“How come? You must know you’re good, and isn’t it what most musicians dream of?”
He shrugs before draining his second bottle of water and tossing the empty in the trash can. “Not me. Music is a hobby. It’s a release. A way to indulge my creative side. It will never be anything more.”
“It seems a shame to waste such natural talent, but I admire you for knowing what you want and sticking to your resolve.”
“I still don’t know your name.” He twists around on the couch. His knee brushes against my jean-clad leg as he leans in closer, giving me his undivided attention.
It’s unnerving, but I still can’t force myself to get up and leave.
“And you didn’t tell me if you go to UO too,” he adds, looking at me like I’m the most fascinating person in the world.
“I’m Stevie, and yes, I go to school here. I’m studying floral management and just about to finish my sophomore year.”
“Same here.”
My eyes pop wide. I’m pretty sure there are no guys in any of my classes. Floral management is not really a guy thing.
He chuckles. “I meant I’m a sophomore. I’m majoring in family enterprise.”
“Oh, cool. Does your family have a business?”
He nods as his tongue darts out wetting his lips. “My dad is CEO of Allen Lumber and Allen Wineries. I’ll be joining the business when I graduate.”
His tone is very matter-of-fact, and it doesn’t seem like he’s bragging. Wouldn’t matter if he was. I’m hard to impress, and I can’t think of any guy who has ever managed to do it. “I know Allen Wineries. The country club I used to work at back home buys their wine. So, you’re from Seattle too?”
“Born and bred.”
“What part?”
“Dad lives in North Bend, and Mom lives in Medina. I used to split my time between both homes.” Air trickles out of his mouth as he drags one hand through his messy dark hair.
Something akin to desire pools low in my belly, but I ignore it.
“What about you? Where do you call home?” he asks.
“Ravenna. I live with my mom, and my nana is close by too.”
“No dad?”
“I never knew him.” I’m not about to get into it with a guy who is a virtual stranger even if he seems like an okay guy and the conversation is flowing easily.
“This feels a little like fate.” His eyes sparkle with excitement.
“What does?”
“Us meeting like this.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “It’s coincidence. Not fate. And it’s not like there aren’t a ton of people attending Oregon from Seattle.”
“True, but I’m sticking to my convictions. You call it coincidence. I’m calling it fate.” He attempts to dazzle me with that flirty smile again, and it almost works. Angling his body closer, he stares at my mouth like he wants to kiss me.
Which is crazy.
We only just met.
I can’t deny I feel something between us, but I have zero intention of acting on whatever chemistry we share.
The spicy scent of his cologne calls out to me like a siren, and I scarcely resist the urge to lean into his neck and sniff him. He smells delicious because it’s not enough that he’s hot, has dimples and an amazing smile, is talented yet not stuck up his own ass, and seems like a genuinely nice guy. No, he has to smell incredibly tempting too.
It’s just as well I’m a stickler for my self-imposed rules and a tough nut to crack.
Otherwise, this guy might smash through my shell and burrow his way underneath.
Garrick’s eyes rise to meet mine, and it’s so hard to concentrate on anything but him when he’s fixing me with such a bewitching expression. His eyes are like magnets, drawing me closer, sucking me into his orbit, and making it almost impossible to break free of his spell. His warm breath fans across my face when he speaks, and I bite on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from groaning when his gorgeous scent swirls around me. “Do you have any plans tomorrow night, Stevie? Would you go out to dinner with me?”
A shudder works its way through me as his husky voice does funny things to my insides. I love how my name rolls seductively off his tongue, but I’m determined to remain immune to his charm. It takes considerable effort to sound unaffected when I reply. “I thought you were here for the music not the girls.”
He chuckles. “I am, but I didn’t expect to cross paths with you tonight.” His eyes pierce mine, and I want to look away, but I can’t.
Butterflies run amok in my stomach, and my chest heaves the longer he stares at me. Electricity crackles and snaps, and I am almost afraid to breathe. I bet Garrick has girls beating a path to his door without even trying.
“And just so we’re clear, I’m not the kind of guy who goes around hooking up with different girls. That isn’t who I am.” The smile on his face and the look of appreciation in his eyes seem genuine, and if I was going to break my rules for anyone, it could be him.
But I can’t.
“You seem like a nice guy, Garrick, and I appreciate the dinner invitation, but I have to decline.” I move to get up, and he takes my hand, holding me in place.
“Please call me Gar. All my friends do. Tell me what I need to do to convince you to go out with me?” He cocks his head to one side, stabbing me with those stunning eyes that hold me hypnotized. His lips kick up at the corner. “I can be very convincing when I need to be.”
“I don’t doubt it,” I murmur, shaking myself from my stupor and trying to retrieve my hand from his hold. His large palm dwarves my much smaller one as he holds my hand hostage. Calluses brush against my soft skin as warmth spreads from his hand into mine, radiating up my arm. His grip is firm, steady, and comforting, and it unnerves me. “Can I have my hand back now?”
“No.”
“No?”
He lets loose an enormous smile while clutching my hand tighter. “Agree to go out with me, Stevie.” His eyes drill into mine. “Please,” he adds. “I promise I’ll be the perfect gentleman, and if you don’t want to continue dating, I’ll back down.”
“We would still see each other. You’ll be playing here every Friday night.”
“I promise things won’t be awkward.”
“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t guarantee you can keep.”
“I have remained on good terms with my exes.” He shrugs while his thumb rubs circles on the back of my hand. “This is all hypothetical anyway.” His eyes twinkle with the weight of what he thinks he knows. “Just one date, Stevie. That’s all I’m asking. It’s not really that big of a deal.”
Maybe not to him. Mention of ex-girlfriends suggests Garrick likes being in a relationship, and all it does is prove how incompatible we are. “You’re wasting your time, Garrick. I don’t date.”
“It’s Gar, and why not?”
“I don’t have the time for distractions, and I really need to get back to the bar before Manford sends out a search party.”
“What if I’m the best kind of distraction?” he asks, finally releasing my hand.
“You probably are, but I’m not changing my mind.” Standing, I straighten a hand down the front of my tight-fitting black T-shirt. It’s adorned with the bar logo on the front and my name on the back. All the staff have to wear them, but we can choose to pair it with whatever we like. I usually wear skinny jeans and black tennis shoes because I value comfort over sexiness any day of the week.