Bags nods his gratitude, steps out of our way, and ushers a hand to the various open seating in the speakeasy. “Enjoy your night, Groffee.”
Thayne unhurriedly leads us to a peach velvet couch on the far side of the stage where a tall, dreadlocked woman is singing into a standing mic while a very short, Hispanic male enthusiastically plays the tambourine along to the music flooding through the unseen speakers.
We’re still settling behind our small, round, wooden table when I inquire, “Is he really playing the tambourine to a Toni Braxton song?”
“Not justanyToni Braxton song but ‘Another Sad Love Song’.” He ensures that I’m comfortable in the space before adventuring to do the same. “But yeah. Yeah, he is.”
Bewilderment seeps into my stare as it connects to his. “What exactly is this place?”
“The Kaloon,” announces my date at the same time he extends his arm around the back of the sofa. “It’s a private, members only, Karaoke, coffee bar.” Unbridled joy rips through his expression. “They only serve things with coffee, so it’s where you come for a drink or dessert, but not dinner.” Regret swiftlyreplaces the previous happiness. “WhichagainI’m sorry about cancelin’ our reservation for that. There was jus’ no way I was gonna make it in time.”
Recalling the interaction, he had with the doorman is what encourages me to investigate, “Were you busy dealing with your own kid or something?”
Confusion quirks an eyebrow. “’Xcuse me?”
“You were relating to what the door dude was saying about the expense of kids, so it got me thinking that maybe you had one or some of your own that I wasn’t aware of, and that that’s why you pushed this back.” T.V. drama knowledge widens my stare. “Orrrrrrr…you could’ve been dealing with discovering that the babysitter you hired really works for an underground trafficking network and had secret plans to kidnap and sell your child to a wealthy couple in the Netherlands.”
Palpable horror has him lowering his jaw and whispering out, “What?!”
“Sorry…” toying with the edge of my clutch occurs out of embarrassment. “I watch a lot of dramas. Particularly spy and romance because medical shit gets too much wrong for me to feel like I’m relaxing rather than preparing a lecture to reeducate the masses that that’s not how that particular procedure isactuallydone.”
Amusement swiftly reappears in his expression allowing my bare shoulders to once more relax.
My nervous movements to still.
Toes to unfurl in my pumps.
Forcryingoutloud, have I always been this bad at dating?!
Is this why no one ever calls or texts for a second date?!
“No kids of my own – although I look forward to the day I have them,” Thayne smoothly announces prior to adjusting one of his suspenders, “but I get what he was talkin’ about ‘causeI’ve had a hand in rasin’ my little brother for as long as I can remember.”
“Bronny, right?”
Surprise swiftly cakes his face.
“You brought him to the family skate last summer.”
“You were there?” Disbelief scrunches him closer to me, woodsy clean scents instantly overwhelming my senses. “How the hell did I miss you?”
“I wasn’t um…” my frame mindlessly curls towards his like the smell is a Siren song, “on the um…” his leg presses lightly against mine, hitching my breath, “um…um…”
Cockiness tugs the edge of his lips upwards. “Ice?”
“That.” Clearing my throat occurs in hopes of regaining my composure. “I swung by on my lunch break. Grabbed a few pictures from the stands.”
“I love how close your office is to the barn.” The casual lick of his lips threatens to have me crawling into his lap. “Means I can swing by anytime before or after pracky.”
And so can I.
Could I.
You know…if I let this…go anywhere like my soul is screaming I should.
“Bronny actuallyisthe reason I’m late.” A small cringe is flashed. “He jus’ up and moved in with me for the rest of the summer.”
“What?” Peering up at him is attached to thoughtlessly pushing myself into him. “What happened?!”
