Rock Star's Girl (A Hollywood Dating Story #1) - Jennifer Farwell Page 0,4
in my life. That conversation is closed for the rest of dinner, my dear.”
He contemplated her answer. “So we can talk about it again over dessert?”
“Jesse, for the love of—” She cut herself off when she saw he was laughing. “Just promise me you’ll behave for at least the main course, okay?”
He put his hands up in mock-surrender. “You’re right. I’ll probably get more out of you after you have another glass of wine, anyway.”
“Don’t count on it,” she said, wrapping her fingers around the stem of her glass.
“We’ll see.” He raised his glass to her, then took a sip of his drink. She watched the Adam’s apple of his throat bob while he swallowed. “So if we can’t talk about your boys, I guess that leaves your career. How’s my working girl?”
She tried not to grimace. Work was the last thing she wanted to think about during a night out on the town. Mainly because she’d spent every night this week trying to find new site advertisers for Zeeked to make up for one of her longest-standing clients going out of business and dropping their campaign, and because she’d gotten up at five o’clock this morning to finish a freelance assignment so she could be at dinner now.
“Everything is great,” she lied. “No complaints.”
He nodded. “You’re taking time out for you though, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“Every time I talk to you, you’re always working.” He reached his hand across the table and gently touched her arm. “Get out there and have some fun.”
“I have deadlines. When you run your own site, readers and advertisers have certain expectations for you to deliver. And when you freelance, editors are kind of big on getting your finished assignments on time.” Her lips relaxed into a wry smile.
“I know. I just get concerned.” He kept his hand on her arm. She fought to keep her fingers unclenched and her shoulders relaxed.
“About what?” She moved her arm out from under his hand and reached for her glass.
“That you’re hiding from your life by getting overly involved with your work.”
She started to speak, then stopped. Her brow crinkled while she considered what he’d said. It was true that the extra hours she’d had to work lately had been cutting into her energy for going out. Even though she knew Jesse struggled with paying his bills while trying to forge a career in the music industry, she still found it difficult to explain the obligations that came with keeping Zeeked a success and making rent each month.
A rectangular white plate appeared on the table in front of her. On it were cut pieces of a California roll. A second plate containing a tuna roll followed seconds later. Saved again. Jesse picked up a ceramic serving pot and reached over to fill a small dish in front of her with soy sauce.
Emily picked up a piece of California roll. “I want to know more about this Santa Monica girl who broke your heart. Spill.”
“Did I say she broke my heart? Hmm.” Jesse plucked a piece of tuna roll from its serving dish, looking thoughtful.
“You can admit you’re human, you know.”
He tilted his head, clearly puzzled. “What does that mean?”
“I mean that girls can affect you.”
“Of course they can affect me,” he replied, sounding matter-of-fact.
“Really.”
“Yes, really. What makes you think that they don’t?”
“Well, I’ve known you for four years, and unless there’s something you haven’t told me, you haven’t had a girlfriend in those four years.” She held her plate out to him, nodding toward the platter of cut rolls at his end of the table. “Tuna roll, please?”
He shrugged and used his chopsticks to place the roll on her plate. “The band comes first in my life, Em. You know that.”
“Now who’s hiding?” she teased.
“When have I ever hidden from a girl?”
“I can’t speak for others, but I guess that’s true. There’s more to it than make-out-and-run, though. You know that, right?”
“I really can’t see what’s wrong with that. After all, I do it so well.” He winked at her.
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, you do,” she agreed. “Don’t you ever just wish for something more, though? When you click with someone on a few levels, why run from it?”
While she’d tried to make her question sound like an offhand remark, she knew she’d failed when Jesse stopped with his chopsticks in mid-air and lowered them to rest on his plate.
“Is that a rhetorical question, or a question about you and me?”