“Easy peasy.” I hold my glass up and wait for her to do the same. “To us and a new routine that benefits us.” The glasses clink and we drink.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“Why would I need to do that?”
Josie lifts one shoulder. “To take advantage of me in your truck.”
The way she says it goes right to my dick. I adjust as discreetly as possible and clear my throat. I’m visibly uncomfortable. That gets me her real smile.
Josie’s hand moves slowly across the table until her fingers are playing with mine. “We own the land the water tower is on.”
“This is true.”
“And it’s been a really long time since I rode you in your truck.”
Heat spreads everywhere. With my free hand, I tug at my collar and adjust the top button. “Jojo.” My voice carries a hint of warning.
“Rockstar.”
I chuckle and lean forward, hiding the bulge in my trousers. “You know, all you have to do is ask. I’ll give you whatever you want.”
Josie leans forward and keeps her voice low. “I want to go to the water tower, make out like teenagers and bounce?—”
“Is there anything else I can get you?” the waiter has impeccable timing. Josie’s smile is wicked and gleaming, and she leaves me to answer.
“We’re—” I have to clear the lump away. “All good for right now.”
He smiles and tells us he’ll back.
I run my hand over my face. “I need to use the restroom.”
“Don’t you dare rub it out.”
My eyes widen at her words. “Josephine Westbury!”
“Don’t call me Josephine and I know you, Liam.” She stares me down and I swear I can feel the daggers stabbing me.
“I won’t. I promise.” I stand, lean toward her, and pull her chin up with my finger so she’s looking into my eyes. “I would never deprive you.” I kiss the tip of her nose and stalk off.
The night is exactly what I wanted for us.
It happens on the way back from the restroom. A woman stops me between the tables. Pleasant, well dressed, a little bright in the eyes. She says she doesn’t want to bother me, and then she does. She listens every night, she says. She tells me she was in a bad way and my voice got her through it, that some nights it felt like I was talking straight to her, like I knew. She’s got my show times memorized and watches my social media forreplays of the clips my team has put together. She knows the song I closed with on Thursday and tells me I used it before and then asks why I didn’t choose something different.
“It’s how I felt in the moment,” I tell her. “I’m glad I was able to help. Thank you for listening.”
She sticks her hand out. We shake. I smile and start to let go. She doesn’t ease her grip until I tug my hand away. “Have a nice evening,” I tell her and walk back to my table.
None of this is a crime. Is it wrong to approach someone like this? Maybe. I can make an argument that I want my privacy but then people like her are the people who gave me the grace to be the persona I am.
Still, there are times, like now, when I want to be Liam Westbury. Where I want to have a nice night with my wife without having to be on.
I get back to the table and Josie’s watching the whole thing over the rim of her glass.
“Fan?”
“Listener.” I sit back down. “Says I helped her through a tough time.”
“That’s sweet.”
