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Drake simply nodded and lifted his glass in the air, his long hair falling into his eyes for a second before he brushed it back with his fingers. “Thanks.”
A man of few words, so I was learning.
The bartender stepped away, heading back toward the bar, and I noticed instantly how Drake sunk back into his seat as if in relief.
“You’re not really a people person, are you?”
He lifted the drink to his mouth—Hennessy, neat—which already told me a lot about my faux fiancé and sipped at the edge before setting it down again. “In general? No. People are horrible,” he answered with his brow pinched between his eyes, almost like he wanted to addduhat the end. One of my eyebrows curved upward, and I pressed my lips together, trying to contain my laughter. He must have caught it, though, because he let out a breath of air, and I caught the first sign of a smile pull at the corner of his mouth. “Sorry. I deal with a lot of people for work, and today, they were particularly fucking rage-inducing.”
The smile was instantly gone, replaced by a clenched jaw, but I could still feel the rough, gravelly tone of his voice vibrating in the air around me. It was low and masculine, the sound completely matching his features and demeanor to a T—the dark eyes, heavy brow, and square jaw that had the slightest smattering of bristles like he’d shaved yesterday but hadn’t had time this morning.
The feel of them brushing against my cheek as he’d lowered his mouth to my ear after our ‘proposal’ was etched permanently into my brain and had stirred something in my stomach I hadn’t felt for years.
Butterflies?
I could honestly say if I’d spotted Drake when he walked in, I’d have said for sure he wasn’t going to be the type to make my heart flutter and my stomach knot.
The expensive-looking sharp, white shirt, the Rolex, and gold chain all screamed wealthy businessman. Never my type, the kind of guy I actively avoided. But the tattoos, the long hair, the lack of any kind of wallet, cell phone, or keys—it all screamed something else.
What? I wasn’t sure.
But for the first time in a long time, I was actually eager to find out more about a man.
“Where’d you learn the proposal trick?” he questioned, relaxing back into the seat.
“It’s more knowledge than a trick, really. I worked in my fair share of bars in my early twenties,” I explained with a shrug. “It was like some unwritten rule for most places that if someone got engaged, you offered the couple free drinks.”
“I guess that means we make a pretty convincing couple.”
I scoffed loudly and dramatically swept a couple of rebellious hairs back from my face. “Ah, yes, I’m sure I do look like the kind of woman who would be dating a man with your rugged good looks dressed in almost a full suit.”
His eyebrow quirked and, for a second, the smile was back. “You ever heard about not judging a book by its cover?”
I visibly shuddered.
It came on so fast I couldn’t fight it.
Yup.
I knew the saying well.
It was a mistake I’d made before.
I took another large sip of my drink and placed the glass on the table. “Thank you for playing along with me,” I said while getting to my feet. The feelings I were getting from Drake were anything but negative or scary, but I suddenly had this horrible reminder that I’d been wrong before. “But maybe—”
“Tell me about your business.” I paused, my hands pressed to the table. He held my gaze as he swallowed back half the glass of Hennessy without flinching. “You mentioned it earlier.”
“And you heard it,” I answered with a whisper, slowly sinking back into my chair and allowing my head to fall to the side.
He let out a soft, sharp laugh which I felt right between my legs.
It was masculine and sexy, and when he caught my eye, I pressed my thighs together at the ignition of a gentle throb.
Who the hell was this man?
I eased back into my seat and cleared my throat. “Seedlessly Yours.”
He leaned in, his obvious curiosity sparking my delight and letting my apprehension melt away. His brow raised as if he was waiting for me to continue. “Seeds?”
