Pulling a glass bottle of spring water from the refrigerator, I turn toward Winter again, noticing she hasn’t even lifted the lid off her ice cream, confirming what I already knew; she was watching me closer than I watch the stock market on Monday mornings.

“When are you going to stop calling me Grimm?”

“We haven’t negotiated terms.” I lift an eyebrow. “Tit for tat, remember?”

“Well, what do you want? In return for not calling me Grimm, I mean.”

I rest my back against the counter across from her. “I’m not ready to negotiate.”

She chuckles, rolling her eyes. “When will you be ready then?”

I take a slow sip of my water, keeping my eyes fastened on hers. Even in the dark, I see the golden rings shimmer around her honey-brown eyes.

“When the time is right.”

“‘The trouble is, you think you have time’—Buddha.” She smiles, proudly.

“‘Time is a mind construct. It’s not real’—Prince,” I counter.

“‘Time is an illusion’—Albert Einstein.”

“‘A man who dares to waste one hour of time has not discovered the value of life’—Charles Darwin.” I swipe my hand through my unruly hair, feeling that time has run out on this game. “When the time is right, Grimm, you’ll know. Now eat your ice cream.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Fox.” She lifts the lid on her ice cream carton and digs her spoon in.

“I like you submissive.” My scowl smooths. “You should explore that urge.”

“I was being a smartass. Have you had dinner?”

“Slept through it, unfortunately. Have you? Or is this it?” I gesture to the giant spoonful of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food she’s about to shovel into her mouth.

“I went to the strip of restaurants by the pier around six and had dinner. I would have woken you up, but I thought you needed sleep more than food.” She leans forward, opening the drawer below her, and pulls out another spoon. “Here…” She hands the spoon to me.

“I’m not eating that shit.” I shake my head.

“Ice cream? You don’t eat ice cream?”

“No. And certainly not at midnight.”

“Jesus, Fox. Do you ever get your hands dirty?”

“Occasionally I find myself knuckle-deep in a beautiful woman’s tight asshole—”

She holds her hand up to stop me from going any further. “That’s not what I meant.”

“You asked a straightforward question, and I gave you an honest answer.”

“You”—she gobbles another spoonful, licking the spoon when she’s done—“are hideously crude.”

“And you’re somniferously boring.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Somniferously?”

“Yes. Sleep inducing—”

“I know what it means.”

“And yet you seem surprised.”

“Says the man who won’t eat ice cream. How about this, you like negotiating... You eat ice cream for dinner, and I will let you pick the cake flavor tomorrow.”

“I give zero shits about the cake. I’ll eat ice cream for dinner tonight if you wake up early tomorrow and go on my morning run with me.”

She wastes no time shaking her head. “No. I don’t run. I don’t even walk briskly.”