Page 7 of One Wild Ride

If a man wasn’t attracted to me, I was fine with that. I could even handle if a guy was a bit of a jerk to me as I had dealt with much worse, but I had never had anyone tell me I had no talent.

Except my father, but I couldn’t care less what my dad thought of me anymore. What he did to our family—to my sister—was unforgivable.

I waved at the booth seat across from him and he nodded for me to sit.

“Did you think I worked here? Is that why you came? Have some fun with the poor folk?”

I knew I had hit his sore spot as his jaw twitched and his hand rubbed over his face. Maybe he was one of those out of touch rich people who truly believed they were just like everyone else.

It was sort of a turn-on to tease him and poke the wild, sexy beast.

“No, I know you don’t work here.” His eyes stayed fixated on his hands as he twisted a paper napkin to death.

“I see. Had someone check up on me? Find out everything about me, huh? You can buy art from a talentless nobody but not a shady talentless nobody.”

He groaned and shook his head.

“Can we just stop. Pretend like two weeks ago never happened. I didn’t mean you didn’t have any talent. I only meant that groupies don’t understand what real art is. They don’t see beauty and depth and emotion in works of art, they only see fame and popularity.”

Surprise held me in place as he finished his speech.

“You may not be popular or famous, at least not yet, Aria, but your paintings have more soul and heart in them than all the art groupies in the world have in their bodies. That’s why I bought them. That’s what I meant to say but it didn’t come out that way. I’m sorry.”

Alexander’s eyes lifted, sad as a cloudy sky, causing me to frown. I had judged him boldly, too quickly, and it was now his gaze that held my punishment.

“I didn’t mean what I said . . . that you should stick to your day job as a bartender. I was angry and didn’t mean that at all.”

I nodded. “Good, because I quit.”

His frown disappeared and turned into the slightest curve at the corner of his mouth. Damn it, but it was hot.

“Really?”

“Yes. I gave them my two weeks’ notice last week. My boss was sad to see me go, so I promised to help out from time to time. She’s a good person.”

He nodded and then there was silence. We both sat there awkwardly. I played with the gold heart charm on my necklace and Alex strangled more napkins.

I should apologize too. I don’t really know Alexander Hawthorne and it was unfair of me to assume he was some spoiled rich guy without a clue about real life struggles. But as I was about to say something he cut me off.

“It’s best if you don’t work anyway,” he said as a big grin took over his face.

“What? Why shouldn’t I work?”

That was weird. But I shrugged it off expecting him to explain himself.

His cheeks reddened, and it was sweet in a way. Like some boy about to ask a girl on a date. Maybe that was it? He wanted to go on a date with me. Though, that wouldn’t explain the whole no work thing.

Would I go out with him? Yes, I think I would. When he explained what he meant just now about the art groupies . . . well, it was flattering. Alex’s hot and obsessed with art as much as I am, I think that would be a great idea. If it goes well, I might suspend my one date rule and go out with him twice.

It would be refreshing to go out with someone I had something in common with.

“I, uh, wanted to hire you. To, um. I didn’t think this would be so hard. I’ve never had to ask someone, usually someone else hires them to, you know . . .” His eyes dipped to my lips.

That’s when it hit me.

“Like to have sex with?” I lowered my voice and leaned my head forward. “You think I’m a prostitute?”

The muscles in his jaw twitched as he leaned forward. “Who told you that? Did my mother talk to you?”

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