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He steps closer. “It’s a while since I kissed a girl.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
Bryn rubs his head and his playfulness drops. “Did I upset you that much?”
“I don’t like being played with. I’m not a toy.” I shiver against the December night and bury my hands into my coat pockets.
“I didn’t mean… I did all this to stick two fingers up at your bitchy friend and your ex. I wanted him to think about what he threw away.”
“You’re weird,” I retort and set off along the street.
“Let me take you home,” he calls after me.
“Oh? Not to your hotel?” I ask, sarcastically.
“Sure, if you want. The bar’s open. I reckon you could do with more wine.”
I pause and turn. “Am I not drunk enough for you to finish what you started?”
He approaches. “Avery, I have no need to get you drunk. I don’t hassle women into sex.”
“I guess you don’t need to.”
Bryn stands back and sweeps his hands through the air, down the length of his all too impressive body. “What do you think?”
What do I think? I think that his laidback exterior hides something and I want to know what that is.
“A drink at your hotel?” I ask.
“If that’s all you want,cariad.”
I straighten. “Don’t call me that. I know what the word means. I’m Welsh too, remember?”
“You prefer sweetheart?”
“Definitely not.”
“Bach?”
I pout. ‘Little one,’ like I’m a kid or something. “Sure, mountain man.”
He smirks. “Hill. My name means hill.”
“Bryn? You’re a mountain, not a hill.”
“Whatever. Feel free to climb me.” He shoves his hands in his jacket pockets, imitating me, and grins.
“I’m sorry,what?”
“Oh, you’re so cute.” Bryn picks me up in arms that could probably wrap twice around my waist, and lifts me so my face is level with his. “You’re half the size of me!”
“I am not half your size. Put me down.” I dig my nails into his hands and he drops me back to the floor. “And I am not cute. If you keep this up, you’ll discover how not-cute I am.”
Bryn laughs and rubs his mouth. “Sorry, one beer too many. But you are cu–” I jam a spiked heel onto his foot. “Jesus Christ!” he yells. “What was that for?”
“Not listening.” I hitch my handbag up my arm. “I changed my mind. Call me a taxi.”
“Come for a drink with me,” he says. “Don’t let them spoil your hot date with a rock star.”
