


I fight the urge to meet his gaze, instead directing my eyes back out to the night. I shake my head no.
He waits a moment and I wonder whether he’s lingering in case I change my mind. I’ve already made a fool out of myself—and out of Coy—and my boyfriend won’t be pleased if I walk back indoors wearing another man’s coat. Sean places the jacket back on and I sneak a glance at his profile. He pats around his pockets and I guess it’s for a lighter. Surprising, since I’ve never seen him smoke, but he did tell Coy that’s what he came out here for.
He pulls out a baggy and when I realize what it is, I almost laugh. Scooping a handful of trail mix, he pauses before putting it in his mouth, and turns his chin to catch my stare. His lips pull into a warm smile. “Sorry, I’m always hungry.” He tosses the food in his mouth and crunches before holding the bag out to me.
“Oh, no, thank you.” I can’t believe he’s packing trail mix. Not only is this a swanky event with tons of free food being offered on polished silver platters, but he’s a famous bad boy rocker . . . smuggling snacks. If People ever got hold of this they’d have it in a full page spread. Probably up the sales of trail mix across the nation. At that I do giggle.
He laughs and cocks his head. “What? I get hungry. I always come prepared.” He winks and I don’t know why, but my mind automatically assumes he’s making a sexual reference. I remember his bare chest this morning all glistened with sweat. Is he really always prepared when he comes? I’m horrible, and my skin heats with further embarrassment for thinking about Sean like that.
He crunches on a few more handfuls of food, shifting so his back leans against the rail until the food is gone. He rolls his neck. “God, I hate these things.” He shifts uncomfortably.
“Charity galas?” Curiosity gets the best of me. This man, the entire band, has ignited an unnatural interest. I sneak another glance as his mouth pulls up in a smirk.
“No, smartass. Dress clothes.” He lets loose a gravelly chuckle.
Twisting to study his face better, I lean my hip on the railing and face him. His smile, a little wicked and even more genuine, pulls my own lips into a grin. “Me, too,” I admit.
“What? Not possible.” He shakes his head.
“Why? Only guys are allowed to hate dressing up? Sexist much?” I delight in the smile that stretches his lips wide. “I’m more of a jeans and T-shirt girl.”
“My kinda girl.” A little thrill bubbles up with his words and while I should avert my gaze, I can’t help but delight in watching his face as he takes me in, an unhurried perusal that begins at my shoes and ends when he reaches my stare. “You look gorgeous tonight. You know that?”
At his words my smile falters and I remember just how I look, along with Coy’s stinging words. I turn back to the landscape.
“You do know that, right?”
I don’t know how to answer Sean without my insecurity creeping into my voice so I ignore his question. He scuffs his heel on the railing and pushes off, taking a few steps forward and letting the empty plastic bag drop to the ground. Thank goodness. He’s going to leave and I can forget his kindness.
“Jessica.” My name falls from his lips with such urgency, I have to turn and meet his gaze. His eyes, the irises brown and almost molten, cause my pulse to quicken, but he offers a sincere and kind smile. “You look beautiful tonight. You’re as pretty in jeans and a T-shirt, too, but you need to know these socialites don’t hold a candle to your beauty.” He holds my gaze and I can’t look away. I can’t breathe. I can hardly think. Not with his compliment holding me immobile. The way he speaks, with so much conviction, I almost believe him. Almost.
My eyes drop as guilt crashes over me. I shouldn’t be out here with Sean. Soaking in the joy from his words. Coy, my boyfriend, is the reason I’m here tonight. Without him I’d be nowhere. Have nothing. “I better get inside.”
“Hey, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” He leans forward and dips down so our eyes meet. His are full of apology and concern. “I’m not hitting on you. You’re with Coy and I respect that. I just wanted to tell you how beautiful you are. All women deserve to be told the truth.”
His words sting and I have to blink back the moisture in my eyes.
“Sorry, that was supposed to make you feel better, not worse.” He rubs one hand at the nape of his neck and blows out an exaggerated breath.
“It’s fine.”
“I’m an idiot. I apologize. Can we go back to where you were smiling like you might want to be friends?”




























