“I suppose you’re going to say I should see the other guy,” Jillian said as she examined Danny’s wounded mouth later that evening.

“Actually,” Danny replied dryly, “that would be helpful. Watch out for a guy with a limp,” he added with a grin that caused him to wince in pain. “I got his knee pretty good. I’m surprised he was able to drive.”

Danny stood next to a pot of boiling water chopping vegetables for a vegetarian pasta dish he was preparing. Jillian took a sip of something burgundy-colored in a wine glass and watched him.

“Maybe he had a driver,” she posed.

“Could be,” Danny acknowledged. “Could be the same woman that called Bean.” He cleared the cutting board of cherry tomatoes, zucchini, portabella and basil and proceeded to mince several cloves of garlic very finely.

“But I don’t know,” he went on. “Why call in the first place if your friendly neighborhood psychopath is planning to lay on some muscle?”

“Jesus,” said Jillian, “you say that so casually. You could have been badly hurt, or killed.” She poured another splash of crimson into her glass from a decanter on a small table.

Danny added penne to the pot of water and leaned back against the counter. He took a long pull from a bottle of Dos Equis. “That’s true,” he said. “I guess our friend got a little more than he bargained for though.” A smile appeared on lips.

Jillian figured it was pointless to argue, but she gave it a try anyway. “You caught him off guard, Danny, caught him by surprise. Don’t assume it’ll work out that way again. I just hope you got the message.” She crossed the space between them touched his elbow imploringly.

“Unless you have nine lives,” she said, “maybe you better lay off.”

Danny jerked his arm away. “Fuck him and his message,” Danny said. Jillian took a step back, slightly shocked. Danny lowered his voice a bit, but he spoke with the same intensity.

“He’s probably the same motherfucker that killed my buddy, Jillian. I can’t believe the two events are unrelated.”

“I’m not saying they aren’t,” Jillian pleaded. “I just…“ her words trailed off.

“So I paid him out a bit,” Danny pondered, “and all it cost me was a split lip.” He pulled a colander from a cupboard and placed it into the sink. “All in all…I’d say I had a pretty good day.”

“A good day,” she repeated in disbelief.

Danny pulled the pot from the stove and emptied the contents into the colander.

“Hey,” Danny replied with a grin and a shrug, “I got a date with a beautiful girl, didn’t I?” He combined the veggies and the pasta in a large bowl and tossed them with olive oil, topping it off with a healthy does of Parmesan. Jillian drained her glass and reached for more.

*       *       *

After dinner they treated themselves to a pair of Beautifuls—equal parts cognac and Grand Marnier—and stepped out onto the rotting back porch to enjoy the light chill and take in the spearmint.

Danny closed the door behind him and turned to join her. She kissed him abruptly as he stepped forward, and he nearly tumbled down the steps into the woodpile. But he didn’t fall. He kissed her back fiercely, forgetting his wounded lip.

Danny awoke the next morning with a warm body next to him in bed, and turned to touch Jillian’s shoulder in mild astonishment. The number of lonely nights he’d endured since losing his sight amounted to an embarrassing sum. He tried not to wake her as he climbed from the bed, but she grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him back just as he slipped loose of the covers.

“Oh no you don’t,” she mumbled, throwing her other hand around his thin waist.

He allowed himself to be enticed.

“I’ve got to get some work done,” he pleaded unconvincingly between kisses.

Jillian laughed girlishly.