Page 5 of Wrong For Me

“This is a hurricane. Rum, passion fruit, lemon juice.”

“Oh my God,” she says, pushing the glass away and wiping at her mouth. “You said you weren’t doing sweet!”

I have to laugh at the outrage in her expression. “Sorry, I just wanted to make sure. Sometimes girlssaythey don’t like girly drinks but really…”

Her eyes narrow. “Are you saying you don’t trust me to know my own preferences because I’m a girl?”

I hold my hands up. “No. Definitely not saying that.”

Her eyes remain angry little slits. “Good. Because saying something that misogynistic is a surefire way to get your testicles punctured with a stiletto heel.”

My eyes widen. “That’s an awfully specific threat.”

She shrugs, smirking a bit. “I have three brothers.”

I laugh and it hits me how much fun I’m having, just talking to her. This doesn’t usually happen, at least not to me. Bodhi hadn’t been entirely wrong when he called me anti-social. It’s not that I hate people—I just don’t always have the easiest time relating to them.

That doesn’t seem to be a problem with Rose, though. And I like that a whole lot more than I want to admit.

She gives me a stern glare across the counter. “Now give me a good one.”

I grin. “Okay, I think this might be it. This is called a gin fizz. It’s a little old school, but I think it’s a classic.”

She takes a sip, her eyes widening. Then she takes another, the softest little moan escaping around the glass. It’s everything I can do not to rip the drink away from her mouth and replace it with my lips.

“Leo, this is good.” Her eyes are wide, excited, and it occurs to me that’s the first time she said my name. I like it. A lot. She takes another sip. “Yeah. I think this might be my drink.”

I nod seriously. “Having a signature drink is an important part of adulthood.”

Rose raises an eyebrow. “What’s yours?”

“Manhattan.”

She bursts out laughing. “The one I hated so much?”

I shrug. “Guess your palette isn’t quite so refined as mine.”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning, the beauty of that smile making the rest of the room go a little fuzzy. This girl is like liquid sunshine. And I just want to get closer to her warmth.

I need to ask for her number. Or ask her to meet me after the concert. Or to run away with me. I don’t even know, I just know I need something more, something big. Something only Rose can give me.

Just when I’m about to embarrass the hell out of myself by voicing any of that, a hand comes down on her shoulder, making her jump.

But this time, it isn’t the overly-excited black-haired friend. This time, it’s a man.

A very, very famous man.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he says, smiling down at her. “I thought you were coming back stage.”

Rose’s entire body has gone still. Her blue eyes shoot back to mine, somehow even wider than they’d been before. “Um, I guess I lost track of the time.”

He grins at her. “Let me guess—dancing with your cousins?”

The man’s laugh sounds a lot like hers. But not nearly so similar as his eyes, which are also an icy-blue. Or his white blond hair.

Rose makes a strangled sound that might be a laugh. “Yup. Pretty much.”

“Well come say hi to your uncles before we go on stage. You know how they get about their good luck charm.”