Page 102 of Johnny

anyway.”

“Yeah,” he says. Chuckling a little. “That’s how we did it when I was a kid too.” He pulls the gold

ribbon off—once again draping it across his thigh—then opens the hinged lid of the velvet case and

displays the necklace for me with a flourish of his hand. “Ah, fuck,” he says. “It’s not green.”

No. It’s not green. It’s all diamonds. And it’s spectacular. Even though those stones can’t be real.

There’s too many of them. It’s definitely a cocktail necklace meant to impress, but not require security

guards to wear in public.

“Here,” he says, unfastening the clasp and leaning forward. “Allow me.”

I suck in a deep breath of air as his fingers reach under my hair and flit across my neck. And when

I lift my eyes up he’s right there. His blue eyes just an inch or two from mine.

I think I stop breathing.

But then he’s got the necklace on and he leans back again. Smiling at me. “God, that’s nice, Megan.

You’re maybe a little overdressed for swimming, but…” He shakes his head. “I don’t really mind it if

you don’t.”

My hand lifts up to my throat to feel the weight of the stones and silver on my neck and I let out a

long breath. “I’m not wearing all this swimming,” I laugh.

“Oh, fuck yeah you are. I wanna see it sparkle in the moonlight.” Then he picks up one of the gold,

satin ribbons on his thigh and holds it up. “May I?” he asks.

I’m confused. “What do you mean?”

He leans forward, reaches around me, and gathers up half of my long, wild blonde hair. Then ties

the ribbon around it, making a pig tail. He does it again on the other side and when he leans back

again, he smiles. “There. Now I can see the necklace and the earrings.”

My heart skips a beat and I bite my lip.

“Oh,” he says, holding up the last gold ribbon. “We can’t forget this one.” He takes the ribbon and

ties a figure eight knot in the center, then proceeds to tie a sliding knot to form a sort of bracelet.

I grin at him. But he’s concentrating hard on his little impromptu craft project. His knee begins to

bounce as he gently tugs and pulls on the ribbon, smoothing it out and making sure the knots he’s made

aren’t tight, but rather two very sophisticated and artful loops.

When he’s done he smiles at me. Picks my hand up, slips the soft ribbon over it, and tightens the

sliding knot just enough so that my wrist is wrapped up like a fancy present.