Her legs were crossed, still swathed in those modestly sexy tights she had on earlier, and her little foot bounced along with the tune. It wasn’t one I recognized, but she quietly mouthed along with the lyrics, her eyes fixed on the musician.

And when he looked up from his guitar and caught her stare, she flushed so fiercely I could see the crimson even in the dim light of the bar. She quickly tore her gaze away, looking down at her coffee and biting back a smile. By the time she glanced back up at the guy on stage, he had moved on, winking at a couple girls seated close to the stage.

Curiosity had me smiling, and I strolled over to her table, not stopping until I was directly between her and the guy with the guitar.

She blinked when I interrupted her view, like she was surprised to see me, like she’d forgotten she’d even invited — no, demanded — me to come. She startled, nearly spilling her coffee as she sat it down on the table, adjusted her glasses, and stood.

“You’re here.”

I cocked a brow. “Wasn’t I supposed to be?”

“Well, yes, but I—” She covered her surprise with a smile, waving her hand before she gestured to the chair opposite her. “Do you want a beer or something?”

The look I gave her was answer enough, and she tipped a finger up to the waitress walking through the crowd.

The waitress wasted no time in asking me for my ID, and fortunately, I had a pretty stellar fake — thanks to Kyle Robbins. That was about all he was good for outside of being too good of a tight end for me to hate him more than the amount you might hate an annoying little brother.

Once I had my IPA in hand, Giana propped her elbows on the table, steepling her fingertips together and facing me.

“Thank you for coming.”

I nodded.

“Look, I don’t want to be a nag, and I certainly don’t want to be here, working after sunset, any more than you do.” She paused to swipe a curl out of her face, and I realized then that she’d loosened the bun it had been tied up in all day, letting the wild gold and brown and blond strands frame her face like a halo. Her cheeks were peppered in freckles, her lips plump as she pursed them. “Can we just agree to go over this quickly, figure out the solution to our problem, and get some much-needed sleep?”

“What problem do we have, exactly?”

“Oh, other than you nearly biting the head off of an ESPN reporter?” She shrugged, pulling her laptop out of her bag and propping it on the table between us. “Not much.”

“She was a nuisance. They all are.”