As if the thoughts running through my mind didn’t make me blush enough, his ridiculous smile amps up the heat in my cheeks another few levels. It’s like he knows what I’m thinking.
“Me? I’m fine,” I say as I move my drink to my right. “What are you up to today?”
He shrugs. “What about you?”
“I’m going to head back to the hotel and pull out my briefcase and get lost in paperwork. I go home late tomorrow, and it will feel really good to be all caught up.”
“You didn’t see any of Savannah at all, did you?”
“Nope. Not a thing. Besides Picante,” I add with a grin.
He grins too. “You know I’m a big fan of work myself, but you should really get out and see some of the city. There’s so much to do here.”
I sit back in my seat and study him. What does someone like him do on the weekends? I can imagine him shirtless on a boat, drinking beer from a bottle. It’s not hard to envision him walking down a cozy street at dusk after seeing a live band and having dinner al fresco. But I can also see him sitting on a balcony overlooking a grassy field with a computer on his lap.
“What is your favorite thing to do on the weekends?” I ask, hoping he doesn’t say that he likes to pick up random women and take them to random hotel rooms.
That would suck.
“I don’t do a lot, but I’m from here,” he says, “so it’s different.”
“Sure, it is,” I tease.
“It is. I’ve done it all.”
“Well, what would you suggest someone do if they were only going to do one thing?”
He taps a finger against his bottom lip. “There are the trolley tours downtown that are fun but kind of touristy. You could kayak or take a riverboat cruise, which would be perfect if you like outdoorsy kinds of things. And you have to see the Cathedralof St. John the Baptist. Forsyth Park. Bonaventure Cemetery.”
“A cemetery?” I laugh. “Not that I had kayaking in mind, but definitely not a cemetery.”
“And maybe that’s why you need to go.”
I lift a brow. “So I can tell people I saw a cemetery in Savannah?”
“So you can broaden your horizons.”
“Listen, Mr. Tour Guide—I’ve done more things on this vacation that are out of the ordinary for me than I’ve ever done. I think we can skip the cemetery.”
We exchange an easy grin as Lola walks by. She doesn’t stop to check on us, and I wonder if it’s because neither of us looks her way.
“You know what I would do if I was going to be here a while longer?” I ask.
“Not the cemetery.”
“No. Not the cemetery.” I lean forward and pull my glass in front of me. “I’d go see the Kelvin McCoy concert.”
His forehead mars as if he misheard me.
“What?” I ask. “You don’t like his music?”
“I … No. I like it just fine.”
“Then why are you looking at me like I just grew three heads?”
He sits back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “Are you a fan of his?”
Something about the way he looks at me bothers me. It’s as if I’m wrong to like the country singer that Sienna turned me on to.
