Page 11 of Clashing
I forced a smile. “Yep.”
“Have a seat. Your burger’s almost ready. You want a whiskey?”
I hopped on the stool. “Please.”
“Here’s the drawing.” He slid the framed piece across the bar top. “It’s really good, Scar. I’m sure someone’s gonna snatch it up.”
I grinned to myself while he flitted to the kitchen. It didn’t matter what happened in my life, praise from Dan would always mean the world to me. I was lucky that he wasn’t stingy with it. I reached for the drawing, but another hand claimed it first. Ryker’s hand.
“You drew this?” He picked up the frame.
My heart rate sped up.Why does his opinion make me nervous?“Yes.”
“It’s incredible.” He rotated it in the light. “I thought maybe Danny talked you up too much. Guess I was wrong. I hear you have some celebrating to do, Scarlett.”
It took me a moment to compose myself at his compliment. And the way he said my name, something he had to be doing on purpose. Unfortunately, I found myself staring at him again. He stared right back. Jackass. At least he returned the drawing before Dan approached.
“Your burger.” Dan slid the plate in front of me, then poured my drink. “Here’s to you, my rising artist.” He clinked his glass of water with my whiskey.
“Thanks.” I giggled, taking a sip. I returned the drawing to its bag and tucked it next to the register. It was time to dig into my glorious burger. I pointedly turned my body away from Ryker while I ate. Why was he here again already anyway?
“Another, Ryker?” Dan called out.
Ryker turned over his glass to Dan. “Thanks.”
“This one’s on the house,” Dan said. “For taking care of that pipe.”
“Not a problem, Danny.” Ryker positioned himself on the stool next to mine.
We both sat on the corner, so it wasn’t as if we were side by side. Still, irritation straightened my spine. There was plenty of space at the bar. He didn’t need to sitrightnext to me. I peeked over to find him glancing over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at something.
I hated how sexy his glare was. I hated how sexy all of him was. I needed to get him off my radar.
“Are you an alcoholic or something?” I blurted out.Wow. Smooth, Scarlett.
Ryker brought his gaze to mine, eyebrows raised. “Areyou?”
“No.” I wiped my face with a napkin. The burger was messy, and the last thing I needed was a verbal sparring match with a slop of ketchup on the corner of my mouth.
“And what makes you think I am, sugar?” He raised his glass to his lips.
I’d like to be that glass.“I’ve barely been here and have already seen you twice. Plus, you seem to lack memory since I told you more than once not to call me that.”
“Well, you called me an alcoholic. I think it’s only fair I get to call yousomething, Scarlett.”
There it was again. He was saying my name differently on purpose.
I dropped my burger. “Do you like saying my name or what?”
“Yeah, I like saying your name. You know what I like more?” He leaned forward on muscled forearms. “Your reaction to me saying your name.”
“I don’t react.”Lie.
“I don’t know about that, Scarlett.”
Heat enveloped my cheeks. He took a drink of my whiskey while maintaining eye contact. When he pushed the glass into my hands, his fingers very intentionally grazed mine and elicited goose bumps. He had nice, long fingers . . .
“You have good taste.” He held up his glass. “Wanna try mine?”
