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Then he touches me on the forearm, then pulls back quickly, like that was inappropriate, and I notice everyone else from the meeting is now pushing their way out of the front door.
I quickly glance around to find all the offices empty, and all the lights off except for the ballet dancer Jenna, who is frantically leaping and pirouetting or whatever the hell she’s doing as classical music leaks out from behind her glass walls.
I’m practically alone with him.
“You do, huh?”
“What?” What did I say? I don’t remember.
“Like drummers?” he helps.
“Oh, well… sure. Doesn’t everyone?”
“No.” He laughs. “No. I’d say our likability is right up there with tuba players.”
“Tuba players.” I almost snort. “That’s funny. Every mother’s nightmare, right?”
“Yes,” he says, nodding his head. Smiling at me. And not the way he was smiling at everyone else, either. But the way he might smile at April.
“So you’re Miss Amherst?” he says. “Owner’s daughter.”
“Yes, that’s me. Miss Aria Amherst.”
“Which studio is yours?” he asks.
“Oh, it’s not—“ But I stop. Because I realize he knows who I am, but yet he doesn’t. He thinks I’m April. “It’s… not anything special. Just that cube down there. Third on the left. And yours is…” I find the empty one. “There. Three down and on the opposite side from… mine.”
Mine.
“Miss Amherst,” he says, leaning his head down a little down as he inches closer to me. “Would you like to have a drink with me?”
“No,” I say. Which makes him laugh. “I mean, no. I mean… no, but…” Jesus. I am so high-school right now. And he thinks I’m April. He thinks I’m some burgeoning photographer who needs a studio and is old enough to drink. Hell, old enough to be talking to him.
“No, but?” he prods. “You’ll take a raincheck? Or you’d like to have a coffee instead? Or—“
“Yes,” I say, brightening at his clever new offer. “Coffee! I can drink coffee.”
He laughs again. “OK. Then coffee it is. What’s good around here?”
“Nothing,” I say.
“Aria.” He laughs. “You’re killing me. This neighborhood is amazing. They have lots of great coffee shops.”
True. But they also know me. I come around here all the time with my family. And being seen alone with this man on a Friday night is just… hard nope.
“I mean, I’m tired of the Gingerbread, ya know? I live here”—God, saying that feels fantastic—“and work here, and you know, I like going other places.”
“You live around here?” he asks.
“Mmm-hmm. Yup. Just about two blocks over.”
He touches my face. Kinda caressing my cheek with the back of his knuckles. And suddenly I’m overwhelmed with feelings I’ve never felt before. Swoony feelings, and hot feelings, and throbby feelings.
“We could go there,” he offers.
And then I make a mistake. A very big mistake. I look up into his eyes and die a little. Die with the fantasy of taking a man—an older man. A much older man. Dressed up in a suit with a tie and actual cufflinks hiding peekaboo tattoos, and a drum set, or kit, or whatever you call it, waiting to be moved in to a cube down the hall from me to lead a secret drummer life at night, and—“OK,” comes out of my mouth.
“OK,” he says. “Lead on.”
CHAPTER FOUR – RYKER
She chats as we walk through the neighborhood. In fact, she never stops talking so I don’t have to say anything. She rattles off facts about the various restaurants and shops, telling me what’s good, or who sells what as we pass by. And I just get to look down at her small, petite body dressed up in that outfit that was clearly put together to drive men crazy.
When she stood up from the table and I realized she was wearing a black mini skirt with red sneakers—I chuckle as I look down at her feet—I wanted to bend her over the table in front of the entire board and take her from behind.
She is that fucking cute. Just plain adorable.
And she was the deciding vote. Garcia said it was close and if Miss Amherst hadn’t have voted yes, I would’ve been denied. So I should tell her thank you.
And oh, I plan on it. I plan on thanking her very much.
Then the way she teased me as she stood in the doorway. Peeking out at me like she was some sexy little secret I needed to figure out.
She won’t have a drink with me, and she won’t go for coffee in public, but she’ll take me back to her place.
Aria Amherst, you are a dream come true. The perfect one-night—
Oh, shit.
I can’t one-night-stand this girl! I have to see her—
No. Hold up. I do not have to see her. I won’t see her at all. I won’t see anyone, that was the whole point of offering up night hours only in the co-op.
