I close the door, instantly grateful for the silence as the noisy bar outside is muted. Standing by the wall, I watch Garrick dump the bottle of water into the glass of ice and knock it back. The way his throat works as he drinks is sexy as hell, as is the way his eyes remain locked on mine the entire time. He has barely taken his eyes off me since I arrived on the stage, and I wonder if he’s always this attentive with everyone he meets. When he’s finished, he places the glass down on the snack bar with his gaze still attached to mine in a way that is starting to make me uncomfortable.
“Can I get you anything else?” I ask, my eyes darting to the door. It’s crazy busy and I need to get back. I also wouldn’t mind putting some distance between the two of us. His presence is magnetic, and it concerns me that I’ve noticed.
Little beads of sweat cling to his brow before he swipes them away with the back of his hand. His disarming smile is firmly in place as he stalks toward me. “Just your company.” He moves in closer, and his breath tickles my face when he speaks. “What’s your name, and do you go to school here too?” Curiosity lights up his handsome face as his inquisitive gaze probes mine.
“Why do you want to know?” I step sideways to create some distance between us.
“I’m just making conversation.”
There’s a weird tension in the air. A crackling charge ripping across the space separating our bodies, and I don’t like feeling some freaky connection between us. “Well, I’m working, and they need me outside, so I should go.”
“It’s too quiet in here, and I don’t like hanging around by myself.” His earnest eyes are shielding nothing, and I know it isn’t a lie or a ruse to trap me into spending time with him. “Not when I’m pumped full of adrenaline. Normally, my friends would be here, but they all had shit to do tonight.” His eyes soften. “You’d be doing me a big favor if you kept me company.” He flops down on the couch, still maintaining eye contact with me. He pats the space beside him. “I only have a short break, and I promise I won’t bite.” He flashes me another ovary-clenching smile. “I’m betting you haven’t taken a break all night. Rest your feet and take a breather.”
A break does sound nice, and he’s right. I wasn’t able to take my usual ten minutes earlier because it was too busy. Suddenly, my feet feel heavy, and my legs ache like they might go out from under me.
Garrick hops up and grabs two chilled bottles of water from the mini refrigerator as I lower my tired butt onto the couch. Fridays are always nightmarish because I have classes until lunch, then I work my shift at Butterfly Flowers, and run back to the apartment I share off-campus with my friend Ellen to grab something to eat and a quick shower before showing up for my shift at the bar. I usually sleep in late on Saturday morning, too exhausted to get up early.
“You look like you need this as much as me,” he says, handing me a water.
“Thanks, and I do. It’s hot out there tonight.”
“It’s a veritable sauna,” he agrees. “If it’s like this every Friday night, I might start showing up in nothing but shorts.”
“That would be one way of keeping your fans loyal,” I tease as I uncap the bottle.
“I’m here for the music, not the girls.” He flashes me a flirty look, that seems to contradict his statement, before gulping back his drink.
“Said no rock star ever,” I deadpan, fighting a grin.
“I’m not a rock star nor do I have any desire to be.”
“How come? You must know you’re good, and isn’t it what most musicians dream of?”
He shrugs before draining his second bottle of water and tossing the empty in the trash can. “Not me. Music is a hobby. It’s a release. A way to indulge my creative side. It will never be anything more.”
“It seems a shame to waste such natural talent, but I admire you for knowing what you want and sticking to your resolve.”
“I still don’t know your name.” He twists around on the couch. His knee brushes against my jean-clad leg as he leans in closer, giving me his undivided attention.
It’s unnerving, but I still can’t force myself to get up and leave.
“And you didn’t tell me if you go to UO too,” he adds, looking at me like I’m the most fascinating person in the world.
“I’m Stevie, and yes, I go to school here. I’m studying floral management and just about to finish my sophomore year.”
“Same here.”
My eyes pop wide. I’m pretty sure there are no guys in any of my classes. Floral management is not really a guy thing.
He chuckles. “I meant I’m a sophomore. I’m majoring in family enterprise.”
“Oh, cool. Does your family have a business?”
He nods as his tongue darts out wetting his lips. “My dad is CEO of Allen Lumber and Allen Wineries. I’ll be joining the business when I graduate.”
His tone is very matter-of-fact, and it doesn’t seem like he’s bragging. Wouldn’t matter if he was. I’m hard to impress, and I can’t think of any guy who has ever managed to do it. “I know Allen Wineries. The country club I used to work at back home buys their wine. So, you’re from Seattle too?”
“Born and bred.”
