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“And what’s next?”
“Well, I can technically complete them in any order, but if I’m going chronologically…” I pause a moment to conjure the list in my mind, then say, “Next, I have to learn to play a musical instrument.”
“Really?” Javier’s dark eyes light up. “That’s right in my wheelhouse. I don’t play an instrument myself, but I’m surrounded by the world’s most talented musicians.” He motions toward the stage with a sweeping gesture, and I have to agree. The collective talent is seriously impressive. From the saxophone to the clarinet to the piano, each instrument appears to be an extension of the artists, as though they each exist to perform this one song, in this one moment. I’ve seen my share of live performances and can tell when someone is born to play.
“Which instrument do you want to learn?” Javier asks.
“Honestly, I haven’t decided. Most likely whichever is the easiest. I’m not musically gifted.”
“I doubt that,” Javier says. “I bet you excel at anything you put your mind to.”
“That’s very kind of you to say.” I force a smile. Although well-meant, I’ve never appreciated that particular sentiment. It implies that the only thing standing between a person and success is effort. But that isn’t always true, is it?
Javier continues to smile at me, as if he finds even my silence fascinating.
Ethan makes this weird cough-like throat-clearing sound, and the annoyance in his gaze is unmistakable. He’s probably irritated on Harper’s behalf. But I don’t think Javier is actually flirting with me. He’s just being friendly.
“I’ll tell you what.” Javier pulls his wallet out of his back pocket and removes a business card. “Let’s exchange numbers. I’ll arrange a lesson with one of my musicians.”
“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that,” I say quickly, shooting Ethan a glance I’m hoping communicates,Calm down, I’m not trying to highjack Harper’s date, so he can wipe the indignant look off his face.
“You’re not asking, I’m offering. Actually I’m insisting. And trust me, the guys will be fighting over the opportunity. Who could resist giving a private lesson to a beautiful woman such as yourself?”
My cheeks are burning now, and although I’m avoiding Ethan’s gaze, I feel his disapproval radiating across the table. But there’s no way Javier is on a date with Harper—perfection personified—and has decided to hit on me. He’s simply being nice to one of her friends. “I, uh, don’t have a business card.” Even if his offer is harmless, I don’t plan on taking him up on it. It would be too weird.
“Here,” he says, retrieving his cell phone from the breast pocket of his sports coat. “Program your number, and I’ll give you a call when I set something up.”
I hold the phone in my hand, unsure what to do. I’m convinced Javier is merely being magnanimous, but something about it still doesn’t feel right. And Ethan’s critical glare isn’t helping.
Luckily, Brynn and Harper return from the bar in the nick of time, carrying a bottle of Dom Pérignon and five glasses. At the last second, Harper quickens her step ever so slightly so she reaches the table first.
“Sorry we took so long, the bar is packed.” She sidles into the booth beside Ethan, and hands him the bottle of bubbly with a smile that’s equally effervescent.
“No worries,” Javier says breezily, shifting a smidge closer, his arm still draped behind me. I get a strong whiff of his spicy cologne. “We were just getting to know each other.”
“Excellent!” Harper’s gaze briefly flickers between me and Javier before she fixes her dazzling grin on Ethan. “Then let’s continue, shall we?”
Suddenly, reality hits me like a projectile champagne cork to the forehead, and I feel like the densest person in the world. This was her plan all along, wasn’t it? Operation Land a Date with Ethan Delaney is in full swing.
Which means Javier isn’therdate… he’smine.
CHAPTERNINE
“So, Javier seems nice.” Brynn wiggles her eyebrows over the brim of her mug, both elbows propped on the smooth marble of the kitchen island.
“Uh-huh,” I murmur noncommittally and take a sip of coffee.
“You don’t think he’s too… slick?” Ethan slides fresh-off-the-griddle pancakes onto each of our plates, steam still curling from the delicately golden crusts.
Between the three of us, he’s the only one who can cook, and makes a habit of fixing a humongous breakfast every Saturday, which Brynn and I eagerly devour.
“If by slick you mean ridiculously handsome, charming, and successful, then yes.” She spins on her barstool to face me. “What do you think, Quince?”
“I think…” I take another sip of coffee then hop off the stool. “I think I need a refill.”
Brynn groans. “Quit avoiding the question. And please tell me you gave him your number.”
Ethan casts me a curious glance, and I look away, my attention focused on the aromatic Colombian roast filling my mug. “I did.”
