This one already means more.
“Why the heck not?”
THREE
His thumb strokesover my wrist once before he catches himself and lets go.
“You coming?” Mia asks, her gaze bouncing between us.
“Give me a sec,” I tell Miles, and then I pull Mia aside until we’re out of earshot. “I’m gonna stay.”
She raises a brow. “With Miles? Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “Unless there’s something I don’t know…”
Mia darts a look over my shoulder at Miles, still sitting at the bar, before returning her attention to me. “From what I’ve heard from my brother and Dom, Miles isn’t exactly boyfriend material?—”
“Great. I’m not looking for a boyfriend,” I cut in. Not when I’ve got an album to record and lyrics to write.
It’s not the first time I’ve made this choice. It’s easier this way. No wondering if I should’ve called sooner, no guilt when I canceled plans because inspiration hit or a gig ran late. I’ve never been good at splitting my focus. Music has always won.
“He’s the one-night type,” she continues. “Doesn’t-do-repeats type.”
Something about that doesn’t fit the awkward-yet-charming man I’ve known for less than a day. But that’s better. No complications. No distractions.
“I’m okay with that,” I tell her.
She studies my face, then pulls me in for a quick hug, muttering one last warning. I walk her to Dominic’s car, double-parked out front, then head back inside to Miles.
“Everything okay?” he asks as I slide onto the barstool.
“Peachy.” My lips tip up. “Should we get out of here?”
“Where were you thinking?” He takes a swig of his drink. His stubble is a shade or two darker than his light brown hair. It’s the perfect amount, enough to prickle my thighs when he’s?—
“I don’t know, wherever you normally take women,” I blurt.
He pulls my chair closer, gaze darting over my features as if looking for my bluff. Then a deep laugh huffs out of him.
The sound and his proximity warm me from the inside out, heat creeping up my neck and staining my cheeks.
“You’re—” His eyes flick between mine. “Something,” he settles on, quiet enough to almost get lost in the noise of the bar.
“Something good?”
He swings an arm over the back of my chair, bringing us even closer. “Guess we’ll see.”
It doesn’t feel like a line. But then again, the good ones never do.
“Why don’t we stay a bit longer?” His hand stills, like the words surprise him.
“All right.” I’m reaching for my notepad before I can talk myself out of it. Scribbling a note aboutonly one nightandsomethings, while making sure it’s out of Miles’s view.
“What’re you writing?” He grins. “Thought we established you’re not a reporter.”
“Sorry.” My gaze flicks up, but I keep writing. “It’s rude, I know. My mama always tells me so. It’s just when the inspiration hits, I’ve got to put pen to paper.”
He nods, and the way he’s looking at me has me blurting the truth. “It’s been hard to find the right words recently.”
