Page 19 of Ring Me

He'd beaten me to the restaurant—I saw him sitting at a booth in the back, his attention on the drink in his hand. He looked as good as he had on Friday night. Dark jeans, polished boots, and a tight-in-the-right-spots half-sleeve black shirt.

“Can I help you?” the host—a young blonde woman—asked me.

I pointed. “I'm meeting with him.”

She followed my gesture, then whistled. “Don't let me keep you, go ahead.”

Her reaction sent a small spark of pride through my blood. Conner was undeniably handsome. Knowing he was here for me made me swell with way too many gushy feelings. I had to focus. This was business.

When I neared his booth, he lifted his head, gracing me with a toothy smile. I didn't know what he did for work, but if he wasn't performing in teeth whitening commercials, he was wasting his talent. “I hope you didn't wait long,” I said. “I'm usually the early one.”

“After you beat me to the bar last time, I thought I'd try my hand at being first.” He winked, then stood up, waiting for me to sit.

“Such a gentleman,” I teased, settling onto the soft red cushion. “How are you doing?”

“Better now.”

I blushed, unsure how to make small talk. Everything we had to discuss was either sexual, or just awkward. I'd thought this would be easier than it was turning out to be. To my relief, the waiter approached us with a pad of paper in hand. “Hey there! Welcome to Stony's! Can I get you two something to drink?”

“Another whiskey, neat,” Conner said, tilting his glass.

“I'll have the same. Top shelf, please.”

“Could I see some ID?” the waiter asked politely. I whipped my license out of my purse, handing it over. “Perfect. I'll be right back with your drinks.”

Conner nodded at my ID as I tucked it away. “You found it.”

“Sort of. Someone else did, they returned it to me.”

“Huh. Most people would chuck it in the trash, or use it for petty fraud. Lucky you, landing the nice citizen.”

I pursed my lips tightly. “I wouldn't call him nice.” Realizing what I'd said, I looked across at Conner sheepishly. “It was my ex-boyfriend that found it and brought it back to me.”

Conner hunched closer, eyes narrowing. “A not so nice ex-boyfriend?” I nodded slowly. “How bad are we talking?”

“I really don't want to go into it.”

“Good,” he chuckled. “It makes me feel better that you don't. I have a jealous bone or two.”

His smile was contagious. “You don't strike me as the type.”

“Would you like me to scowl at the waiter when he comes back? He was trying to look down your shirt earlier.”

Flushing, I put my hand over my chest. “My shirt isn't even low-cut.”

“If you wore a potato sack, he'd be ogling you all the same. You're beautiful, Cherry.”

I remembered that he'd called me that in the hotel. My heart jumped, but my twisting stomach swallowed it up. “That's not my real name. I wanted to tell you, but then I thought it didn't matter... if we never saw each other again.”

He let out a little dry laugh. “That's some refreshing honesty.”

I bit my lip. “Some would call it cynicism.”

“What's your real name?”

“Maya. Are you mad?”

“Only if you tell me I can't call you Cherry as a nickname.”

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