Page 17 of Wickedly Yours

“I told you I would.” He waved over the bartender, ordering a glass of scotch. He was dressed more casually tonight, in a pair of dark wash jeans and a different black button-up.

I shrugged, trying to look casual, even though I felt likebeaming. “I know. But you didn’t call me or text me, and I didn’t know…”

“Sorry.” He smoothed his hand over his chin. “I had to work. Things got busier than I expected with the… company. I couldn’t get away.”

“Ah. I’m sorry.” I shook my head, feeling guilty. He’d been busy, and I’d been…what? Moping? Waiting for him to come back around like a sad girl? That wasn’t like me.

I’d just wanted to see him again.

“No, it’s my fault. You don’t have to apologize.” His pinky brushed against mine, sending a jolt of electricity up my arm. Down my body. I was suddenly so aware of his presence next to me. How much larger he was.

“Okay,” I whispered, not sure how to protest to that.

“I wanted to take you out,” he frowned. “That’s what you wanted, right? A… date?”

“I’m not opposed to it.” I tried to sound cool, even though just the idea sent a rush through me. Dinner and a fancy evening with just the two of us would benice. It had been a long time since I’d been on an actual date. But I was happy with this, too. “Maybe we can do that next time.”

I wanted to keep him to myself for now. If we went out to dinner in town, we’d be the biggest gossip. At least at the bar, I could keep my handsome stranger to myself.

He smirked. “What have I already done to earn anexttime?”

“Show up. Apologize.” I gave him a shrug as I finished my drink. “Buy a girl a drink.”

“That’s kind of the bare minimum, you know?” Zain quirked an eyebrow.

I laughed, the nerves melting away. “I know. Doesn’t mean most guys I know deliver it.” Especially the ones in this town.

“They’re fools.” He had that right. Zain looked at my empty glass as he sipped on his. “So, are you going to let me buy you another one?” He spoke low, the deep timbre of his voice sending shivers down my spine.

I fluttered my eyelashes. “Of course.”

After the bartender had made me a second vodka cranberry, I happily took a sip.

“You never told me what it is exactly that you do,” I said. I’d told him I was a baker, but I didn’t know that much about him, even after our questions game.

“I make a lot of deals. For my father’s company.” I watched the line of his jaw as he swallowed, fascinated by the movement of his Adam’s apple.

“Business deals?” I clarified. “What type of business does he do?”

“He has his hands in a lot of different dealings,” Zain muttered. Vague, but alright, I was technically still a stranger to him, too. I couldn’t blame him if he didn’t want to share the nitty-gritty of his life with me.

I didn’t even know his last name, after all. And I’d never told him mine.

“Where are you from?”

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “I think it’s my turn to ask a question, Moonbeam.”

There was that nickname again. I blushed. “Okay. Ask away.”

“Did you wear that for me?”

I blushed, tugging at the neckline of the tight fitting dress. Had I?Yes.

Between it and the thigh-high boots, it was a little sexier than what I’d normally wear to get a drink at the bar in Pleasant Grove. The front dipped down, showing off a bit of cleavage, and the fabric hugged my hips. I crossed my legs, pressing my thighs together.

“I mean, I’d hoped to see you again, so…” I pushed a strand of hair behind my ear, looking up at him through my lashes. It was a little insane, but I couldn’t deny that I’dwantedhim to come back.

“Me too,” he said, unable to take his eyes off mine. I liked that. It made me feel wanted—seen.

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