Page 51 of All Signs Point to Malibu

Next to me, even Warren looks suitably impressed.

“You are amazing,” I tell Darren, leaning over the bar again to kiss his check.

And okay, maybe to give Warren another chance to check out my ass.

Which he does.

At least I know this attraction is going both ways.

I reach into my purse for my cell phone and quickly text the details of the event to Darren.

His phone chimes on the bar and he nods, seeing the text. “I’ll make sure he’s there.”

“Thank you.”

Darren hesitates then turns to Warren. “There is one way you could show your gratitude,” he says.

Warren laughs, reaches for a napkin and signs it for him.

“Thanks, man,” Darren says, hanging it on the wall of fame behind him, where photos and autographs of famous people are on display. “It’s a shame you’re not playing anymore.”

My gut tightens and I expect the comment to have a negative impact on the chill vibe currently radiating between Warren and me, but he doesn’t seem fazed as he shrugs. “Even the best rodeo stars have to hang up their spurs sometime.”

“True that,” Darren says. “Don’t be a stranger—you both have VIP access anytime.”

I wave as we head toward the door, and once outside in the heat and sun, Warren says, “That guy seems appreciative.”

“He did all the work, I just helped him target the right clientele.”

“He listened to your advice even though he obviously wanted a country music bar?” Warren asks as we head back toward our vehicles.

“He did.”

“You must be quite persuasive,” he says.

“I am,” I say turning toward him.

Our gazes meet and hold for a sexually charged moment too long. My body heats up and it has nothing to do with the midday sun beating down on the pavement. Warren’s light blue eyes hold a depth I haven’t seen in them before. The five o’clock stubble along his strong, square jawline is like some sort of beacon and I have to force my hand to remain at my side.

I bet his stubble would tickle against my neck...

I look away and clear my throat. “Well, another thing checked off the to-do list.”

“Yep.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and looks reluctant to get in his Jeep and drive away.

An odd lingering silence drifts in the stifling air.

“My place to go over the playlist?” I suggest on impulse.

He nods. Very quickly. As though he was also trying to come up with a way to keep this day going. “Meet you there,” he says and my heart does an involuntary flutter that it has no business doing.

Window down, music blaring, I follow Hailey’s convertible as we drive along the coast to her place. With the top down, her hair blows in the breeze and she drives ten over the speed limit, as though she’s in a hurry to get there.

I don’t know what the hell I’m doing wanting to spend more time with her, but booking the DJ was a lot quicker than I thought...or hoped?. Her suggestion to work on the playlist was the excuse I hadn’t been able to come up with.

And it definitely seemed like an excuse.

She’s been wanting to plan all of this alone, so asking for help on something like a playlist feels as though she wanted to spend more time with me, as well.

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