“—are better than these guys.” I pointed to the four men on the makeshift stage.
Malik grinned. “Ah, so you’ve listened to my music.”
I rolled my eyes. “You think I wasn’t going to investigate the troublemaker?”
He did a casual shrug. “Some people would’ve just told me to fuck off.”
“Tempting.”
His eyes widened.
I nudge his biceps with mine. “I’m here, aren’t I? You slept in my bed.”
“First guy to do that in your place, right?” He had a little self-satisfied, smug grin on his face.
Lying felt wrong. “You know you were. And definitely the first to hunker down with both Moses and me.” Because I’d rescued the catafterthe falling-out with Paul. Well, getting dumped.
“A threesome I will never forget.” He grabbed my now-empty cola can and dropped it, along with his, into the appropriate recycling bin. Then he linked arms with me. “I want to try to win a stuffed animal for you.”
“That’s not really—”
“I’m certain Moses would love a furry friend. Shall I try for a squirrel?”
I laughed. I’d told him about Moses’s penchant for sitting at the sliding glass door and chirping at any and all birds and squirrels who appeared either on the balcony or on the trees just behind the condo. “Yes, he’d love a furry friend.” I couldn’t be certain. What I knew about Moses was his love of feather dusters and laser pointers. Everything else was a crapshoot. Oh, and catnip. He adored catnip.
“Great.” Malik led me over to a ring toss.
Eight minutes later, I carried a giant stuffed squirrel over to the cotton-candy stand. He bought us a swirl of blue-and-pink sugary goodness along with two bottles of water. We wandered close to the bandstand and listened as the group played another song which, although good, wasn’t great. Half the time, I didn’t understand the lyrics.
Malik whispered in my ear. “I have a song for you.”
My stomach did a little flip-flop.
“Well, for TLIO.”
I tamped down the disappointment.Of course he didn’t write a song for you. You’re just one in a long line of people he’s taken to his bed.Damn, my inner voice was probably right. Although I’d shared my dearth of partners with him, he’d never reciprocated. I decided I probably didn’t want to know. “Really? I can’t wait to hear it.”
“Conveniently, I have my acoustic guitar in my trunk. I’m happy to give you a private show. Your house or mine?”
I blinked as he met my gaze. The one thing he’d made clear was he never brought his hookups back to his place. He didn’t want them getting ideas about his wealth. From what he’d said, much of it was tied in the real estate. He worked part-time tocover many of his expenses. I hadn’t asked if record sales were great because, truly, none of my business.
“Moses will be upset. He’ll be expecting dinner.”
“We could feed him and then head to my place. He’d be okay for a few hours, right?” His eyes darkened. “Or a night?” Apparently with desire.
This is a big step. It’s one thing to listen to his song. It’s another entirely to go to his house.
I shoved my doubts aside. “Sure, we can do that. I’ll need to be home early in the morning, though.”
“No worries.” He pecked my lips.
I tasted the gritty sugar. I also loved that we could do this in public. Vancouver was an accepting city—for the most part. I’d certainly never experienced overt bigotry. That said, I didn’t tend to do PDA. For Malik, I’d make an exception. “Shall we head out?”
He grinned. “Yeah. Let’s.”
So we did.
Chapter Eighteen
