Just One Kiss (Very Irresistible Bachelors #2) - Layla Hagen Page 0,5
about to give in.
“You win,” she whispered. I smiled triumphantly. Her voice bordered on disbelief, but that brilliant smile was a sure sign that she liked my balls-to-the-walls approach to... everything.
We climbed on barstools, looking at the cocktail list. The beauty of not being able to drive in Manhattan was that you didn’t have to worry about drinking and driving.
I was close enough to smell that intoxicating mix of flowers and cinnamon again. Perfumes weren’t something I usually noticed, but hers was messing with my senses. She was messing with my senses. Everything from her unassuming beauty to her showing up here to buy me a drink surprised me.
“What are we drinking?”
“You’re trusting me to pick your drink?” I teased.
“You do know this place better than I do. Plus, I think you’re trustworthy.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Half my family would disagree with you.”
“And the other half?”
“Would probably tell you to wait until the end of the evening to decide if I’m trustworthy or not.”
“Oh, crap. I’m in big trouble, huh?”
I wiggled my eyebrows.
“Huge.”
She shook her head but didn’t say anything.
We ended up ordering Mojitos—the Northern Lights made the best one in the city.
“So how large is your family?” Heather asked after a few drinks. The crowd in the bar thinned even more, but honestly, I was barely aware of what was going on around us. She was just too captivating.
“Two sisters, two brothers. Well, three. We have a cousin here too, but I consider him like a brother.”
“I see. So three versus two, huh? And you don’t think the balance would tip in your favor?”
“That should tell you something.”
She whistled loudly. “I don’t know, Ryker. I think this is more than I can handle.”
“Oh, you’re handling me just fine.” I tapped my temple. “Ah, forgot to add Mom to the mix. She’d definitely be on the team warning you off.”
“Ouch. So not even your folks think you’re trustworthy?”
“Unfortunately not.”
She held her drink up and we clinked glasses.
“Do you have another set tonight?” she asked.
“Yes, but later on.”
“I like to hear you play. You’re very talented.”
“Thank you.”
“How long have you been doing this?”
“All in all, about eight years, but I’ve taken breaks.”
“That’s a commitment.”
I liked Heather. It was so easy to talk to her. I realized she probably thought I was some artist living on tips, and I couldn’t rectify that right now. Working my occupation as a venture capitalist in the conversation would make me sound like a douchebag bragging about his job.
When her glass was empty, she looked at it regretfully. “I need to go.”
“I disagree.”
“Ryker....”
“You said you like to hear me play. I still have that one set coming up.”
“I know, but it’s late.”
It was barely nine.
“What’s your favorite song? I’ll convince the guys to play it.”
Her mouth formed an O. “Are you trying to trick me into staying?”
“Yes. I’d try to do it with food, but they only serve burgers around here, and they’re nothing to brag about. Don’t tell anyone I said that, or they’ll kick me out of here.”
“I’ll keep your secret.”
“So. Favorite song.” I slid off my chair too, stepping right in front of her. I needed to win her over. No way was I ready for my time with her to end.
“I really can’t. I’m sorry.”
For the first time ever, I was tempted to ditch the guys, just to spend time with her, walk her home, whatever. But I couldn’t let the guys down, and I had the feeling that Heather wouldn’t want me to. This was New York City. Letting a stranger walk you home could be dangerous.
“How guilty do you feel?” I asked.
She frowned. “Huh?”
“Guilty enough to give me your phone number?”
Her frown melted, giving way to a smile. She rattled off her number, and I immediately typed it on my phone. The guys called me on the stage.
“When are you picking up your guitar from the repair shop?” she asked.
“On Monday at seven. Why?”
“I’ll come with you. I’m paying for that.”
“Not what we agreed on earlier.”
She shrugged, smiling. “I was just pretending to agree. Thought you’d be more willing to play along after a drink.”
“See you on Monday, then. I’ll text you the name and address of the repair shop,” I said, walking backward toward the stage. Laughing, I realized she was just as good at getting her way as I was. I still wasn’t going to let her pay for it, but she’d just given me the perfect excuse to see her again.