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I loved being on stage, but I’d never wanted to leave it more than I wanted to now. I didn’t want to lose her again. I kept my eyes trained on her, ready to follow her if she left.
When the set was over, I practically jumped off the stage, making a beeline for her. She didn’t move. Instead, her smile widened.
“Mystery girl,” I exclaimed when I reached her. Damn, she was even more beautiful than I remembered. I hadn’t looked close enough before to notice her sexy curves. She was wearing a tight dress that teased enough of her cleavage to tempt me to look more, but I fought to maintain eye contact.
She laughed softly. “What?”
“I don’t know your name.”
“Heather.”
“I’m Ryker.”
“I know.”
“Oh?”
“I asked the manager about you.”
“Music to my ears.”
“I feel guilty about that. Is it the one the beer spilled over?” She pointed to my guitar.
“No, that’s in a repair shop.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry. My guy says he can fix it.”
“Well, I feel guilty anyway.”
“Not your fault. It’s that douchebag’s.”
She lowered her gaze, shrinking into herself right before my eyes. I wasn’t going to allow it.
“I’ll pay for the repairs,” she said.
“Thanks, but it’s not necessary.”
“I insist.” She held her chin high, pressing her lips together.
“Not negotiating.”
“Let me at least buy you a drink, then.”
“A lady never pays.” I tilted toward her. Her eyes widened in surprise. She smelled like flowers and cinnamon, and I barely refrained from inching even closer, invading her personal space.
“Even if she is indirectly responsible for your guitar being in the repair shop?”
“Even then.”
She played with a strand of her hair, giving me a guarded smile. I wanted a real one.
“So how am I supposed to assuage my conscience, then?”
I leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, “We can work that out. I will buy you a drink.”
“What’s in it for you?” She tilted her head lightly to one side. Her hair drifted from her shoulder down to her back. One single strand got caught on the shell of her ear. My fingers itched to push it away, to touch her.
