open my carton and find lo mein noodles. “Good. She was picking up on things pretty quickly. I gave her something to practice until our next lesson.”
“She didn’t tell you anything embarrassing about me, did she?” he asks with a smile.
“Only that you think I’m going to be famous one day.” I offer him a smile.
He laughs and nods. “I do. There’s no way talent like yours is going to waste. And hell, maybe you can even score me some backstage passes when you’re in town.”
I laugh. “You got it.” I turn on the TV and we both sit, watching it and eating our food. “So, do you often randomly show up with Chinese food at 10 p.m. at the homes of women you’ve just slept with?”
He laughs. “No, this is a first. And, hopefully, not a last with you.” He looks at me from the corner of his eye with a grin in place, his hand frozen in midair as he holds his chopsticks out to take a bite.
I smile but don’t know how to reply to that. Once our food is gone, he helps me clean up our mess then pauses by the door. His eyes are looking me up and down—from my wet hair to my black painted toenails and everything in between. They linger a bit longer on my braless breasts and my bare legs. His jaw tenses and he wets his lips.
“Fuck it,” he says under his breath as he rushes to pull me against him. His lips find mine and his hands land on my ass, picking me up against him as he spins me around to press me up against the fridge. Everything that was just in my head is gone. I’m no longer concerned with how tired I am or that I have to work tomorrow. The stress of band practice falls away, as does the anxiety about this upcoming meeting. Everything is just gone—it vanished without a second thought the moment his lips found mine.
My legs wrap around his hips, more than happy to be back where we seem to be drawn to each other. He kisses me hard and fast, and when our kiss ends, we’re both breathless.
“Take me to bed, Daniel,” I whisper.
“I’m more than happy to,” he says, carrying me to my room.
Afterward, we’re both just lying in my bed with me in his arms, watching the lights dance across my ceiling from the outside world. “What made you want to get into law?” I ask, wanting to know more about him.
I feel him shrug the shoulder I’m nestled against. “I don’t know, really. My dad, his father, and his grandfather had all been in the furniture-making business. They were the work with your hands type, but that never called to me. I never had the urge to take over the family business, and I knew if I was going to get away from it without anyone getting hurt, it would have to be something they would deem worthy. So I picked a profession I knew they couldn’t turn down. Plus, if I had my law degree, I’d still be able to be employed by the company one way or another.”
“Do you regret it?”
“No, it really is something I enjoy doing. I mean, who doesn’t want to get paid big bucks to just stand around and argue with someone? So what made you choose music?”
“I didn’t. It chose me,” I state, feeling more relaxed and worry-free than I ever have before.
“What do your parents think?”
“My mom passed away from breast cancer when I was 10. At the time, she was just proud to see me do something I loved. And my dad has always been proud too. He didn’t try pushing me to do anything until I was about to graduate high school. Suddenly, music wasn’t good enough. He knew that my chances of making it were slim, and he wanted me to have something to fall back on. He said he wouldn’t be around forever to make sure I was taken care of, so he wanted to ensure I’d have everything I needed to take care of myself.”
“He sounds like a smart man.”
“He is,” I agree. “But at the time, I was young and determined to make it big. I kept my job at the store and took some business classes on the side. My boss, his friend, convinced him to let me see where the music could take me as long as I got a degree.