“Kiss?” I question with a chuckle.
She chuckles. “Nope. I gave him a bag of pretzels from my lunch. Then he tried to kiss me, and I realized that my crush wasn’t so much a crush as a fondness for his brilliant brain.”
Trailing my fingertip over her chin, I lure her head up. “Are you fond of my brain?”
Her hands reach for my shoulders. “I’m fond of that and many other parts of you.”
“I want to take you to bed,” I confess.
Her gaze locks on mine. “Soon. I promise, but I think I should head home.”
I don’t push because she’s right. It will be soon.
This evening can end now, and I’ll go to bed with a smile on my face.
“Your daughter is very talented,” she whispers. “I’m glad I got to know her a little better tonight.”
“I am too,” I say truthfully. “I caught the tail end of your conversation with Stevie in the music room. You’ll be back soon for another guitar lesson?”
She nods. “You name the day and time, and I’ll be there.”
How about always and forever?
It’s way too fucking soon for me to even entertain a long-term future with this woman, so I swallow those words and smile. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
She turns to start toward the foyer, but I stop her when I wrap both hands around her waist. “Kiss me goodnight, Astrid.”
Her gaze trails over my face. “That would be my pleasure.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Astrid
Eloise rushes toward me the second I step into Vinyl Crush.
It’s early Friday morning.
I wasn’t expecting her to work today, so I only picked up a coffee for myself on my way back from the subway. I hit the platform at seven this morning and played a few sets before I packed my guitar back up to come to work.
“I didn’t know you’d be here,” I say quietly as I push everything in my hands toward her. “Take my guitar case and coffee. I’m going to run to get you one.”
“You’re not going anywhere.” Her gaze trails over my face. “Have you checked your phone this morning, Astrid?”
I place my guitar case on the floor, so I can tug my phone out of my jacket pocket and flash the screen in her direction. “It’s dead. I forgot to plug it in last night. I didn’t realize that before I left this morning. I’ll run up to my apartment to get a battery charger after I get you a coffee.”
“Wait.” Her hand on my forearm stops me as I take my first step.
“Why?”
She draws a deep breath. “Something happened overnight.”
Panic falls over me.
I haven’t talked to my dad in a couple of weeks, but that’s not unusual. He’s busy with work and his family. I’ve been wrapped up in Berk and the store.
“What happened, Eloise?” I question softly.
Tears well in her eyes as she shakes her head.
“Is it your mom? Your dad?” I move to take her into my arms. “Did something happen to Draco? Tell me what you need.”
She pulls back from our embrace to look into my eyes. “It’s nothing like that, Astrid.”
I silently question her with a perked brow.
“These are happy tears.” She skims a finger over her cheek to chase away a lingering tear. “You’re famous.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “I’m not famous.”
“You’re trending.” She turns her phone screen toward me. “Someone uploaded part of your set from the bar the other night, and it’s taken the world by storm.”
She has to be exaggerating. “I’m trending?”
“Hashtag Astrid Rehn.” She points a finger at her phone’s screen. “Everyone is going wild for Wait.”
Wait.
That’s a ballad I wrote last year about a man I hadn’t met yet.
It’s filled with angst and the sorrowful longing of a woman who wishes she could meet a good man who treats her right.
I wrote it in the span of four hours one night after a horrible blind date that a customer set up for me.
I was tired of the games men play and wanted something real with a man who saw me for who I am.
The chorus of the song is a chant that I’ll wait. I’ll wait forever if that’s what it takes to look into his eyes and soul.
“Astrid.” Eloise reaches forward to tap my shoulder. “You’re a huge deal right now.”
I take her phone from her and scan the posts that all end the same way: #astridrehn.
“I’m a hashtag?” I laugh. “This is wild.”
“You’re a hashtag.” She plucks her phone from my hands. “Charge your phone so we can see if any big deal music people want to meet up with you.”
“Big deal music people?”
“Producers, record label executives, huge names in pop music.” She laughs. “Take your pick. I’ll bet someone important is looking for you.”
I glance over her shoulder when I hear the bell over the door ring.
I raise a hand in greeting to one of our regular customers. “There’s someone important. It’s time to work.”