Page 74 of Living on the Edge

Fuck, I really love her smile.

“So… you think we could do something like that?”

“Sure. Let me get with the band about timing… oh! I have an idea. We’re doing that outdoor festival in South Dakota coming up—that’s the perfect venue for something like that.”

She looks hesitant again. “I don’t want to cause any problems with the band…”

“It’s not a problem. Don’t worry. We just need to talk logistics.”

“I really appreciate this. I do have a girls’ day type of thing planned with Lexi and Kirsten on Sunday since it’s a relatively short drive from Columbus to Detroit. The plan is to get there by noon and then we’ll have the whole day to get our nails done, lunch, and shopping. You know, a day in the life of two rock chicks. Something like that.”

“And that kind of thing helps you?”

“There are tons of different ways I make money. They pay me if I get enough views. I also have sponsorship opportunities, stuff like that, so it’s convoluted.”

I know she’ll be offended if I offer her money, so I’m glad I can help in another way.

“I’ll talk to the band tomorrow about when I can do it for you. And I’ll bet Jonny would be happy to talk to you, one-on-one. The ladies really like him and his pretty face.”

She laughs. “He’s okay, I guess.”

I arch my brows curiously. “Not a fan?”

“Oh, I’m a fan of Jonny Gold the singer, but he’s not my type physically.”

“I didn’t think such a woman existed. I’ve never seen him get turned down unless the woman is taken. And even then, I’ve seen him come close.”

She shrugs. “We all have a type, you know?”

I study her beautiful face.

Framed by that gorgeous red hair.

We all definitely have a type.

And she’s mine.

The waiter arrives with our food, and it’s delicious. Ryleigh devours hers, obviously starving after so many days of subsisting on Gatorade and granola bars, so I don’t hesitate to order dessert when we’re done.

“I’m stuffed,” she protests.

“Trust me—the cannoli-stuffed cheesecake is worth every calorie.”

She groans, but her eyes are bright with interest.

When is the last time I had such a good time on a date?

I don’t know for sure this is officially a date, but I’m treating it like one. I still feel bad about the way I behaved after we slept together, so this is probably a feeble attempt at making it up to her. Tate would say I’m trying to buy her forgiveness, and maybe he’s right, but there’s more to it than that.

The bonus is spending the evening looking at her.

Talking to her.

Listening to her laugh.

Watching her excitement over something as simple as a faux champagne cocktail.

Has no one ever spoiled her before?

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