Page 32 of Sugar Pie
He moved closer. “So youarea rich girl.”
A smile grew on my face, and I took his hand. “Was.”
He winked.
I took another sip as we perused the bar menu. I quickly decided on the cheeseburger, which I hoped would be greasy with crunchy fries on the side. We ordered, and once we were alone again, I asked, “And what about you?”
“UCLA.”
I laughed, picked up the huge mug of beer I’d hardly touched, and said, “That’s pretty prestigious and hard to get into.”
He shrugged but gave no answer.
The food came, and the music was great, but Warren held my attention. I took my beer and food and moved beside him so that we both sat on the same side of the booth. “So you and your brothers are all smart. It’s a good quality to see.”
He playfully rubbed my shoulder. “I half wished I was like you growing up.”
I narrowed my gaze. I wished I didn’t have doubts and could wrap my arms around him and taste his lips. I bet he was better than the beer in my hand. My face heated, and I lowered my head. “Like me?”
He inched closer. “Without any brothers who were always around.”
My eyes widened as I met his gaze. “How do you know so much about me?”
He twisted his beer around. “I listen, and you haven’t ever mentioned siblings. The implication was there. Am I wrong, or are you an only child?”
For years of my life, I thought that even parading around my house stark naked and playing a trumpet would mean that no one would notice me.
A thrill raced through me, but I just picked up my beer and said, “You pay way too much attention to me.”
“Doubtful, and you avoided the answer.”
I sipped the beer and stared at my plate. I couldn’t lie. “I have none. You’re right about me.”
He patted me on the back. “I like being right.”
I shook my head, put my beer down, and refused to acknowledge how his touch had set me off. “You make me want to prove you wrong.”
He winked. “Don’t do that. You make my day better every time I come home.”
The waitress stopped and said, her hand on her hip, “Now that, honey, is a keeper.”
I met his blue eyes, and in that second, I imagined him slipping a ring on my finger. I blinked, and the image was gone. “Maybe he is.”
His grin grew wide as the waitress left. Then he said, “I like her. She was nice.”
I picked up a fry. “You like what she said about you.”
“True,” he said, and then we both ate.
For the next few minutes, the music continued as we ate in a comfortable silence. Once the food was done and I’d had a full sip of beer, I asked, “Why did you start on your path, now, Warren? What’s the driving force to prove yourself?”
He picked up his beer and narrowed his gaze. “Good question.”
I brushed against his leg, which was a mistake. He was strong everywhere and all muscle, which only made me lose my own breath. I pretended that heat didn’t rush through me. “Now, you’re avoiding.”
He shrugged. “I’m twenty-eight. If I don’t do it now, I’ll never get this chance again.”
My gut twisted—there was more, but I shrugged it off. His life before our venture wasn’t mine to know. I sipped my beer. “Well, I’m divorced at twenty-six. My ex was forty-eight, so I don’t think age alone is an answer.”
