The Single Life with Zola Patterson Part 2 - Danielle Allen Page 0,13
the talent they attracted rivaled most music venues in the country. The DJ on the stage was playing something I’d never heard of, but the beat was infectious.
“I see you moving already,” Saint commented as I walked to the beat.
“I can’t help it,” I told him.
“Well let me help you move out the way,” he joked, resting his free hand on my lower back and guiding me to the left.
I glanced behind me and saw two men who were definitely checking me out. A group of women rushed into the venue seconds after we moved.
Was I in the way or was he staking his claim? Or both?
Usually a move like that would’ve caused me to create space because of my ‘single until I’m not’ motto. But the subtly of his actions and the nonchalant way he kept his hand on the small of my back as he navigated us through the crowd didn’t bother me at all. In fact, I welcomed his touch.
“We’re right up there,” he said, still guiding me toward the front. As soon as we walked up the five steps that led to mezzanine seating, he took his hand off me.
Hmm.
I glanced back at him and he smiled.
I guess it was just to guide me.
Before I had a chance to process how I felt about that, we’d made it to the section.
“This is us,” Saint said, gesturing to the two cushioned seats.
I looked back at him and slipped off my jacket. “I see you, Mr. Anderson.”
He let out a low whistle. “I see you, too.” His eyes swept my body from head to toe. “And wow.”
Basking in the way he looked at me, I draped the Italian leather on the arm of the chair. “Thank you.”
He took a deep breath before he blinked away the look I saw in his eyes. “Can I get you a drink?”
“A water, please.”
“I’ll be right back,” he informed me before heading to the bar.
I looked around and watched people mill around the open floor. There were no chairs on the floor of The Music Room and events were always general admission. Had I known we were sitting in the mezzanine section with a private bar and bathroom area, I would’ve worn the knee-high spiked heel boots.
Now that would’ve gotten a real wow out of him, I thought with a coy smile playing at my lips.
“For you,” Saint stated as he handed me the bottle of water.
“Thank you.” I kept my eyes on him as he sat down. “What are you drinking?”
“It’s a hard apple cider.” He took a sip from the cup. “I only drink it from here.”
“Is it any good?”
“I’ve had it a couple places and I don’t really fuck with it from anywhere but here.” Holding my gaze, he took a gulp. “You want to try it?” he offered.
I studied him for a few seconds before shrugging. “Why not?”
He handed me his cup and I tasted it.
“Not bad.” I handed it back to him. “It does have a nice flavor.”
He sat back in his chair. “Do you want me to get you one?”
“I’m good with water. But maybe later. Thank you.”
“Of course. But um, don’t forget that if you like the show tonight, I win,” Saint reminded me with a grin.
“Ah yes,” I intoned. “We still need to finalize what our actual bet is.”
“Whatever you want is fine.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Whatever I want?”
“Whatever you want. The only catch is that whatever you win will be what I win, too.”
“Okay.” I looked around the room before I set my sights back on him. “If I win, you must surprise me with the most romantic gesture you can think of. And if I lose, I will do the same.”
A slow smile spread across his face. He stuck out his hand and we shook on it.
“And I know you’re capable of doing it big.” I gestured around us. “You went all out.”
“I’m glad you like the accommodations.”
I searched his eyes. “Seriously. I’m not sure how much this section put you back, but I was fully prepared to stand all night.” I pointed to my shoes and then met his gaze again. “You didn’t have to do all this, but I appreciate it.”
He finished the rest of his drink and then leaned forward. “I’m going to be honest with you,” he started.
I leaned forward, meeting him over our shared armrest. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
A smile played at the corners of his mouth. “I reserved the section and took the