Page 22 of Taken With You

“I have a feeling I will.”

“Good.”

“It’s lovely in here,” Meadow said, looking around the place as we sat in the corner near the dais. The bar had dark lighting, with a gorgeous piano in the corner where Sam, the resident player, sang and did his thing.

“I come here every so often. I like the people.”

“And it’s a little bit different than the bar you work at.”

“Yeah, that, too. I love the Connolly Brewery. I love what it is and what they stand for and the people. It’s a great place. But, sometimes, it’s fun to do something a little different.”

She looked at me then as if searching for something on my face. I hoped she found it. Though I had no idea what it could be. “I like that, too.”

“Hey, Beck, you going to play for us tonight?” Sam asked into the microphone, and everyone looked over. I could feel the tips of my ears turn red, and Meadow looked at me, her eyes wide.

“You play?” she asked, grinning. “Really?”

“A little.”

“What do you say? Ask your girl there. I’m sure she’d love you to play.”

“Beck! Beck!” The others weren’t screaming it, just a few regulars saying my name as others started to look over and smile.

Damnit. I hadn’t expected this.

“Maybe another time,” I grumbled, trying to sound nice.

This was a damn classy place, after all, and I was on a date. Maybe I had made the wrong move bringing Meadow here.

“You should play.”

“Not tonight.” I looked over at her, trying to show her what I was thinking. Not that I knew what that was exactly.

“I’d like to see you play sometime.”

“Maybe our next date.”

She raised a brow. “So we’re going on another date?” she asked.

I let my cocky side out because it was easier to be that guy than the one who had no idea what he was doing. I grinned and leaned back in the booth as I reached forward a bit to brush my fingertips along hers. She didn’t pull her hand away. I counted that as progress.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s already in the cards.”

“Like I said, I have no idea how you can get through life with that ego of yours.”

If she only knew.

“I do okay.”

“I’m sure.”

The waitress came, and we ordered our drinks, me a water with a whiskey neat. She got the same.

“You like whiskey?” I asked, and she smiled.

“Sometimes. I like to try everything. At least, when I was younger. I had to try everything. Almost all at once. Now, I like to do a little at a time.”

That was the first time she’d ever mentioned her life before now, before meeting me. And I wanted to count that as progress, too. Only I didn’t know if she would ever open up fully.