Page 90 of If Love Had A Manual

“Lena? Your Lena?”

Yeah, my Lena.

“The nanny?”

Connor peers at me, eyes wide with realization. “Holy shit. This is the nanny? No wonder you don’t let her near the shop.”

Both of them exchange glances, identical grins spreading across their faces. “Man, she is so out of your league,” Connor muses, half-laughing.

They’re right.

I pull my gaze away from them to look at her again—anything to distract myself from the swirl of conflicting thoughts in my head.

I’m the one who hired her. There are lines—lots of them—and she’s behind every single one. But right now, seeing her own this stage, seeing the hush that falls over the crowd as she dips into a lower register…it’s fucking hypnotic.

The song ends on a lingering note. There’s a beat of silence, then the room erupts into applause.

Lena smiles as she leans toward the microphone. “I’ll be back in fifteen,” she says, voice rich with a playful laugh.

She sets the mic aside before stepping off the stage,and the band instantly transitions to a more upbeat number.

Still, I barely notice because I’m too busy tracking her path across the bar, where the bartender already has a drink waiting for her. He winks as he slides it over, and she fucking laughs. I can’t hear it, but I know it well enough that I feel it.

Something sharp twists in my gut. I take a slow pull of my beer to keep my jaw from clenching too hard because all I want to do is grab that smug-looking bastard and rip his eyes from his head just to stop him from undressing her with them.

My mind is mid-spiral when her eyes lock with mine. They widen for just a second before her face melts into a smile.

I swear I can hear her thoughts:Didn’t peg you for a jazz guy, Turner.

I lift my beer, arching an eyebrow as if to say,There’s a lot you don’t know.

Then she starts moving, that dangerous dress hugging every move, until she’s right there.

Up close, she’s even more beautiful.

My mouth goes dry like I’m a teenage boy about to speak to his crush for the first time.

Pathetic.

“So,” she drawls, sipping her water. She casts a glance at Ryan and Connor. “What’s this? You just happen to stroll into a jazz bar? Sounds like the start of an inappropriate joke.”

Ryan laughs, hooking a thumb toward me. “Nah, we dragged him in here. He’s been stunned stupid ever since.”

Connor nods. “Never seen him like this. Even better than the time he realized he’d run out of diapers and had to improvise.”

Lena’s brows shoot up in amusement.

“You never told me you could sing,” I say when I finally untangle my tongue.

A shy smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, right where a blush is blooming across her cheek. “I tend tokeep this to myself. I wasn’t expecting you to walk in, so I guess my secret is out.”

No shit.

I turn to introduce her to Connor and Ryan just to give myself something to do.

She tucks a loose curl behind her ear—a nervous habit, I’ve noticed—then lifts her chin with a small, steady breath. “Nice to finally meet you. Wes has mentioned you.”

Ryan cackles. “He talks about you plenty, too.”

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