He gestured between us, at the charged air. “If this is worth exploring.”
“You’re on tour.”
He held out his phone. “I am. But we’re in Asheville for three more days. Then Charlotte for a week, then back here for another show before we leave North Carolina. Give me your number. I’ll text you. You can think about it. No pressure.”
“This is pressure.”
“This is me being clear about what I want. Pressure would be showing up at your work with flowers and a boom box.”
“That’s stalking.”
“Only if it’s unwanted. Is it unwanted, Autumn?” His smile was devastating.
My name again. I was going to have a problem with the way he said my name.
“I don’t date musicians.” My voice came out rough.
“Good thing I’m a person who makes music then.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“It’s really not.”
We stared at each other. The room felt too small, too hot, too full of possibility and danger and all the things I’d sworn off when my marriage ended. Being alone was safer than being hurt.
Brynn glared at me. “Give him your number.”
“Stay out of this.” I didn’t look at her.
“I’m physically incapable of staying out of anything. It’s my fatal flaw. Also, you’re being an idiot.”
“Brynn.”
“He’s hot, he’s talented, he’s interested, and you haven’t been on a date since the cryptocurrency guy who tried to pitch you an NFT between the appetizer and entrée . Give. Him. Your. Number.”
Cole’s eyebrows shot up. “Cryptocurrency guy?”
“We don’t talk about cryptocurrency guy.”
“That bad?”
“He compared Bitcoin to the evolution of human consciousness.”
“Yikes.”
“For forty-five minutes.”
“I promise I won’t mention cryptocurrency once. Scout’s honor.”
“Were you a Scout?”
“No. But I’m making a sincere promise anyway.”
A laugh bubbled up before I could stop it. He was ridiculous. The whole situation was absurd.
But he looked at me as if I mattered, like I was more than the sum of my failures and insecurities. It had been so long since anyone had looked at me like that.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I took his phone. Typed in my number. Handed it back.
