Like whenever I need to stay in town, I’ve got a room at City Towers. No questions asked.”
I look his way again. “Wow! That’s pretty generous of Bryce.”
“He’s a good bloke.” Will’s misty eyes meet mine. “Been through a lot though; shit ain’t been easy. Deserves everything he’s achieved.”
I rest my hands in my lap. “Carly speaks very highly of him too.”
Will chuckles and focuses on the road again. “It’s the smirk.”
“The smirk?”
“Yeah, the man does this thing with his face that makes all the women drop their panties.”
I laugh. “Sounds… interesting.”
“You’ll see soon enough.”
“How?”
“We have a gig soon, and you’re coming.”
“I’m coming?”
He glances my way, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Not how I wanted to hear you say that for the first time, but I’ll take it.”
Drawing in a deep breath, I bite back my smile and shake my head as I exhale. “Very funny.”
“Sweetheart”—his voice deepens—“when I make you come for the first time, it’ll be far from funny.”
I legitimately squirm, the muscles between my legs pulling tight. “Okay,” I choke out, “let’s change the subject.” I swallow. “So, your band… none of you play for a living?”
He chuckles. “No. Never have. Bryce is made of money. Derek’s got some coin too, and not to mention is high up in the MFB. Matt’s in the army. And I’m expanding my business. Live Trep is just time with the boys.”
“Live Trep? Is that the name of your band?”
“Yeah. Pretty much.”
“Isn’t that woman from Opals in the band too?”
“You mean Lucy?”
“I think so. The one that looks like Belle.”
His eyebrows draw together. “Whose Belle?”
“From Beauty and the Beast.”
When his baffled expression doesn’t change, I offer a different explanation. “The one who likes the Slippery Nipple shots.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, that’s Lucy. She’s one of the boys. Likes chicks not dicks.”
My jaw drops. “Will!”
“What?” He full-on belly laughs. “Man, you offend easily.”
I cross my arms. “I do not.”
“Yeah, you do.”
The song changes, and I recognise the new one instantly so lean forward and turn it up, ending our discussion.
“You like The Police?”
I nod. “Sure. ‘Every Breath You Take’ was my parents’ wedding song.”
Will’s eyes stretch, like really stretch, but he doesn’t say anything.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He doesn’t look my way.
I point at him. “That wonky smile of yours is not nothing.”
He finally glances at me, his expression remorseful. “‘Every Breath You Take’ is a fucked-up choice for a wedding song.”
“What? No, it’s not. It’s a love song.” I press my hand to my heart. “Every breath you take… that’s so romantic.”
“Yeah, if you’re a stalker.”
“What?”
“It’s a stalker song, Elizabeth.”
Covering my mouth with my hand, I mumble, “Nooo. Really?”
“Afraid so. Sting wrote it about his ex-wife at the time.”
“Shit! That’s not good.” I try not to laugh. “Every time my parents hear that song, they sing it to each other so lovingly.”
He glances my way again and shrugs. “Songs can be interpreted in different ways. I wouldn’t worry about it.”
I nod. “Good. But whatever you do, don’t tell my parents. It’ll crush them.”
He winks. “I won’t… when I meet them.”
Will focuses on the road again, and it takes me a second or so to realise what I just said. Crap!
“So when will that be?” he asks.
“When will what be?”
“When do I get to meet your parents?”
I laugh, which comes out more like the noise Sasha’s squeaky dog toy makes. “Who said you’re going to meet my parents?”
“You just did.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“I did not.”
He gives me the ‘end of story’ look. “It’s just a matter of time.”
Sucking on my tooth, a smile creeps onto my face when I realise I kinda like his cockiness. He’s confident in an endearing way, and that speaks a lot about a person.
Deciding not to argue, I concede. “Tonight was nice, Will,” I say, sincerely. “I haven’t been out like this in a long time, so thank you.”
“My pleasure. Next time will be even nicer.”
Closing my eyes for the smallest of seconds, the screech of windscreen wipers scraping the windscreen even louder than before, I rest my head on the headrest. “Who says there’s gonna be a next time?”
“There’ll be a next time. I nearly died for you. The least you can do is give me two dates.”
I pry an eye open. “You did not nearly die.”
He runs his hand through his hair and flips some of it to the side, revealing a small shaved area with stitches. “I have a battle scar.”
I sit up straight and reach out, barely grazing my fingertip over