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I pick up my glass and take a sip, trying to give myself a moment to think. The drink is perfect, not that I'm surprised. Guy is an excellent bartender.
I look over the handsome stranger, curious what his price is. He doesn't strike me as harmless—far from it, actually. But nothing about him screams creep either. He's calm and collected, with an air of authority about him, as if he's used to calling the shots. I want to know more about him.
"What's your price?" I finally ask, proud when my voice doesn't shake.
"An evening seated across from you," he says, those blue eyes boring into mine. It should sound like a cheesy line, but coming from his lips, there is no bullshit in it. It's forthright, honest.
"What company?" I ask.
"I work for Blake Industries."
Whoa. If he works for Blake Industries, he wasn't bullshitting me when he said he was damn good. They're one of the biggest farm supply companies in the United States, manufacturing and supplying everything from tractors to grain silos to animal feed. Ever since Dorian Blake moved their headquarters to Tennessee six months ago, they've been splashed across the business page of every newspaper in the state. Their executive team is unmatched.
This man could probably teach me things I'd never learn sitting in a classroom. I don't want him to stay because of what I could learn from him, though. I want him to stay because, for the first time all night, I'm not thinking about the textbooks sprawled across my table or stressing about any of the things usually battling for my attention.
"And if I want to know more than just the name of your company?" I ask, certain he probably hears my heart beating.
"That'll cost you too, pretty baby."
"W-what will it cost me?"
"Nothing you don't want to give me," he murmurs.
"Like what?" I ask, tilting my head back to stare up at him.
"Your name."
"Piper."
"Piper," he growls, leaning in closer. His eyes roam across my face like he's eating up the sight of me. "Sweet little Piper."
"What's your name?"
"Cortez."
Of course he has a sexy name too.
"How old are you?"
"Thirty-seven."
"Do you come here often?"
"You haven't paid the price for that answer yet, sweet Piper." He leans closer, one arm on the back of the booth behind my head.
"Oh." I swallow hard, my entire body surging with heat. "What's the price?"
"An answer of my own," he says simply. "Do you belong to anyone, pretty baby?"
I shake my head.
It might be my imagination, but I think he growls thank God beneath his breath.
"I've never been here before tonight," he says. "But that's not really what you're asking me, is it?"
"I…"
"What you really want to know is if I spend a lot of time in bars hitting on beautiful women," he murmurs, his lips inches from mine. "You're dying to ask me if this is a habit or if you're different, aren't you?"
I am dying to ask that, but it seems like a rude question. It also seems like one I'm not so sure I'm prepared to have answered. If this is a habit, well, I'm pretty sure that's going to burst my bubble. And if this isn't a habit, well, that's going to lead to more questions. Do I want to know those answers?
Yes, a little voice whispers.
"This isn't a habit," he says as if reading my mind. "A new business partner drug me out here for a drink. I don't bar hop or do casual. I'm not married or in a relationship either. But I couldn't keep my eyes off you. Everyone in this bar is here for one reason, but not you. Why are you here?"
"The noise," I blurt, my eyes locked on his lips and the way they shape every word he speaks. "The library puts me to sleep, so I always study where there's noise."
"Why?"
"I have six little brothers and sisters."
"Jesus," he whispers. "And I thought my two were a pain in the ass."
I smile at that. "I wouldn't trade mine for anything, but when you grow up surrounded by noise, silence is unnatural," I say quietly. "As soon as it gets too quiet, I pass out."
"That would make studying hard."
