CHAPTER 4
CARY
“I can’t believe I did that,” Cary said under his breath on the elevator ride to his penthouse. Was he that guy? Was it possible he’d been mistaken? Maybe he’d misread her body language. But they’d had such a great time . . . at least in his mind.
Tyler was smart and funny, not like those fake Hollywood types.
Not that she wasn’t beautiful. She was all kinds of beautiful.
Like how she wore her hair up in an “I don’t care” style.
Her blue eyes reminded him of Pelican Lake, where his family had gone camping in the summer when he was a child.
But the dimples on her cheeks really knocked him out.
They were cute but sexy, livening up her already perfect smile.
And here he was, trying to impress her like some douchebag when her dad was Bert Robertson.
The Bert Robertson. To guitar players, he was a legend.
Tyler sure as hell wasn’t going to be impressed by him or any musician, given her lineage.
In fact, she was probably on the phone right now telling Kim what a jerk he’d been for kissing her—and for not knowing the name of his building’s attendant.
The truth was he rarely came into contact with anyone who wasn’t a Kinger.
Hopefully she’d text him when she got home, and he could reply with something funny. He loved that she laughed at his jokes—it even seemed genuine.
He could hardly wait to see her in Winnipeg, even though it meant watching hockey.