Page 9 of Brooklyn Cupid

“Cheaper than doing Airbnb,” Jace reasons with a shy smile, the same as last night when he came back to ask about the room. He didn’t mind the cash arrangement or an extra month’s deposit. “And I’ll be in and out of the city for the next several months. Here.”

He pulls a bank envelope with cash out of his pocket and hands it to me.

“Wow. That’s quick,” I say, staring at it. “Well…” I guess there’s no backing away from this. “Thank you,” I say at the same time he says, “Thank you.”

We both stifle a chuckle, and Jace wipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb, hiding his smile.

“You didn’t even hear the rules yet,” I say, feeling unusually at ease.

“I’m good with rules.”

“Yeah?” I meet his gaze, and holy hell, his smiling eyes are brighter, sparklier, and lock with mine a little longer.

“No parties,” I say.

“I don’t party.”

“Unless you run it by me, that is,” I correct, trying not to sound like a bitch. “No smoking inside. I don’t like smoke.”

“I quit,” he responds right away as his smile grows a little.

“Please, leave your shoes at the door. I don’t have a cleaning lady. And, well, cleaning is part of living here.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nods, his smile widening.

Yes, ma’am, huh?

It makes me smile too, and for a moment, we just gaze at each other, and I forget that we met only the night before. He feels so… familiar. Like we’ve been friends for a while. The unease I felt when I opened the door to him just minutes ago is gone.

He’s quiet and polite and seems trustworthy. At least those black-rimmed glasses do. So does the polite way he talks, almost apologetically, like he’s intruding.

“Pardon the mess,” I say, noticing him glance around. “I’ll clean up and move the easel and the canvases to my room. I’m getting ready for a solo exhibit, so…”

“No worries. I’m not fussy,” he reassures me. “Need help? Looks heavy.” He nods toward the easel. “Looks like a dozen artists are working here.”

I chuckle. “No, just me. So, when are you ready to move in?”

He shrugs. “Today?”

I laugh, then quiet as I realize he’s not joking and notice the blush coloring his cheeks.

“Sure,” I say, stifling an amused chuckle. “That works. But don’t you need to bring stuff? The room is fully furnished, but—”

“I just have my clothes. I’ll be fine. If that’s alright with you.” He looks down at his feet as he says the last words like he’s uncomfortable.

“Absolutely. Phew, this was easier than I thought.”

He raises his smiling eyes to me again. “Whatdidyou think?”

I shrug.

“So, should we clean this up?” He nods to the living room.

Oh, I love this guy already. “I can do it later,” I argue.

“Two pairs of hands are better than one,” he says.

Only half an hour later, we’ve moved most of my stuff into my bedroom, and Jace’s phone dings.

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