Chapter 3
CHAPTER
THREE
Ryker
It was Thursday, and I couldn’t wait to get on stage.
The pressure on Wall Street was relentless.
Having a way to let off steam was crucial, and for me, it was this.
Performing for a crowd gave me the release I needed.
And as an added bonus, it also gave me a chance to get out of a suit.
I’d never been a fan of the financial district’s uniform.
I took my guitar, stepping on stage with the other guys I usually played with: a vocalist, Josh, and a drummer, Steve.
The second my fingers strummed over the cords, my muscles loosened, the strain leaving my body.
All thoughts of Wall Street drifted to the back of my mind.
The company was in hot water because one of the other investment directors had just been fired for screwing over a client to maximize his own bonus.
Everyone was worried about the company’s image.
I was too, but I was also pissed that the client was now in financial trouble because of a greedy moron.
As I’d predicted, the bruised cheek earned me glares from colleagues and clients alike.
Tension was high, but now it was just me and the guitar, the music. The crowd was thinner than usual tonight. I scanned the room, soaking in the energy of the place, of the patrons dancing to our beat. My gaze rested on a petite woman leaning against the bar.
Were my eyes playing tricks because I’d wanted to find her so badly, or was my mystery woman in the crowd? No, there she was: brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, smiling and drumming her fingers on the counter. I scanned those around her quickly. Douchebag wasn’t anywhere in sight. Fuck, yes.
I loved being on stage, but I’d never wanted to leave it more than I wanted to now. I didn’t want to lose her again. I kept my eyes trained on her, ready to follow her if she left.
When the set was over, I practically jumped off the stage, making a beeline for her. She didn’t move. Instead, her smile widened.
“Mystery girl,” I exclaimed when I reached her. Damn, she was even more beautiful than I remembered. I hadn’t looked close enough before to notice her sexy curves. She was wearing a tight dress that teased enough of her cleavage to tempt me to look more, but I fought to maintain eye contact.
She laughed softly. “What?”
“I don’t know your name.”
“Heather.”
“I’m Ryker.”
“I know.”
“Oh?”
“I asked the manager about you.”
“Music to my ears.”
“I feel guilty about that. Is it the one the beer spilled over?” She pointed to my guitar.
“No, that’s in a repair shop.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry. My guy says he can fix it.”
“Well, I feel guilty anyway.”
“Not your fault. It’s that douchebag’s.”
She lowered her gaze, shrinking into herself right before my eyes. I wasn’t going to allow it.
“I’ll pay for the repairs,” she said.
“Thanks, but it’s not necessary.”
“I insist.” She held her chin high, pressing her lips together.
“Not negotiating.”
“Let me at least buy you a drink, then.”
“A lady never pays.” I tilted toward her. Her eyes widened in surprise. She smelled like flowers and cinnamon, and I barely refrained from inching even closer, invading her personal space.
“Even if she is indirectly responsible for your guitar being in the repair shop?”
“Even then.”
She played with a strand of her hair, giving me a guarded smile. I wanted a real one.
“So how am I supposed to assuage my conscience, then?”
I leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, “We can work that out. I will buy you a drink.”
“What’s in it for you?” She tilted her head lightly to one side. Her hair drifted from her shoulder down to her back. One single strand got caught on the shell of her ear. My fingers itched to push it away, to touch her.
“We’ll see.”
She laughed, and I detected a light blush in her cheeks.
I just couldn’t keep myself from flirting with her.
I wasn’t the Flirt for nothing. She was beautiful and newly single.
I only interrupted our eye contact to drop my gaze to her mouth.
She licked her lips, exhaling sharply. I could feel her about to give in.
“You win,” she whispered. I smiled triumphantly. Her voice bordered on disbelief, but that brilliant smile was a sure sign that she liked my balls-to-the-walls approach to… everything.
We climbed on barstools, looking at the cocktail list. The beauty of not being able to drive in Manhattan was that you didn’t have to worry about drinking and driving.
I was close enough to smell that intoxicating mix of flowers and cinnamon again. Perfumes weren’t something I usually noticed, but hers was messing with my senses. She was messing with my senses. Everything from her unassuming beauty to her showing up here to buy me a drink surprised me.
“What are we drinking?”
“You’re trusting me to pick your drink?” I teased.
“You do know this place better than I do. Plus, I think you’re trustworthy.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Half my family would disagree with you.”
“And the other half?”
“Would probably tell you to wait until the end of the evening to decide if I’m trustworthy or not.”
“Oh, crap. I’m in big trouble, huh?”
I wiggled my eyebrows.
“Huge.”
She shook her head but didn’t say anything.
We ended up ordering Mojitos—the Northern Lights made the best one in the city.
“So how large is your family?” Heather asked after a few drinks. The crowd in the bar thinned even more, but honestly, I was barely aware of what was going on around us. She was just too captivating.
“Two sisters, two brothers, myself included. Well, three. We have a cousin here too, but I consider him like a brother.”
“I see. So three versus two, huh? And you don’t think the balance would tip in your favor?”
“That should tell you something.”
She whistled loudly. “I don’t know, Ryker. I think this is more than I can handle.”
“Oh, you’re handling me just fine.” I tapped my temple. “Ah, forgot to add Mom to the mix. She’d definitely be on the team warning you off.”
“Ouch. So not even your folks think you’re trustworthy?”
“Unfortunately not.”
She held her drink up and we clinked glasses.
“Do you have another set tonight?” she asked.
“Yes, but later on.”
“I like to hear you play. You’re very talented.”
“Thank you.”
“How long have you been doing this?”
“All in all, about eight years, but I’ve taken breaks.”
“That’s a commitment.”
I liked Heather. It was so easy to talk to her. I realized she probably thought I was some artist living on tips, and I couldn’t rectify that right now. Working my occupation as a venture capitalist in the conversation would make me sound like a douchebag bragging about his job.
When her glass was empty, she looked at it regretfully. “I need to go.”
“I disagree.”
“Ryker….”
“You said you like to hear me play. I still have that one set coming up.”
“I know, but it’s late.”
It was barely nine.
“What’s your favorite song? I’ll convince the guys to play it.”
Her mouth formed an O. “Are you trying to trick me into staying?”
“Yes. I’d try to do it with food, but they only serve burgers around here, and they’re nothing to brag about. Don’t tell anyone I said that, or they’ll kick me out of here.”
“I’ll keep your secret.”
“So. Favorite song.” I slid off my chair too, stepping right in front of her. I needed to win her over. No way was I ready for my time with her to end.
“I really can’t. I’m sorry.”
For the first time ever, I was tempted to ditch the guys, just to spend time with her, walk her home, whatever. But I couldn’t let the guys down, and I had the feeling that Heather wouldn’t want me to. This was New York City. Letting a stranger walk you home could be dangerous.
“How guilty do you feel?” I asked.
She frowned. “Huh?”
“Guilty enough to give me your phone number?”
Her frown melted, giving way to a smile. She rattled off her number, and I immediately typed it on my phone. The guys called me on the stage.
“When are you picking up your guitar from the repair shop?” she asked.
“On Monday at seven. Why?”
“I’ll come with you. I’m paying for that.”
“Not what we agreed on earlier.”
She shrugged, smiling. “I was just pretending to agree. Thought you’d be more willing to play along after a drink.”
“See you on Monday, then. I’ll text you the name and address of the repair shop,” I said, walking backward toward the stage.
Laughing, I realized she was just as good at getting her way as I was.
I still wasn’t going to let her pay for it, but she’d just given me the perfect excuse to see her again.