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“I give you a kiss?” she said dryly and then laughed at her own suggestion. “Not the type, pretty boy.”
Between the din of the bar and the sound of his heartbeat in his ears, he had to shift into the seat beside her to make sure he didn’t miss anything she said. “Didn’t take you for it.”
“Hm.”
“If I get it right, you can compliment me on my set,” Rex said. “Even if you didn’t like it.”
Isabella lifted the remnants of her drink to her lips. Smiled the kind of smile that would make a man afraid to lose her. The tip of her pink tongue slid across her lower lip. “Fine. You have a deal. But if you guess too old, you’ll make me cry.”
Rex laughed and leaned his elbows on the bar. “Okay, let me take you in.”
Isabella slumped forward, jutting her neck out, trying to make herself look like a gremlin. “Here, this will help.”
If it was supposed to help, Rex didn’t know how. Because all it did was give him a better look at her cleavage and accentuated her small round belly that disappeared when she sat up straight. No gray hairs. Plush skin. Rex bid his eyes not to go to the press of her thick thighs, the thin line leading under her minidress so beautiful he could cry. And write songs about it. Twenty-seven, he thought. And to be complimentary, he took it down two years. “Twenty-five.”
She sat up straight. “You’re such a liar.”
“I’m not!” Only a little one.
She shook her head. “You owe me that drink.”
He snapped his fingers as if that wasn’t what he wanted to happen. “Damn. I’m a poor musician. Take pity.”
“I’m sure you’re being paid with a covered bar tab,” she said drolly. Besides, a cheap vodka soda won’t break the bank.
Rex grinned. She was whip-smart. Clever. Didn’t take shit. And he liked that. He was so used to giving shit that he hadn’t realized how boring it had become.
Meanwhile, Isabella was watching his hands as he waved down the bartender, gestured toward her, and pulled at the edge of his seat to get closer. God, he was cute. And… young.
“So how old are you actually?” he asks.
Deep breath. It’s no big deal. “I’m thirty.”
The man’s eyes bulged. “No way.”
“Yeah. Way.”
“You look great for your –”
She covered her ears. “Don’t say for your age.”
“Sorry, sorry. You look great,” the man repeated. She noticed how his eyes fell to her breasts just for a moment. And she didn’t mind. “Period. End of sentence.”
Isabella tucked her hair behind one ear and watched the bartender scooping ice into a new glass. “And you guys were really good.”
“Hey, you don’t have to lie, I lost the bet,” the man waved his hand.
“Not lying. I really enjoyed it.”
The man’s eyes, even in the low bar lighting, were a gorgeous green, unlike anything she’d seen before. “Well, good. I was hoping you were enjoying it.”
Perfectly timed, the bartender returned with their drinks so she could hide her swoon.
She thought they’d locked eyes a few times while he was on stage, but she wasn’t sure.
Now, all was clear.
He’d chosen her.
