She didn’t buy it. And, yet? The way he looked at her like he wanted to nibble her neck? Dear goodness, it made her stomach flutter, and she seriously considered tossing herself on the floor if it meant he’d keep talking to her.
Any argument she’d made about why this—he—was a bad idea deflated right there.
Getting close to anyone is a mistake.
Especially someone with the ability to wreck her heart. Someone just like him. A guy with staying power who would make her consider staying when it came time to leave.
The red still flamed against his cheeks and the thread tethering him to the moment seemed shaky. “It’s nice to meet Babushka’s famous Sam.”
Famous. No. No, she wasn’t famous. Not anymore.
God, no. Her heartbeat quickened, and the intense desire to bolt took hold.
She rocked back and forth on her toes. “I…uh…gotta go back to work,” she said. If she hurried, she could finish the rest of her shift and be out of there by the time Chef Mike started baking his tots.
Chapter Two
TANNER
Not every daya guy walked into a room and fell in immediate lust with a woman playing Twister. Then again, Tanner’s life hadn’t been normal since the band Dimefront had recruited him as their new drummer a couple of years ago.
Drummer for Dimefront.
Would that thought ever stop making him grin like he’d just won billions on Powerball?
“You cannot go,” Babushka stepped forward to Sam. “Tanner has just arrived.” She gestured to him like an elderly showcase showgirl presenting a bedroom set. Or an RV. Or a trip to Greece. “Have a chocolate.”
He tried to open his mouth to say something about how he’d like Sam to stick around. He’d heard so much about her—granted, he hadn’t known it washer. But now everything clicked into place. He’d been under the assumption that she was a new staffer doing an excellent job. Honest to hell, he’d expected her to be a man. Given the way the Purple Peony worked, he figured Sam was a muscled bodybuilder who liked the attention of the older crowd.
He hadn’t realized she wasSam. There was something about her that went deeper than surface. A pull he wouldn’t mind investigating.
She was pretty personified with those pink lips and the brown eyes that made him want to dive inside, brown hair that he seriously wanted to reach over and touch.
So he wanted to ask her to stick around with him, but his tongue just wouldn’t work.
She stared at him funny, like the ball was in his court and now was his time to say something.
This was always his worry. The thing that kept him up at night. Put him in front of a stadium of thousands of fans? He’d play the hell out of Dimefront classics. Put him in a room with elderly women? He’d make a new best friend in five seconds flat.
Put him face-to-face with a pretty girl? His tongue seized and wouldn’t work. Then embarrassment would sink in, and he’d turn all kinds of interesting shades of red.
“Stay,” Babushka said, gently, to Sam. “Please.”
Thank you, Babushka, because he hadn’t made a sound, and yet, the last thing he wanted was for Sam to walk away. Not yet. Not before he got to know this mystery woman.
Sam looked to him and he couldn’t quite make eye contact.
Shit. Damn. Fuck.
“I need to prep for backgammon,” Sam said, pulling the edge of her bottom lip between her teeth. And something about that motion seemed to tickle a part of his brain in a familiar way he could not put his finger on. A way that made him taste purple Spree candies with a side of mozzarella sticks, and wish he was on a Ferris wheel.
Unfortunately, since Tanner was Tanner, he said nothing.
“Tanner comes to visit vhen he is in town. He travels much, but vhen he is here he stops by all the time.” Babushka not-so-subtly cleared her throat as though this was the spot where he picked up the slack and ran with it. “He brings us treats. He tells us stories. He—”
Sam grabbed a truffle from the box. “Thanks for the candy. It’s great to meet you, Tanner,” Sam said, heading for the door. She seemed to wait two-thirds of a second to see if he’d say something.
He tried. Honest as all hell, he tried.
