“The right woman?” he echoed. “And who might that be?”
I certainly wasn’t suggesting myself, if that’s what he thought. “I don’t know, someone who doesn’t care about your money. A girl who has her priorities straight, who wants the same things you do.” I glanced around. “Who understands your lifestyle and likes her own company enough that she could handle you being on the road a good chunk of the year.”
“You’re right, that does sound pretty perfect.” His eyes were downcast when he said, “If I had it to do all over again, I’d probably have picked someone like that from the start.” His eyes finally met mine when he said, “And she’d have wanted kids, because…” His voice cracked, surprising me, “Cause that’s probably my biggest regret. Not having kids.”
Aww, my heart broke for him, because he really believed he no longer had that option. “Dade, listen to me.” I stepped up to him, taking the beer bottle out of his hand and setting it down on the counter before I closed my fingers around his chin, forcing him to look at me. “I know I don’t know you all that well, but I don’t have to.” I tapped his chest. “I see what’s in your heart. You’re a good man. You deserve to be happy. Don’t let those bitches or the goddamn rags steal that from you.”
“Your turn,” he whispered softly, his eyes still trapping mine. “Tell me about your ideal man.”
“Oh, I, uh…” I took a step back, trying to remember how to breathe. “I’m honestly not sure I have one.”
“Then let me take a stab at it.” He crossed his arms, studying me. “You were pretty accurate with mine, let’s see if I’m half as good as you are.”
Since I had nothing to lose, I raised my hand, gesturing to him. “By all means, have at it.”
“He’s creative.” He bit his lip, his eyes travelling down my body. “Fun, adventurous.”
I laughed, before clapping my hand over my mouth because I was pretty sure he’d picked up on the adventurous part from our bedroom antics. His dirty smirk told me I was right, before I said, “Sorry, you’re off to a good start. Go on.”
“He’s a tough guy. He’d have to be to stand up to your old man.”
Yeah, I wasn’t noticing his bulging, inked biceps at all when he said that. “Uh huh. What else?”
“He has to have a good sense of humour because you love to laugh.”
I’d never had that in a relationship before and hearing him say it made me realize how much I wanted someone I could laugh with. “Hmm, right again. You’re pretty good at this, Jarvis.”
“You want someone who’ll take care of you…” When I started to protest, he said, “I’m not talking about money, Charli. I’m talking about having someone to lean on, like when your dad was in the hospital.” His eyes were intense when he said, “You can’t tell me it didn’t hurt when Knox showed up to comfort your sister, and you had no one.”
I sucked in a breath, because I never would have told anyone that I’d fought back tears watching my sister with the man she loved. I was so happy that they’d finally admitted their feelings, after years of friend-zoning each other, but it made me realize how much I wanted what they had.
“And you want someone who is man enough to let you take care of him.”
Again, he wasn’t talking about money. I could tell that he’d touched on something deeper, a secret longing to be strong, with a man who was even stronger. “How do you know that?”
“Because that’s what you wanted to do for me last night,” he said, his voice low and intimate. “You actually said that when you were leading me up to the bedroom, that you wanted to help me get out of my head for a while. That you wanted to help me relax, to take care of me.”
My cheeks burned as the memory of those words filtered through my mind. Damn. I’d said exactly that… that I wanted to take care of him. What the hell was that about? I barely knew this man, yet I felt like I’d known him for years. As a teenager, locked away in my bedroom, staring at his pictures, listening to his songs, watching his interviews. Learning about what made him special.
Ugh. I was creeping myself out. I wasn’t some obsessed fan who’d pulled a fast one to get close to him. I was someone who’d met him by coincidence and just happened to enjoy his music. Okay, so maybe I’d had a celebrity crush, but that was totally normal. It’s not like I stalked the guy on social media or sent him cryptic emails about how we belonged together.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning. “You have this look on your face, like you’re pissed off about something.”
Ugh. How the hell could he read me like that? He was an intuitive guy, I reasoned, like most creative types. “I guess I’m a little disgusted with myself.” Full disclosure, because I had nothing to hide, if it embarrassed me to admit the truth.
“I guess what you just said kind of weirded me out a little, that’s all.”
“What’re you talkin’ about?”
“I don’t even know you.” I narrowed my eyes, daring him to challenge me. “I’m not supposed to care enough to want to make you feel better. I shouldn’t give a shit how you feel.” I was gesturing toward him, self-disgust dripping from every word. “The only reason I do, I guess, is because this stupid crush I’ve had on you forever makes me think I know you, but I don’t.”
“Why does it make you angry?” He took a step closer, closing his hands around my upper arms. “Why is it so hard to admit that you had a thing for me, even before we met?”
“Because it’s stupid and childish, and I’m neither.” It wouldn’t be so bad if I’d let it die like any teenage fangirl crush should, but I’d remained a fan of his music and continued going to his concerts like an idiot, hoping he’d notice me. Except he did notice me. He’d even had someone go after me. Why?
He picked me up, depositing me on a stool at the breakfast bar as I yelped in surprise.
“Listen to me.” His voice was stern, and his eyes were dark and searching when he said, “I’ve been surrounded by groupies for a long time. I can sniff one out a mile away. And sweetheart, you ain’t no groupie. And I’d never mistake you for one.”
