Page 29 of The Little Shop of Curiosities Cursed Object 1, The Music Box

“What Tris is trying to say,” Danny interrupts, “is that we unintentionally double-booked ourselves, but I hope that you won’t mind. Sam’s a good guy. He’s only recently moved to London from Leeds, and today’s his birthday. I didn’t want him to spend it on his own, and he’s a stubborn arse.”

“Stubborn arse?” a deep voice with a hint of humour threaded through it rumbles behind me. “Sounds like you’re talking about me.”

I turn around and suck in a sharp breath. The man in front of me is all sexy and mussed up. His shirt, peeking out from beneath his open coat, is slightly wrinkled, the collar carelessly unbuttoned, and his tie is loosened. His hands are tucked casually in his pockets, and his shaggy black hair looks as if he’s been running his fingers through it. There’s dark stubble across his jaw and a scar running from the corner of his left eye down his cheek. His eyes though. They’re so dark you almost can’t see his pupils.

He’s gorgeous.

My heart starts pounding, and a jolt of shock hits me before a low hum of arousal threads through my veins, warming my blood and causing my skin to flush.

I’ve always suspected I was probably gay. Women didn’t interest me at all, whereas I’ve always found men objectively attractive, but I’ve never felt that pull of interest toward anyone in particular. I’ve wondered if I might be ace or demi because I’ve never really been interested in sex. But this man in front of me now is pushing buttons I didn’t know I had.

“Sam,” Danny chuckles. “This is Harrison. Harrison, this is Sam.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Harrison.” He takes my hand, and I’m too thrown to do anything but let him.

Damn it, even his voice is a low, sexy rasp that hits somewhere south of my belly. Those dark eyes track over my face, lingering on my lips and then skimming down to my throat as I swallow tightly.

“I’ve always had a weakness for freckles,” he murmurs, a small smile curving the corner of his mouth, and for the first time in my life, I want to lean forward and press my mouth to someone’s. I want to see if his lips taste good, to see if they’re as soft and inviting as they look.

I’m so spellbound by this man that it takes me more than a moment to realise he’s holding my hand and I can’t feel anything from him. My gaze dips to our hands and then to his face. I can’t sense anything from him at all. He’s like Tristan, a blank void. Only with Tristan, it’s cool and calming, a welcome respite from the chaotic thoughts of others, but with Sam, it crackles and sparks with an electrical undercurrent. Alarm bells sound in my head, and I feel my spine stiffen as I tear my hand from his.

“Oh, I think our table’s ready,” Tristan interrupts, but as his gaze snags on me, his brow wrinkles. “Are you alright, Harrison? You look very flushed. It is a bit warm in here. Do you need a drink?”

“No, I…” I shake my head and look for the quickest exit out of this place away from this trio of strange men. “I shouldn’t…”

“Please stay,” Tristan says softly, seeing me eye the door.

“Tristan,” Sam rumbles as he continues to watch me. “Why don’t you and Danny go and take a seat. Give us a moment?”

Tristan’s gaze turns to me, and I nod, my hackles rising under Sam’s intense scrutiny.

Danny tugs Tristan’s hand, and a server leads them through into the restaurant. I glance back to Sam and we stand in silence.

“I make you nervous,” he says finally. I wish he’d just stop talking altogether because that fucking voice of his is going straight to my dick, which seems to have suddenly woken from a twenty-year coma.

“Maybe I just don’t like you,” I say stiffly. I have no idea what to do with my body malfunctioning.

His mouth twitches in amusement, then he lets out a little sigh. “Look, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, which for some reason I seem to be. Is it the scar?”

“No.” I frown. “Why would that make me uncomfortable?”

He shrugs. “Some people react to it and make assumptions about who I am, about the type of person I am.”

“People are idiots.”

“More often than not.” He smiles, and for a second I’m slightly dazed, my equilibrium off, like the ground has shifted under my feet. “But then that’s the human condition, isn’t it? Abject stupidity. It’s what makes us so loveable.”

I huff quietly.

“Look,” he says, “like I said, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. You were expecting to spend the evening with Danny and Tristan, so I’ll just tell them I got a work call.”

“At this time of the evening?” I ask, unable to help myself.

“I keep unusual hours.” He shrugs again before carefully studying my face. “It was nice to meet you, Harrison.” The way he says my name feels loaded somehow. “If you could tell Danny I’m sorry and that I’ll make it up to them next week.”

Despite the rain hammering viciously at the windows, he turns toward the door. For fuck’s sake, why did he have to be so nice about it? Why couldn’t he just be an arsehole? Is that too much to ask? Now my conscience has got me in a choke hold and is about to take me down in a classic wrestling move that would make Dwayne Johnson proud.

“Wait,” I blurt, and he looks back at me. “Stay, it’s fine. I’m just…”