“’Fraid so.”
“Damn. Well, guess it’s time for you to sing for me.”
She shifted on the couch cushion. No way was she singing that song in front of him. It’d be like standing in front of him naked. “It’s too late. Maybe next time.”
“Come on, I’m sure you can stay up a little past your bedtime? It’s just one song.”
His tone was gentle, cajoling. Part of her really wanted to give in to him. But that was the same part that also wanted to crawl across the couch and run her hands up his T-shirt
while she discovered what his mouth tasted like. She knew not to listen to that part. “I really can’t. I have some other stuff to do before bed.”
He frowned, considering her. “The same stuff that made you run out of the restaurant last night?”
Her heart ticked up a beat.
“You know how I said I have a thing about honesty?” he asked, setting aside his pad and pen.
The question caught her off guard. She swallowed past the tightness seizing her vocal cords. “Yeah.”
“Well, I have a little confession to make. Last night when you left the table, I accidentally answered your phone.”
Her stomach dropped right through the floor. Boom. Crash. Catastrophe. “You what?”
His gaze didn’t waver. “It was a complete accident, and I’m really sorry. We have the same ring and I wasn’t looking. I just grabbed it. A guy asked for Sasha.”
Her pizza was going to make a reappearance. She could feel it burning the back of her throat. “So a wrong number.”
“Was it?”
She’d gone clammy all over, like all the interrogation lights in the world had just turned onto her, glaring in her face. “Well, that’s not my name, so yeah.”
Pike blew out a breath and rubbed his palms on his jeans. “Okay. I just wanted to let you know that it happened. I’m not into secrets.”
“I—I appreciate you telling me,” she said, her words coming out as nervous as she felt.
He stood and she followed suit. But instead of turning toward the door, he stepped over to her, standing far closer than any two co-workers had any business doing. He put a knuckle under her chin to guide her face up to his. “Also, I’m not into judging. Or telling other people’s secrets.”
His eyes were going to be the death of her—those long, dark lashes framing eyes that changed color with his moods. Right now they were golden brown, penetrating. But she couldn’t give him the honesty he wanted. She gave him a tight smile, ignoring her twisting insides. “Good to know.”
After a long few seconds, where he held her solely with the power of that searching, steady gaze, he stepped back and grabbed his keys from the coffee table. “I left a name and number on the kitchen counter. You call that guy and tell him I sent you. My band’s playing a big festival in Fort Worth next Saturday and he’ll get you tickets. You and Reagan should come. I think she’d like it—even if my band’s a little more hard rock than punk.”
Oakley opened her mouth to protest, but he was already at the door.
He turned back to look at her, as if he wanted to say something else, then his gaze flicked to the coffee table where her phone sat. He put his back to her again. “G’night, Oakley. Don’t stay up too late.”
When the door closed, she sank back onto the couch, head in her hands. It would be so easy to call him back in. So. Easy. She could tell him about her secret job, unload that burden. She doubted Pike would care. It’s not like he wanted to date her. He wanted to sleep with her. Who cared what she did for a living?
He could be in her bed tonight and sneak out by morning before Reagan woke up.
But then what? Awkwardness and hurt feelings, probably. She’d learned early on that she sucked at casual. Maybe it was her conservative upbringing, but she had trouble separating out feelings from sex. She didn’t have a ton of experience, but when she let someone inside her body, it left a mark.
She didn’t need any more marks. Especially ones meted out by fly-by-night musicians who bedded women for sport.
Her life was complicated enough.
So what if her libido had decided to make an appearance after a long hiatus? That didn’t mean she had to appease it with the nearest willing heartbreaker. She didn’t need some guy to fix it.
Tomorrow, she’d take a trip to one of those stores with the suggestive names and tinted windows. She’d handle this herself.