CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kace and I stand there staring at each other, a pulse, much like a drawn-out musical note holding us there, almost spellbound.
“Aria?”
At Crystal’s voice, I turn to face her. “Hi,” I say, trying not to sound breathless, but I’m pretty sure I fail. “Ready?” I ask.
“I am.” She glances between me and Kace, a curious look on her heart-shaped face. “Are you?”
“Yes. Of course,” I say, but Kace hasn’t moved and I can feel the pull of his presence that I cannot ignore.
Aware of Crystal watching us, of her interest in whatever this is between us, I still dare to glance back at him, to meet his deep blue stare, which—Lord help me—sends a rush of heat low in my belly. “Thank you for allowing me to enjoy your music.”
His lips part slightly as if he might say something, but instead he gives a tiny bow of his head, which effectively blocks his expression. I want to see his expression, to read him, to understand what is happening between me and this man, but it’s too late. He’s already turned away, walking toward the stage, his broad shoulders squared.
Disappointed, I turn away too and close the space between me and Crystal. She backs up to allow me to exit with her into the hallway, where we fall into step together. “Okay, wow. The air literally crackled between you two. What was that?”
Her reaction confirms that I’m not losing my mind. There is something going on between me and Kace. Or I think there is. As with every encounter with that man, I’m walking away with no idea if I will ever see him again.
“Aria?” she prods.
“I heard him playing and the song took me on a walk down memory lane, something old and familiar. I couldn’t resist going to watch him perform.” I give an awkward laugh. “His rendition made me cry. He’s just so good, you know?”
“I do know,” she says, “but that, whatever that was, that I just walked in on—well, that was interesting.” She spares me a proper reply I don’t have, pausing at her office door. “Kace and I are meeting Chris, his wife Sara, and Mark for drinks at the bar next door in about an hour. Why don’t you and I head over there and go over the paperwork and just chat?”
“I’d like that,” I say, and the idea that I will soon encounter Kace again is a bit too thrilling for my own good. He’s too close to my world and my family history for comfort, but when I’m with him, I don’t seem to care.
***
Fifteen minutes later, I’m sitting across from Crystal in a dimly lit, cozy little spot, with what seems like hundreds of dangling red bulbs hanging from the ceiling, and cushy red booths for seating. “They have the best s’mores martinis,” Crystal announces. “You have to try one.”
I hold up a hand. “I’m not a good drinker. I’ll embarrass myself. Who knows what I’ll say with a martini down me.”
“Perfect. I want to hear all about you and Kace.” She motions to a waitress. “Two of my usual, Claire, please,” she calls out and then refocuses on me. “I’m a regular here, as you can imagine. It’s close but it’s also wonderful.”
“It’s cozy.”
“Exactly,” she agrees. “That’s one of the things I love about it and it’s never overly packed. Here in the city, that can be hard to find.”
My phone buzzes with a text and I can’t help it. My nerves jolt with the idea that this could be Gio. Or not. It could be bad news. I grab my phone and breathe out in relief and disappointment to find the message is from Alexander and it reads: Let’s talk about the wine. Can we meet tonight?
“Everything okay?” Crystal asks, real concern in her voice.
“Sorry,” I say, sighing. “It’s Alexander. Apparently, he and my client know each other. It’s gotten complicated. He wants to meet tonight.”
“Tell him to come here. He knows where it’s at. The Red Bar.”
I hesitate. “Are you sure?”
“Of course. You have to take care of business.”
The waitress delivers our drinks, which look more like dessert, with chocolate drizzles and fancy glasses. I text Alexander the location and scoop chocolate from the rim of the glass onto my finger. “This looks like a perfect formula for drinking too much for my own good because it tastes too good.”
“Well, there is that, but never fear. I’m here. I’ll protect you.”
It’s something a true friend would say. Something it feels like we might become if I let us, but is that selfish? Do I put her at risk because of who I am? My phone buzzes again and I glance down and back up. “He’s on his way. Thank you, Crystal.”
She waves that off. “What are friends for if not to help you maneuver the Alexanders of the world? And I feel like we’re going to be fast friends.” She motions to my drink. “Now. Try the martini. I’m dying to see what you think.”