Page 41 of Nocturnes & Nightmares

“Yeah. I know. I’m … addressing it. Slowly.”

“I knew goth kids in high school. Kinda strange.”

“Well, in his defense, the last few months have been kinda rough on him. His dad died. In front of him.”

Face etched with concern, he rubs his knuckles against his jawline. “Oh. I’m so sorry to hear that. I didn’t realize … I knew you’d been married, but I thought it was divorce. I’m sorry.”

“It’s been a tough road, but we’re getting through it. Anyway, I appreciate you stopping in to check on me. That was nice.” And nice that he didn’t try to make a move on me.

“Of course. Say, Nola. Would you… would you want … I mean, you can say no. But I wondered if you might want to have dinner with me, sometime?”

“Oh.” Shit. It’s not that Simon wouldn’t be date material. Looks-wise, he’s nothing special, but he seems nice enough. A little too young for me—I’m guessing by five, or six, years. Unfortunately, I’m in no place financially, or mentally, to jump into a romance with someone right now. “It might be a bit too … soon. For me.”

The red flare of his cheeks intensifies, and he takes a step back, dropping his gaze from mine. “Sure. Forget I asked. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. Thanks again.” Spinning on his heel, he makes a beeline for the front door, and I trail after him.

“Simon, wait! I’m sorry if that came off wrong.” My words fail to slow him down, and he pushes through the front door. “Simon!”

Once outside, he twists to face me, staring at me through the storm door. “It’s okay, okay?”

“Okay.” Dumbfounded, I watch him stumble on his way down the stairs and hobble off to his car.

Once inside his car, he backs toward the end of the drive, and comes to an abrupt stop at the sound of a horn. Voss’s black Audi backs up a little, allowing Simon to slip out, and as the black car crawls up the drive, I see Simon’s car sitting just on the other side of it, as if he’s waiting for something. He drives off down the street, and the bass from Oliver’s room upstairs draws me back to the realization that I have some shit to address with my son.

Before that, though, I race out the back door, catching Voss before he enters his apartment, carrying what looks like a grocery bag.

“Hey!” I shout up to him, and he pauses to face me. Maybe it’s the light hitting his face, or the angle from which he’s looking down on me, but something about him is strikingly attractive. Which is thoroughly irritating, because no way do I need to be attracted to the first renter who comes along. And I’d hate to think it was money that made a man handsome in my eyes, but in all fairness, it’s been a while since one handed over a wad of it all at once. “Thanks for your help today. I’d really like to do something nice in return and invite you to dinner with Oliver and me.”

“It’s no problem, Star Wars. But I’ll take a raincheck on dinner.”

“Oh.” Not that I had any ulterior motives—really—but I suddenly feel the need to make the same exit that Simon did just moments before. And I kind of hate that he still calls me Star Wars. “Okay that’s no problem. I just … really appreciated what you did and wanted to return the favor.”

“Consider your gratitude well-received.”

“Oh. ‘Kay. Cool. Well, that’s all I wanted to say.”

“Who was that? Pulling out of the drive when I arrived?”

“A friend. From work.”

“What’s his name?”

At the crack of a grin on his face, I frown. “Why do you ask?”

“He’s the one who drove you home the other night?”

“Yes.”

Snorting, he shakes his head and pushes the apartment door open. “I wasn’t wrong.”

“Um, if you’re implying I just bedded him, you’re dead wrong.”

“Then, he didn’t ask you to dinner?”

“He did. But it doesn’t mean I accepted. Not that any of this is your business.”

“You’re right. It’s not. And I don’t care to make it my business. Have a good night, Nola.”

The door closes, as if he’s slammed it in my face, and I set my hands on my hips, shaking my head. “What the hell is it with this guy?”