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were both wearing athletic gear, looking like they’d just gone for a run. I’d never seen Paul in anything but dress shirts and slacks. In the picture, he was wearing a t-shirt that pulled tight across his chest.
    “ Geez,” I muttered. He had strong shoulders and a narrow waist. His biceps were muscled—not too large, but impeccably sculpted. The woman’s hand rested on his stomach, his at her hip. Could this be the woman in Florida? I put the picture back where I’d found it, and opened another drawer—promising myself it was the last one.
    Its contents were mostly notes or bills, but underneath was a brown envelope. In elegant silver script his name, Paul Macione, was written. It smelled sweet, and I brought it to my nose. Someone had definitely applied perfume to it. Carefully, feeling like an insane, crazy person, I opened it.
    Inside was an invitation to a wedding. The wedding of Marjorie Pennywell and Rick Macione. A picture of the couple was plastered on one side. They were looking lovingly into each other’s eyes, and I immediately recognized her. To be sure, I pulled the other drawer open and grabbed the picture of Paul and the woman, holding them side by side.
    She was definitely the same. Was Paul infatuated with his brother’s fiancé? My thoughts and speculations got me nowhere so I put the pictures back.
    The clock on his wall told me he’d be back in five hours. I’d worked an early shift doing inventory at Faeries and Moonbeams and was tired. I walked to the guest bedroom and found Ferdinand sprawled out on the mattress.
    “ Gotta get up, boy,” I said. “I’m taking a nap.”
    He didn’t budge. I walked over and pushed him with all my might. He didn’t move an inch. He was dead weight, lying diagonal across the bed. I pushed him again. Nothing.
    The exertion made me breathless. “Fine,” I said and stomped back to Paul’s room.
    Eager to nap, if only for a little while, I pulled his covers back and removed my jeans. Not wanting to get caught sleeping in his bed, I set my alarm for two hours. When the lights were out, I curled underneath his blanket and sighed.
    The sheets smelled like him. A little. Maybe I only pretended they did.
    When I’d nearly fallen asleep, I heard Ferdinand’s paws pitter patter on the carpet and then he climbed onto the bed, snuggling in as close as possible.
    I smiled and wrapped my arm around him.
     

     
    “ Mia,” someone said. “Mia…” They gave my shoulder a gentle shake.
    I whined, pulling the covers higher over my head. His chuckle sent a tingle down my spine and I shot up. Disoriented, I looked around the room. Paul was standing by the bed, his suitcase at his feet. Ferdinand was next to him, tongue lagging out of his mouth. The clock on the wall said 6 p.m.
    “ You’re early,” I said.
    “ Yeah.” He smiled. “I was ready to be home and took an earlier flight.”
    My hands went to my hair, trying to comb out the tangles. “I’m sorry. I only slept here because Ferdinand was hogging the other bed.”
    “ Don’t worry about it.” He reached a hand out to me, and I realized he was trying to help me down. With a bashful smile, I accepted. It wasn’t until I was standing that I realized I still wasn’t wearing pants. My tank top was short and the polka-dot panties couldn’t be missed.
    Paul’s eyebrows shot up, but he was a complete gentleman and didn’t peek. I kinda wish he would have peaked.
    “ Sorry,” I said, grabbing my jeans. Quickly, I pulled them up my legs and smiled brightly at him, trying my best to let the minor embarrassment go. “So, your trip was nice?”
    He chuckled, looked to his feet then cut his eyes up to me. I fell in love with that smile. Crooked. Lopsided. Turning up only on one side. It was shy and playful all at once. “Not so bad,” he said. “Let me take you to dinner. I want to repay you for helping me out.”
    “ Oh, you don’t have to do that. I wanted to help.” What are you doing? He wants