Wrench held the shampoo bottle at arm’s length, squinting at the butterfly on the label as it compared to the butterfly he had plastered onto the wall.

It was better.

Having a reference had helped. The first butterfly, down in the corner of the wall was awkward and cartoony. The second was not much better, but this one, larger, had a more correct form, and a more pleasing placement on the wall.

“Oh.”

Wrench turned in alarm to find that a woman had come into the private courtyard while he was inspecting his work.

And not just any woman.

She had a healthy, unadorned beauty, from the crown of her straight, shoulder-length dark hair to the curves of her tanned skin. She was standing like a dancer, poised to fall into motion at the slightest hint of music. Her body was a lush combination of strength and softness, and Wrench might have stared at the generous expanse of her cleavage if he had not been entirely captured by the gorgeous planes of her face and the eternity in her brown eyes.

“Oh,” he said in return.

Oh yes, his panther said, stretching in his head.

For a lengthy moment, they stood there, just staring at each other.

“You must be Wrench,” she finally said.

“Yeah,” Wrench was able to say gruffly. “You’re gonna be Lydia.”

He was torn. Most of him wanted to gather her up in his arms and lay her down on the tiles of the courtyard right then and there. The rest of him, humiliated, wanted to cover the work that he’d done on her wall. It was insufficient. It was unworthy. It was painfully amateur.

“So,” she said softly. “You’re my mate.” She was toying with a necklace.

“Yeah,” Wrench agreed, at his panther’s urging. “I guess so,” he added.

Her eyes flashed with something. Pity? Wrench hated pity worse than being touched.

“This is awkward,” he said swiftly, scowling. “It’s gotta be a disappointment. I mean, ah, not you. You’re not. Just....” Me. I’m the disappointment. He was the kind of guy you wanted to scare off door-to-door salesmen and tax collectors. He wasn’t the kind of guy a nice woman like this dreamed of for a mate. Any other day of his life, he would have been just fine with his role, but for the first time, he wished he were someone else. Someone she’d actually want.  

Panther lashed his tail in displeasure. This was not how their meeting was supposed to be going.

“Oh!” she said swiftly. “I’m not… ah, it’s not. Of course not.” Then her gorgeous face quirked into a brilliant smile. “I’m just caught by surprise,” she said shyly.

Wrench was not sure he should believe her.

She looked past him then, and appraised the wall of her courtyard. “Mariposa! I like it,” she said.

“I can take it down, plaster over it or whatever,” Wrench said swiftly, before he registered her words. “You do?”

Lydia moved like a dancer, with graceful, purposeful steps, until she was standing close to him, looking at the wall. She smelled like tropical flowers and soap.

It was intoxicating.

Panther thought it was better than catnip and Wrench had to squelch his impulse to rub himself on her hair. He took a half-step away.

“It’s cheerful,” Lydia said approvingly.

“The first few weren’t right,” Wrench said honestly. “But I found this to look at.” He waved the shampoo bottle at her. “This one’s better.”

“Will you do more of them?” Lydia gave him a glance from beneath thick, dark eyelashes.

Wrench would cheerfully have taken the roofs off of every cottage in the resort to break into pieces to make mosaics on every wall she walked past. “I guess.” He shrugged.

“I’d like that,” Lydia said, biting her lip.

She was looking at him as appraisingly as she’d looked at the mosaic. “What now?” she asked hesitantly.

Panther had decided ideas about what came next, and Wrench had to swallow and shift his erection in his pants as discreetly as possible.

When he didn’t offer any ideas out loud, she suggested, “Do you want to join me for a cup of coffee? Get to know each other?”

“Coffee,” Wrench echoed stupidly. Panther’s imagination was vivid and involved no clothing, so very little of his blood was getting to his brain.

“It’s a drink made from caffeinated beans,” Lydia explained. A playful smile lurked at the corners of her mouth.

She was actually trying to put him at ease, Wrench realized, and he was painfully grateful for her efforts. He drew himself up and tried to mimic Tex as he said, “I’d like that. Ma’am.” He reached for his head before he remembered that he wasn’t wearing a hat, and turned it into an awkward rub at his bristle-short hair.

“Lydia?” One of the curvy identical sisters was standing at the door to the courtyard. Wrench wasn’t sure if it was Laura or Jenny, but he wanted to snarl and throw something at her, even if the moment she was interrupting was awkward and awful.

Lydia turned away from him to answer. “What is it?”

“We’ve got someone asking about a deep tissue massage, any chance you’re free?” Her look at Wrench was curious and puzzled, and Wrench scowled back at her.

“I’ll be right there,” Lydia said.

Laura-or-Jenny scampered away, and Lydia turned back to Wrench. “How about after dinner?” she suggested.

“Coffee?” Wrench repeated helplessly.

“Maybe something not caffeinated,” Lydia suggested. “We could meet at the bar.”

He knew he was making her do all of the heavy lifting here, but Wrench was desperately out of his depth and adrift. He couldn’t stop imagining what she must taste like, what her skin would feel like, what she’d sound like when he… “Yes,” he choked. “Bar. After dinner. Not caffeinated.”

She reached out like she might touch him, and Wrench couldn’t quite keep himself from flinching away.

Her look was puzzled, and a little hurt, Wrench thought, but she gave him a little smile before turning away.

It wasn’t until after she had glided away that he realized she was going to want to talk to him at the bar that night.