Page 45 of Sing Your Secrets
“And as for your salary,” Law continues.
I shake my head fervently. “Nothing crazy, okay? You’re giving me a place to live, that’s already generous enough—”
Law holds up his hand as he rolls his eyes. “I have your direct deposit info, so I don’t need to waste the rest of my lunch hour arguing with you about it.” He pulls back the sleeve of his neat navy suit to check his watch. “I have to get back to the office anyway, but let’s start planning this grand re-opening, okay? What will bring people in?”
I nod at the empty glass shelves behind us. “A fully stocked bar and a killer performance.”
Law aims his finger guns at me. He clicks his jaw as he pretends to fire. “Well, that sounds like your area of expertise. I’ll leave you to it.”
“Hey! Am I trespassing?”
Law and I both whip our heads around to the entry of the main hall to see the woman I’ve been dreaming about for the past few nights.
“Sure are,” I call back as I wave her over. “Come here.”
There’s a little pep in her step as the click-clack of her stilettos bounces across the spacious main floor. She’s carrying a bag of takeout and judging by the salty, fried smell, my favorite kettle chips are in the greasy brown bag.
“Law, this is Reese Reyes. Reese, this is my cousin, Lawrence Miller.”
Reese extends her unoccupied hand. “Nice to meet you. This place is really coming along,” she says while rotating her head and taking in the empty building that looks far more spacious with all the crap and debris removed.
“I was just complimenting Miles on his tireless work,” Law says. He shakes her hand delicately like he doesn’t want to break it. Reese can’t be taller than five-foot-five, and even though she’s curvy in all the right places, she’s still relatively petite. Next to me, Law, and a crew of particularly burly construction workers, she looks like a fun-sized candy bar.
“I brought sustenance.” She holds up the bag from Out West. “But sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just popped by to see when you wanted us to deliver the PA system.”
“It’s no interruption,” Law assures her. “I’m on my way back to the office anyway.” He shoots me a concerned look. “What PA system?” Translated as, what did you spend my money on?
“It’s a sound system,” I explain. “Reese’s dad donated an entire set of tops, subwoofers, amps, and a mixing console he had in storage.”
Reese nods proudly. “I checked it out. You’ll probably need to get a stage monitor, but other than that it’s pretty complete. My dad said he’s happy to help install it. It’s top-of-the-line equipment, you’ll need a sound engineer.”
Law looks from Reese to me, then back to Reese. “Um, well first of all—thank you,” he says unsurely, “and second of all—what?”
Scrunching my nose at Reese, I point to Law with my thumb. “I’m pretty sure he thought we could just open Spotify and plug in our phones to a big speaker to put on a concert. He’s mostly just interested in the money side.”
“Ah,” Reese says nodding in understanding as her bouncy blonde curls dance around her face. “Well, in money terms,” she says, smiling at Law, “my dad just saved you guys about eighteen grand.”
Reese grunts in surprise as Law yanks her into an aggressive hug, suddenly not so concerned about manhandling her. “Bless you.”
She’s chuckling when he finally releases her and she can breathe again. “Bless you. We’re all really excited. Thank you,” she glances at me with a smile that lights my whole day up, “both. I didn’t think I’d ever see this place come back to life.”
Glancing between us one more time and shooting me an obvious smirk, Law wishes us both a nice lunch and leaves. The minute he’s out of sight, she grabs my hand and squeezes.
“You look nice,” she lies. I’m covered in dust, sweat, and grime, and once again she’s in one of her sexy form-fitting business get-ups. Today’s outfit of temptation is a sleeveless, knee-length, dark green business dress. I lean against the wooden frame of the bar and Reese wedges herself between my legs. “And that rancid smell is gone, so this is already shaping up to be a really nice third date.”
“Third?”
She holds up one finger. “The first sandwich we shared.” She holds up a second. “The time I saved your ass from an entire night of homelessness.” Her smile goes wicked. “And you know what they say about third dates…”
I kiss the tip of her nose. “Nice try, Reese. As enticed as I am, I’m very highly motivated.” Taking the bag from her hand, I pull her toward the backstage room, which has been emptied, cleaned, and furnished as a makeshift break room for the renovation crew.
Reese watches me unpack the bag of takeout on a flimsy, gray-speckled fold-out table. Unfolding two napkins, I spread them flat on the tabletop, making placemats for us both. I already know what she brought us before I take out the two French dip sandwiches, with only one cup of au jus.
“Highly motivated to what?”
I meet her light brown eyes with no hesitation. “To show you that you’re the kind of woman a man should put effort in for. Fucking you like it’s not a big deal is lazy. I want to work for it.”
She peers at me, her face growing serious. “Who are you?”