Later that afternoon, I met Marvin for a quick lunch at a deli across from his office. While he devoured a corned beef sandwich, I stretched out my leg and asked him to look at my ankle. He barely glanced down at first, but then his chewing slowed as he noticed the faint marks circling my skin.
“I need to tell you something,” I said carefully. “The saleswoman was flirting with me earlier. We never really discussed women, so I’m not sure if that breaks one of your rules.”
The expression that crossed Marvin’s face sent a rush of heat through me. He leaned forward and kissed me hard enough to make me forget where we were sitting.
“Honey,” I whispered when we finally pulled apart, laughing softly at the lingering taste of corned beef, “you have no idea what that does to me.”
Marvin’s eyes darkened with excitement. “Maybe you should go find yourself some trouble,” he murmured.
I tried to warn him that several college-aged boys nearby were openly staring at us, but he was already gathering his things and apologizing that he had to get back to work.
After he left, I stayed by the window, replaying the conversation in my mind. A few minutes later, a tall young man crossed the deli and slid into Marvin’s empty chair. Several friends lingered nearby, grinning as they watched him.
“I couldn’t help overhearing,” he said confidently. “Sounds like you’re looking for company.”
He had the relaxed arrogance of someone used to getting attention—broad shoulders, athletic build, and a crooked smile that suggested he enjoyed testing boundaries.
“How old are you?” I asked, mostly to regain control of the conversation.
His grin widened. “Old enough.”
I shook my head, trying not to laugh despite myself. There was something reckless about him that made me uneasy and intrigued at the same time.
He leaned a little closer. “Relax. I’d treat you right.”
“What about your audience over there?” I asked, nodding toward his friends.
“They’ll disappear if I ask them to.”
I stood and picked up my purse, intending to leave before the situation escalated any further. As I stepped around him, he lightly caught my hand. The gesture wasn’t rough, but it stopped me long enough for my pulse to quicken.
Before either of us could say anything else, Dale, the deli manager, approached and asked whether I needed someone to walk me to my car. I thanked him and assured him I was fine.
The young man smiled as though none of it had discouraged him in the slightest.
“Guess I’ll just have to earn that ride another time,” he said.