Sweet Thing (Naughty Things 2)

“To be honest, Mr. North,” Mrs. Chi says, “we’re worried about the noise.”

I already know that half the board thinks allowing North to buy a space is a bad idea. He’s a developer, I’ve learned. Trying to gentrify the neighborhood by buying up properties on the cheap so he can renovate and sell at a premium.

“I have a solution for that,” North says, making eye contact with everyone but me. “I’ll only play at night. Say, nine PM to”—he shrugs—“two AM? That way I won’t bother anyone during the day.”

“We wouldn’t want to restrict you like that,” Mr. Garcia says. “It’s not fair.”

“Oh, it’s no big deal,” North says. “I work during the day. And I barely sleep. I get up at five AM every morning even though I don’t have to be at work until nine. I figure staying up late pounding on the kit will help me develop better sleep habits. Tire me out, so to speak.”

And then he does look at me. And is that a wink?

Mr. Garcia smiles his tight smile that says, I’m not convinced. But Mrs. Chi says, “If you’ll excuse us now, we’ll take a vote and let you know.”

“Can I wait?” North asks. “I’d prefer to know before I leave, if that’s OK.”

“You may,” Mrs. Chi says.

North stands up, thanking everyone politely, and then buttons his suit coat as he walks out.

Damn. The man is hot. Like, he’s seriously old. Probably over thirty, but he’s still very hot. His hair is kinda wild, for one thing. And he reached for a glass of water while everyone was talking and I think I glimpsed a tattoo under his shirt cuff.

Maybe he really is a drummer? Like some weird hybrid land developer by day and rock star at night?

“All those in favor?” Mr. Garcia is asking, not even pretending he’s interested in having more debate. These people have really made up their mind, I guess.

Sucks to be you, Mr. Hot Drummer. They hate the idea.

When I look around I see that four of the board members have their hands up indicating yes. We should let him in. And four, including me, have hands on the table.

But just as Garcia opens his mouth to declare the motion denied, I raise my hand.

I don’t know why I do it. April didn’t have an opinion one way or the other. She barely mentioned tonight’s agenda to me.

But that tattoo under his shirt cuff.

So sexy.

“Miss Amherst?” Mr. Garcia questions my decision. “Are you sure?”

I swallow hard and nod. “Yes. April told me to vote yes.”

Lies, Aria. Nice start to your new life as an adult.

“Very well, then.” Mr. Garcia sighs. “Motion to accept Mr. North’s application has been accepted.”

Everyone stands up, bustling around and gathering up papers. Mr. Garcia comes over to me as several of the yes voters exit, probably eager to talk to the sexy Mr. North and let him know the good news. “I’m very surprised that April told you to vote yes, Aria.”

“Oh?” I say, my face heating up with embarrassment over my lie.

“I talked to her this morning and she said she had no opinion on the matter.”

“Yes, well… she kinda said it on her way out this afternoon. Spur-of-the-moment reconsideration, maybe?” I smile.

Don’t blush, don’t blush, don’t blush.

I blush.

“It’s OK,” Mr. Garcia says, patting my arm. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset,” I say, feeling the heat on my cheeks.

“It’s very sweet,” he says.

“What is?” I ask.

“You’re so young and innocent. But a breath of fresh air too. I will let Mr. North know you were the deciding vote.”

I grab his arm to stop him, but he slips out of reach and heads for the door.

I follow, anxious that he will be talking about me to that hot, sexy, old guy with peekaboo tattoos under his expensive shirt cuff.

But I don’t follow him out of the board room, just kind of hide behind the door frame. Which really doesn’t hide me, because well, everything in this place is glass. So I only look stupid when Mr. Garcia goes up to North and shakes his hand, then points to me hiding behind nothing.

My face goes completely hot and my natural shyness takes over as I try to pretend that this sliver of steel door frame can actually hide my whole body if I look directly at it with my eyes so I can’t see them.

I just stand there, shaking my head at my own childish stupidity.

“Thank you,” North’s rough, deep voice says.

I peek out from behind the frame and say, “What? Oh. No. Well… I didn’t see you there.” And then, because that was a disastrous incoherent babbling first impression, “Hey, no problem. I like drummers. We should all aspire to drum ourselves to sleep at night.”

For fuck’s sake, Aria.

He laughs. And, oh, wow, that laugh. Deep and rumbly. So much bass.