Berk smiled as he watched me yank my ID from my wallet. I tucked it into the pocket of my leather jacket before we left Vinyl Crush.
“Does that happen to you often?” Berk asks as the server takes her leave.
I tilt my head to the left. “Being questioned about my age, you mean?”
He nods.
I hold in a laugh. “I’ve never been in a bar in Manhattan when it hasn’t happened.”
“So the answer is a resounding yes,” he states.
I tug on the front of my leather jacket. I still have it wrapped around me because the chill of the air outside was biting. I was shivering by the time we got here. It was only a two block walk from Vinyl Crush, but the wind wasn’t cooperating. It blew my hair all around my face.
I must look like a mess because Berk hasn’t taken his eyes off of me since we sat at a table near the front of the bar.
There are a few other people here. I don’t recognize any of them. That’s a little surprising considering the fact that I meet a lot of people every day, not only because of my work but also when I’m busking.
I take pride in the fact that I can almost always remember a person’s name after I’ve met them. I use an old trick my dad taught me when I was a kid.
He told me to listen intently whenever I meet someone new and to focus on their face because we all have something unique to only us.
It may be a speck of color in a left eye or a slightly crooked nose, but I’ve used that tip forever, and it’s never let me down.
When it comes to the man I’m sitting next to, everything about him is memorable right down to the way he’s looking at me.
I shift my gaze to the server to see her talking to the bartender. “You were pretty precise about the type of beer you like to drink.”
Berk laughs. “I’m picky that way.”
“I’m not,” I counter.
“A London Lemonade,” he repeats my drink order. “I tried one of those when I was sixteen. If memory serves me right, I spit it out after one sip.”
I lower my chin to hide the broad smile on my face. “You didn’t.”
“I did.” The rich tone of his deep voice lures my gaze back up.
I study his face. Each time I see him, I notice something new about it. Tonight, it’s the shape of his eyes and the thick lashes that border them.
“What’s on your mind, Astrid?” he asks in barely more than a whisper.
I’m not about to confess that I’m wondering what it would be like to kiss him, so I shift back to my safe place. It’s the one subject I can discuss with enthusiasm with anyone.
“Lulu Jenkins,” I say. “You loved her music, didn’t you?”
He rests his forearm on the table to lean closer to me. “Each lyric and every single note.”
Chapter Fifteen
Berk
A soft shade of pink has settled over Astrid’s cheeks since our drinks were served. She took a large gulp of hers almost immediately.
That brought a smile to my face.
She’s nervous.
I see it not only in the flush of her skin, but I can hear it in the slight tremor of her voice whenever she speaks.
She finally slides off her leather jacket to reveal the T-shirt underneath.
I divert my gaze because I’m not about to get caught staring at her tits.
“So you liked Lulu Jenkins,” she pauses briefly to suck in an audible breath. “Did you have a chance to listen to either of the other albums?”
I stayed up half the night listening to them.
I don’t know if it was because it was so damn relaxing or if I was searching for some hidden clues in the music or the lyrics. Astrid told me that those three albums topped her list of favorites, so I was hopeful that they’d give me a glimpse into the woman she is.
I suspect the drink in her hand will give me more insight than those albums have.
Astrid Rehn is a lightweight when it comes to alcohol.
Her words aren’t slurred, but she’s inching closer to that.
“I listened to both,” I confess because I don’t give a shit if she knows that I was eager to see her to report back with my thoughts about the music.
“Both?” Her brow knits as she waves two fingers on her left hand in the air.
I reach for her hand, snatching it in mine before she knows what’s happening.
That lures a soft sound from her. It’s something akin to a tiny whimper with a gasp wrapped around it.
I like it.
I gently flip her hand over to reveal her wrist.
I draw my gaze back up to meet hers. “That tattoo. Tell me about it, Astrid.”
Her eyes wander over my face. “What tattoo?”