He paid, and we left the store.
“How much time do you have?” Oliver asked.
“I don’t know.” I adjusted the shopping bags hanging off my wrist. “I guess I should be back in time for the show.”
“Want to go for a walk to the lake nearby? It’s supposed to be quite beautiful.”
“Sure,” I said as excitement filled my chest. I didn’t care where he wanted to go as long as I could prolong this time with him. He smiled down at me, and we began to walk. Whenever I could, I allowed my gaze to skate down the contours of his body. He was lean and very tall. Everything about him exuded masculine vitality. I wasn’t stupid. I knew that being a famous rock star added to his appeal, but even without all of that, even if he’d just been a regular Joe walking down the streets of Oakland on a weekend afternoon, I was sure he’d still be turning heads.
“Have you ever been here before?” he asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“No, this is my first time in California, even though I’m moving to LA soon. I guess I always knew I’d like it here.”
“I do miss the beach,” Oliver said. “My family has a place in the Hamptons, but I don’t make it up there all that often. Have you ever been to New York?”
I wished I could tell him I was well-traveled, that I’ve been to New York, and Paris, and London, and God knows where else, but instead, all I could do was shake my head. “No. I’ve been to Philadelphia and Miami, but besides that, I’m a small-town girl through and through.”
“Ah. Well, don’t worry. When I was your age, I didn’t travel much, either,” he said in a relaxed voice, but he may as well have dropped a bucket of ice-cold water over my head. He was eleven years older than me—I looked it up last night. I knew my age would become a problem eventually, it was only a matter of—
“Maybe one day I’ll take you there,” he added after a momentary pause, looking down at me with a friendly expression.
Relief filled my lungs. Could he really mean it? Of course, I knew he wasn’t about to whisk me away to New York tomorrow, but didn’t his comment imply he thought we’d know each other for longer than the duration of this tour?
“I’d love that,” I said, glancing at him from beneath my eyelashes. For a second, his eyes glinted with something I couldn’t quite make out, but then it was gone.
Our arms brushed against each other every few steps as he led us to the lake. I stole quick glances at him, still in disbelief that we were hanging out. This felt like a date. I, Ivy Abbot, was on a maybe-date with Oliver Straits.
Not once did I glance at the GPS on my phone. I wanted to be led by him. Putting myself at his will was tantalizingly seductive. Some small nagging part of my brain was concerned at my willingness to abandon myself to this man who I’d just met, but I ignored it. Isn’t this what falling in love was supposed to feel like? As if you were taking a leap of faith into something unknown?
The lake unfurled before our eyes, and we walked onto a dock that extended out into the water. The wooden planks rocked softly under my feet as I surveyed our surroundings. A colorful gazebo directly across from where we stood caught my attention.
“It’s beautiful here,” I commented.
“It is. Reminds me of weekends at the beach house with my dad when I was growing up. I loved taking out a boat and spending hours on the water.”
“You’re close with him?”
He shrugged. “We’d had our ups and downs. For a long time, I struggled to live up to his expectations.”
“You?” I asked incredulously. “How is that possible?”
Oliver chuckled, grabbing the metal railing in front of us and leaning his weight back. “He’s spent his entire career on the business side of the music industry. I think he wanted me to be a musician before I was even born. It wasn’t until Ritual Disruption took off that he finally told me he was proud of me.” There was a tension in his voice that made me think there was more to that story.
“I can relate,” I said. “I’m an expert at not living up to my parents’ expectations.”
He looked down at me, his eyes glimmering with amusement. “I don’t believe you.”
I snorted, despite the warm feeling that spread through my chest at his words. “I’m serious. I’m the black sheep of the family.”
“What possible reason could there be for that?” Oliver asked, turning so that he was facing me.
“Cole and my parents are artists, and they have these impressive talents, while I’m just… I don’t know. There’s nothing special about me.”
I regretted the words as soon as they spilled out. He was listening with such rapt attention that I’d forgotten about the cool image I should’ve been trying to cultivate. The urge to tell him what was bothering me had taken precedence.
Oliver’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. “You’re wrong, Ivy. You’re very special. I knew it as soon as I saw you last night.”
My pulse quickened. “You did?”
