“For what?”
“Thinking about buying a business here,” Ramsey said.
“What kind of business? You want me to buy your story, you gotta offer a few details.”
“He’s a tough critic,” Ramsey observed, grinning. He sounded delighted. Nate was trying to feel less delighted by this fact.
This guy wasn’t anyone’s happily-ever-after.
But Nate was having a good time. And there was the added bonus of getting to look at him a little longer.
“You’re telling me you’re not capable of doing any better?” Nate wondered. But he knew the answer to his question before he even asked it. Undoubtedly Ramsey was used to getting by on his drop-dead looks. But he was smart too. That much was obvious, if you were paying any attention at all.
And Nate sure was.
“A bar. Considering buying into a bar. Cool place.”
“Not this bar then,” Nate joked.
“Nope. Not this bar. Maybe I’m doing some research, scoping out the competition.”
“Trying to lure the bartender away?”
Ramsey chuckled deeply and it pulled, sickly sweet, at the feeling at the base of Nate’s stomach. This guy was trouble.
Nate should walk away.
“You assume I could. Maybe Nicky likes working here, working the crowd, a bit.”
“He tried to work you,” Nate said.
Ramsey didn’t look even the tiniest bit sorry about this. There was only frank acceptance in his expression. “Yeah.”
“So are you gonna invest in this bar?” Nate asked.
“Jury’s still out,” Ramsey said. “I like the concept. It’s solid. Business plan’s good. But I wanna be a little more hands-on, and I’m not sure ownership would be into that.”
“Why?”
“Why are they against it?”
“Why do you want to be?” Nate shouldn’t find Ramsey fascinating. Or, maybe heshould. Maybe he’d have to be dead not to find this guy fascinating. The problem was more extricating himself before fascination was all he felt.
Before he built a castle in the sky he’d be alone in once morning hit.
“Ah, well. Kind of at a loose end at the moment.” Ramsey fluttered his eyelashes. “How was that?”
“Pretty good. Decent enough.”
Ramsey pouted, which shouldn’t have been attractive, but with his face and his lips and his eyes, he could do anything he wanted and still make it attractive.
Nate wondered if that was ever a curse, or Ramsey only saw it as a blessing.
“How about this one?” Ramsey said. “I’m a professional athlete.”
Nate tensed. Maybe Ramsey knew what he was, after all. But he forced the tension out of his shoulders. “Yeah? Which sport? Professional eyelash batting?”
“Hey,” Ramsey retorted without much heat.
