The song ended, and Mike and Matt were playfully bowing down to her talent, making her throw her head back and laugh. His deep voice behind her made her startle.
"That an invitation, Shorty?" he lewdly asked, making everyone in the room roll their eyes. He grinned when she frowned and then opened up his guitar case. "'Because I think you already know my answer."
"Dude—can we please just play?" James asked.
Alisha sent James a grateful smile. "I'm with James. Let's just get this over with."
He opened his mouth to tell her that she wouldn't be saying that when they slept together, but James's warning look stopped him. So he smirked instead and pulled the strap of his guitar around him. "Got anything else you want to share with us, Larrington?"
She shot him a steely look and walked past him to dig out the music she'd brought with her as well as the tambourine he'd given her. "I've got a few ideas," she informed him, passing around the music to the rest of the group.
The rest of rehearsal went off without a hitch. His crude comments were kept to a minimum and she didn't feel the need to brain him with his guitar…probably because she was having a lot more fun that she'd expected. (The tambourine really was as fun to play as it looked.) At one point during Hurts So Good, he caught her eye and smiled, not smirked, actually smiled, and she felt her pulse trip in her chest. Guess there was some truth in those lyrics. And in all honesty, she found his passion and knowledge for music to be pretty deep and that surprised the hell out of her.
After rehearsal, she quickly gathered her music, placing it neatly into her bag, wanting to get out of there as fast as possible before she did something idiotic, like forget that he was the kind of guy who screws random hobags in bar bathrooms. She made some idle chit-chat with Mike, Matt and James as she got her coat and scarf on. Telling them she'd see them on Saturday, she smiled and headed for the exit, not bothering to address the reason she was there in the first place.
Tugging her hat down as the exceptionally cold November air hit her face; she'd taken approximately four steps before he called out to her. She slowed and turned around to face him. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to deny the attraction she felt just from looking at him. Add in the singing and guitar playing and she was really in over her head. (So not ideal.)
"Larrington, what the hell?" he asked, bridging the gap between them in two greedy strides. The white hat was a stark contrast against her dark hair that fanned over the shoulders of her bright red pea coat. Long lashes framed those deep, gypsy eyes, currently looking up guardedly at him. She looked like a picture as fat snowflakes fell around them and she glanced up at the sky in wonderment, a smile stretching over her face. He kind of wanted to check to see if his junk had fallen off for even thinking such pathetically sappy crap, but when the smile reached her eyes and she looked at him and said, "I thought it smelled like snow," all happy like it was the greatest thing she'd ever seen, he sort of just told his inner dialogue to shut the fuck up already. He hitched up his guitar case on his shoulder. "Where you headed in such a hurry?"
She smiled at him, the snow blinding her to the reasons she'd fled rehearsal so quickly. "Well, now that it's snowing, I'm going to get some hot chocolate and walk around for a while."
He felt the corner of his mouth quirk up into a crooked smile. "I can't believe you like this shit," he teased, gesturing to the snow.
Alisha shrugged her shoulders. (There was that odd gesture again.) "There's something peaceful and magical about it that I love." She waited a beat. "Do you want to walk with me?"
"Hot chocolate a part of the deal?" he asked with a smirk.
She laughed. "Sure."
"Let's go," he grinned, shoving his hands into the pocket of his coat. He really needed to remember his gloves when it was this fucking cold outside.
They walked a block in comfortable silence, the noise of the city oddly muffled by the snow. As they waited for the light to change so they could cross the street, he looked over at her. "I was impressed by your vocal chops today."
She smirked up at him. "Thank you."
"This is where you say I was good, too," he prompted, nudging her shoulder.
"I don't think your ego needs any stroking, Big," Alisha told him frankly.
He bit his tongue, resisting the urge to tell her he had something else she could stroke and mentally patted himself on the back for such a feat. When she looked at him with an arched brow like she'd expected the comment to come spewing forth from his lips, he just flashed a crooked grin. His phone rang, and he fished it from the pocket of his jeans. He frowned at the caller ID.
"Hi, Cap," Big said gruffly, listening as his captain barked orders. "On my way, give me thirty." Sighing, he closed his phone and shoved it back into his pocket. "Sorry—gonna have to bail on our nature walk, Shorty. There's a really big blaze downtown and they need extra men."
"Okay," she nodded, smiling softly. "I'll see you on Saturday."
"You bet," he smirked. He turned and headed for the subway.
"Hey, Big," Alisha called.
"Yeah?" he asked, turning back.
"Be careful—you know, at work."
Big smiled wickedly, slowly striding back towards
