“Yes, any friend of Willow’s is welcome,” Olive adds. They’re laying it on thick.
“I appreciate it,” Drew says as he pulls out his chair and takes a seat beside me.
“Drew, this is Petunia and Olive. Girls, this is Drew.”
“So, Drew, tell us a bit about yourself,” Petunia prompts as she studies him with narrowed eyes.
“Well, my name is Drew Hunter. I like dogs, sunsets, and long walks on the beach.”
The girls exchange worried glances as his cheese factor rockets.
Ha pauses and smirks. “Naw I’m playing though.”
We all laugh. “I was born and raised not too far from Cincinnati in Amelia. I have a home there now close to my family. We’re a close-knit crew. I’m thirty-three. I work in the music industry. I collect vinyl records, and my job keeps me traveling.”
The girls share a glance.
“If you’ll excuse me, Olive and I are going to make our way to the little lady’s room. But please, don’t let that stop you too from chatting.”
I roll my eyes. They’re so obvious and unrepentant about it.
“I guess I passed the first test?” Drew says.
“You didn’t ring any psycho alarms, so yeah.”
“You owe me a few facts about yourself, Willow.”
“I’m thirty-four, born and raised in Loveland, where I co-run a floral shop with Petunia.”
“You like what you do. Your entire face lights up when you talk about it.”
“I love it. I get to help run the show, without the hassle and headaches that come with ownership.” I shudder thinking about taxes at the end of the year.
“I know you collect vinyl, what else do you like to do?”
“I love to take road trips, and do crafty things,” I shrug. “I’m not very exciting.”
“I think that’s a lie. I’ve barely known you for thirty minutes, and you have my heart speeding.”
Licking my lips, I tuck a strand of my flat-ironed hair behind my ears. “You’re pretty charming. You know that?”
He shakes his head, smiling. “I’m just speaking truth. You’re a beautiful woman with a nice laugh, and I think we might have a lot in common. I’d like to get to know you better if I could.”
I take a drink of beer to moisten my dry mouth. This was the last thing I expected to happen tonight. I hadn’t even wanted to come, but I knew it would let the girls down.
“If you want my number, I need to know what you do.”
He sighs. “I’m a performer.”
“Like in a band?”
“No, I’m a solo artist.”
“What kind of music.”
“Hip hop.”
I narrow my gaze. The clothes and the swagger make more sense.