.”
“I was. Ask me why that’s changed?”
“I’m not asking you because I’m not judging you. I’m a small-town girl, I’m not a prude.”
“I don’t want a one-night thing with you, Derelie. I already know too much about you to think one night is going to be enough. I can’t promise the whole annual calendar, but I know I want to be with you till we run this thing out.”
Oh, man. That’s what she’d needed to hear. “I wrecked the mood.” She’d been so sure what she wanted with Jack and all it took was a reminder that he’d had a full life before she came along to make her wobbly.
“Blame Martha.”
They should’ve gone straight from question whatever to bed. Do not pass go. Do not let the cat out. “My bag is upstairs.” That made leaving more awkward.
“No, it’s behind us. I didn’t want you to feel pressured.”
She turned to look and at the top of the landing was her gym bag. He’d made it easy for her to choose.
“Whatever you want to do, Derelie.”
She wanted him to keep saying her name, the joy of hearing it instead of Honeywell hadn’t yet gotten old. Who was she kidding, the stack of cards was a shock; the reason he kept them was worse. They hadn’t talked about this. The experiment was defective if it didn’t uncover threats to someone’s life.
“You’d be the first person I’ve slept with who’s had death threats.”
“Please don’t make it your special thing to hunt down others.”
“How scary was it?”
“I was glad I already knew how to defend myself. I’ve been attacked in the street. I was shot in the thigh with a dart gun outside the office once.” He rubbed a place on his leg. “That hurt. And it ruined a good suit.”
Good Lord. “I knew you’d had death threats because it’s something everyone at the Courier knows about you, but I never thought about the practicalities.” It seemed like an abstract thing, like a car accident, a robbery, something terrible that happened to somebody else. “You got shot.”
“Dart gun.”
“But it could’ve been—”
“But it wasn’t. The more we rely on social media, the more threats of harm and exposure are tossed around. I’ve been doxxed. I’ve been the subject of rumor campaigns. It goes with the dinkus. It’s the part of being famous I could do without.”
“I understand that better now.” Threatened. Attacked. Shot. People came up to Jack on the street and online with the intention of hurting him. “But you didn’t quit.”
“They win if I quit. I keep logs and records of everything because you don’t know what could turn out to be important. It’s such a habit I don’t even think about it.”
“Did they get the person who shot you?”
“No. It was crowded, peak hour. No clear suspect.”
“You took something from that woman in the market.”