When his focus turns back to me, he shakes his head. “I’ve got the room, and with my schedule, I won’t be around too much to bother you. But there’d need to be ground rules.”
Is he…? “I can’t—”
“Before you say no,” he cuts me off, “at least come get some dinner with me. I’m hungry and I do my best talking when my stomach is full. One dinner, Rylee. That’s all I’m asking.”
“But why?” My brass question has him arching his eyebrows. If I had money to spare, I’d bet not many people have questioned him. “You have no idea who I am, so there’s no reason for you to waste your time to help me. I’m nowhere near your level of fame or wealth. In fact, we’re exact opposites. It doesn’t make any sense why you’d take me on like a charity case when you can be focused on anything else.”
Saying it out loud only makes me more doubtful of his motives. It isn’t like a kind celebrity is unheard of. You hear about those types of good-natured human interest pieces surrounding stars all the time, but it’s almost always attached to an ulterior motive. Very few people in this industry are genuine.
“I never want to hear you call yourself a charity case again,” he informs me, voice low like the not untrue label offends him. “I used to hear people call my mother that growing up. It’s common knowledge by now that I started from nothing, from the very bottom. Food stamps. Near homelessness. I was helpless to do shit and my mother was prideful. I still hate when people think getting help means they’re worth nothing more than somebody else’s charity.”
I blush over his explanation, feeling bad that I struck a nerve when he means well. But I don’t get a chance to apologize before he tells me, “It’s your eyes.”
Instinctively, my fingertips flutter to the bags I know are under them from the bad sleep I’ve gotten over the past couple of weeks.
His hands go into the pockets of his jeans, ones that fit his long legs a little too well, as he lifts his shoulders. “You know how people say that the eyes are the mirror to the soul?”
I nod once.
“Well, your eyes are kind. Sad, but kind. Genuine. And…hopeful. You remind me of some of my favorite people in life, and that makes it hard for me to miss an opportunity.”
A dry, doubtful laugh bubbles past my lips as I cross my arms over my chest. “And what opportunity is that?”
There’s not one moment of hesitation from him. “To help you.”
I stare.
He stares back.
I let out a breath.
He gestures behind him. “Dinner. Everyone needs food, and I’ll buy. Hear me out, Rylee. If you don’t like anything I have to say, then you can come here and do things on your own. But I’m more than willing to help in any way I can.”
It’s hard to think when he’s watching me with a close eye, speculating what my answer will be. I want to tell him no because I’m stubborn—to find some way to back out of what he’s willing to do.
“I don’t want to be an ‘opportunity’ to you either,” I inform him.
“Everybody is an opportunity to somebody else,” he counters confidently. “The difference is how you let the moment unfold. I’m not here to use you for anything, but I am offering you that curtesy.”
Pressing my lips together, I turn to face the building again and study the distant silhouettes of people inside. If I decide to walk away from Garrick, then I’d be walking into a warm place to sleep, somewhere to eat free food, and feel less embarrassed than if I walked away with the singer who’s waiting for an answer.
So even I’m surprised when I say, “One meal, that’s it.”
And even as I say it, the conviction in my tone laughs at me like it can taste the lie.
The tongs of the fork scrape against the ceramic plate as I move around the vegetables. I know the man sitting across from me is staring, but I don’t feel like paying him any attention.
After a while of listening to the soft, classical music playing from somewhere in the room, and the soft-spoken chatter of other customers around us, I stab one of the carrots and say, “You should eat before that gets cold.”
His steak smells amazing, but it was also the priciest thing on the menu. I’ve never liked taking advantage of others when they’ve offered to pay, even if they insist. Next to the antipasto salad, this chicken dish was the next cheapest item.
Suddenly, my plate is pulled away from me and a new one appears. The juicy meat I was eyeballing as soon as the waiter dropped it in front of Garrick is now taunting me mere inches from my face.
I have no option but to look at him for the first time since a waiter dressed in fancy garb seated us. “Why did you do that? I wasn’t done eating—”
“You ate two carrots, love. And you looked absolutely miserable doing it.” He picks up his fork and knife and starts cutting the seasoned chicken breast I ordered. “You were eyeing my steak like I eye most women. I was a little jealous to be honest. First time I’ve ever gotten green over a slab of meat.”
My lips flatten. “Stop doing that. Your charm isn’t going to work on me.” Lie. “And I agreed to dinner so we could talk but you’ve barely
