I hold out my hand and he takes it, gripping hard, his palm brushing against mine and making my heart thunder in my throat. If I was in a different place in my life, I'd seriously consider asking this guy out. Well. I look down at his hand don't see a ring, but he is at the park with a kid.
A gurgling sound draws my attention to a stroller and a baby. Holy crap. Okay, well, clearly this guy's not married but he's obviously taken. Why wouldn't he be? Men this hot don't stay on the market forever and let's be honest, outside of a ridiculous romance novel, where can they be found anyway? In rock bands? Please.
“Zayden Roth,” he says as he looks me up and down again, still smiling that easy smile of his. “Sorry about Kinzie. She's kind of an asshole.” I raise my brows. Never heard a guy call his kid an asshole before, but hey, she … kind of is an asshole. That really did hurt. I rub at my knee and the torn spot on my nude tights. I'm not even sure why I'm wearing them; I never wear tights. Maybe it's because I felt this crazy urge to put on tons of layers today? Like that would protect me from taking them all off later.
I almost start hyperventilating and manage to pull it together at the last second.
“That's okay. I'm sure it was an accident.”
Zayden rolls his gorgeous green eyes, the color pale but striking. Like sea glass.
“I wouldn't necessarily say that. She's kicked and punched me so many times today that I'm seriously considering calling a therapist or something. The kid has issues.”
He snaps his fingers at me and grins a little wider, piercings bright in the sun. I notice his ears are ringed in silver hoops, from bottom to top. I wonder what else is hiding under those clothes? I force myself to take a long, deep breath.
“Which ones are yours?” he asks as he scans the playground and lifts up a hand covered in ink, the knuckles labelled with the word EASY. I wonder what the other says? I crane my neck to try and sneak a peak when he notices and grins big, curling his hands into fists and putting them together for my viewing pleasure.
LIVE EASY.
I smile.
“I'm here with …” I start to say my sister's kids but I don't want to get into the whole torrid story with a sexy stranger. What does it matter? It's not like I'll see the guy ever again anyway. “The beautiful Bella.” I point out my dark haired look-alike. “And gorgeous Grace.”
“Nice alliteration,” the guy purrs as he winks at me and I feel my skin heating up from the inside. “I like a girl who can alliterate.” Zayden leans back, sunlight skipping between the redwood branches above our heads, speckling his skin with sunlight.
“I can rhyme, too. Oh, and list palindromes.”
Zayden grins.
“Sexy. You're a real smarty-pants, huh?”
“I try,” I say, straightening the boring brown skirt I decided to wear today. Again, not my usual style, but I think I'm overcompensating for the whole strip club thing. I feel my face fall, but I can't help the rush of emotion. I don't want to do this. I'm scared. I shouldn't have to do this.
When I glance up, I notice that Zayden's studying me carefully, watching my face like he can sense the emotional turmoil inside of me.
I look away and study the original play set from when I was a kid, a structure of wood and metal that's older than I am. It sits in the center of the park under a copse of old-growth trees. The redwoods are so big they distort the proportions, making it look like the playground's in miniature.
“Something on your mind?” Zayden asks, his voice deepening a little with the change in mood. “I hear I'm a killer listener.” When I look back at him, he's grinning at me again. “Feel like spilling your guts to a stranger?”
“Thanks for the offer, but the thing that's bothering me, there's nothing I can do about it. I'd really just rather forget about it while I can.”
“Fair enough,” he says as he leans back, elbows on the top of the table. “I feel you.”
I smile, but the expression does nothing to shake the awful feeling settling over my shoulders. I have a handful of days left to find another job, something where the hours won't conflict with my school schedule. As of right now, it looks like I'll officially be taking my clothes off for money.
“I like your tats,” I say, gesturing with my chin as I examine a colorful sugar skull on his upper arm. It's mixed in with a strange variety of other things: a bundle of lollipops, a tree with leafless branches, a woman with angel wings, a pinup. This Zayden guy must be an interesting character.
“Thanks,” he says, holding his arms out, so I can get a better look. “I started collecting them when I was eighteen. Think I might be a tad addicted.” Without any prompting, Zayden lifts his shirt up and flashes me his midsection.
Holy … shit.