Picture This by Jayne Denker Page B

body parts till you agree to talk with me.
    Niall. Her stomach fluttered nervously, and she caught herself smiling. He hadn’t followed her out the door last night, but he’d called. Several times. She hadn’t answered. Now here he was, trying to get her attention with an armpit photo? Insane. So very, very Niall.
    The next one was a photo of an eye. Yep, it was his, all right. She’d know that hazel iris and devilishly arched eyebrow anywhere.
    The third got a little more risqué: a nipple.
    She was afraid to open the fourth, wondering how far he was going to take this, but it was an ear. She let out a relieved breath.
    Another one came in, and she tapped the picture to enlarge it. She stifled a gasp with a hand over her mouth . . . but no. It was a bent elbow. Giggling ruefully, she scrolled through the thumbnails of the photos. What was she going to do about this? She’d promised herself not to communicate with him ever again. She’d ignored his previous calls . . . but she hadn’t blocked his number. Still, she needed to push him out of her head (and her heart because, if she was going to be honest with herself, he was creeping in there, bit by bit), to be realistic about things. And being realistic meant dating Buck, or guys like him, and not entertaining ridiculous fantasies about—
    Ping . Another text came in. Against her better judgment, she opened it. This photo was a downturned corner of Niall’s mouth, creases at the corner forming a couple of nested c ’s. The message said, Need to talk to you. Strictly business.
    Business?
    Plus I want to apologize. Please.
    Celia hesitated. He was wrong. What he’d proposed had been wrong. But an apology would be all right, wouldn’t it? She quickly texted back, Stand down before you hurt yourself. Call? Text?
    Meet, please.
    Oh God, was that a good idea? But she found herself typing back, When?
    Just as Buck sat back down across from her, the last text came in. When you least expect it. And as soon as humanly possible. It was accompanied by a photo of Niall’s broad, delighted smile. Celia grinned at the sight.
    â€œGood news?” Buck asked politely, taking a sip of water.
    Celia nodded. “Yeah,” she said, beaming. “I think so.”
    When you least expect it, eh? She snuck a glance out the window and was relieved he wasn’t standing outside the restaurant in a trench coat, holding a boom box over his head. Or was she disappointed?
    Â 
    Celia’s steps slowed as she reached her building. She’d met Buck at the restaurant and had politely refused his offer to see her home. The date had been fine . . . well, no. She was certain there wouldn’t be a second. Especially when she realized she couldn’t recall a single thing about the guy she’d just spent two hours with when she spotted Niall sitting on her apartment steps.
    He glanced up and tossed her a casual, “Hey, ’sup?”
    Fighting back a smile, and failing, she asked, “Been here long?”
    â€œAbout this long.” Niall gestured around him. All over the stoop, and on the wide brick and concrete stepped walls on either side, sat colorful, bulbous balloon creations. He finished twisting a pink balloon and handed it to her. “For you.”
    She turned it over, scrutinizing it. “Er . . . what is it?”
    â€œAn elephant. Or a platypus. Or a sword. I’m not sure. You can decide.” At that moment, a mother walked past, tugging the hand of a small child who hung back, eyes bugging at the display. “Here, kid.” Niall plucked a blue balloon creation off the wall and handed it to her. “Enjoy.”
    â€œYou know how to make balloon animals,” Celia said. “How did you—?”
    â€œI learned for Party Clown. ”
    â€œWow, no stunt double?”
    â€œAmazing what actors will do for their craft, right?”
    â€œHow’d you find out where I