Page 7 of The Bachelor

Where are you?

A diner.

She glanced at the menu the waitress hadn’t removed and typed out the name and address of the restaurant.

You have to bring me my purse.

I’m already home.

Seriously? He had the gall to cheat on her and then complain about driving out of his way?

I don’t have any money or my phone!

Fine. Be there in ten.

Relieved, she wrote, “Thanks” and then set the phone back down.

“Did you just thank him?” Shane asked, glancing down at the screen.

“Well, yeah. I mean, he agreed to bring my purse.”

“It’s the fucking least he could do,” Shane snorted.

“True.” She couldn’t help it though. She’d been raised to be polite. But he was right. She didn’t owe Ben a damn thing, least of all a thank you. “That gets you off the hook though.”

Shane shook his head. “I’m not leaving until you have your purse and you’re settled somewhere safe for the night.”

“You don’t have to do that.” She wanted him to, though. She didn’t want to be alone. She didn’t want to see Ben. If Shane were still sitting with her when he arrived, she wouldn’t have to get into a conversation, or more likely a fight, with her ex-boyfriend. It would allow her to retain the tiny shreds of dignity she still held and not bawl her eyes out in front of the jerk or start screaming at him in the presence of diners who just wanted to eat their eggs.

“I know I don’t have to. But I’m going to,” he said firmly. “Now tell me, what is it you want to do here? Be a big star?”

She shook her head. “No. That’s not my dream.” She didn’t want to talk about how she wanted to be a songwriter. It would sound so silly to a man like Shane. How many fresh-faced girls had wandered into Nashville thinking they would make a career out of music, only to have the hard reality of the industry shut them down? Thousands. She knew she sounded and looked naïve.

Besides, she couldn’t take any more disappointment tonight. She didn’t want to see Shane’s skepticism or sympathy when she said she wanted to be a songwriter.

“That’s it? That’s all I get?” He frowned at her.

Basically.

“Do you want to be a songwriter? A backup singer? A sound tech? A producer?”

“Never mind.” She wasn’t going to wax enthusiastic about writing songs to a man who was just being polite.

“Now you’re just making me even more curious. It sounds so mysterious.” He smiled at her.

That wasn’t her intention either. She just wanted to dissuade him from prying “Well, what’s your dream?” she asked. “What do you do for a living?”

He made a face. “Okay, fair enough. I’m not of the mind to share that right now.”

Avery gave him a smile, pleased that she had turned it around on him. “See? Though I guess if we’re ever going to share secrets, at three in the morning with a stranger is the way to do it.”

But Shane raised his eyebrows up. “I could think of better things we could share than secrets in the middle of the night.”

In the midst of taking a sip of her coffee, Avery paused. That almost sounded suggestive. She swallowed and looked at him closely. Not exactly familiar with the signs of overwhelming lust in a man, she couldn’t say for certain that’s what was darkening his eyes, but she didn’t think it was heartburn either. “Like what?” she asked without thinking. Blame it on the emotional overload. She wanted to hear him say it—that he was talking about sex, that he was flirting.

The corner of his mouth turned up in a slow, sensual grin. “Waffles.”

She blinked. “Waffles?”

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