“So if you'll all indulge me for a few minutes,” Paige continued, “I'd like to do a song or two for you as well.”
The men behind her, each with an instrument of their own, began to play, and the lights in the chamber all dimmed. A single spear of light locked on to her, highlighting her, and I was thankful it did. She was absolutely exquisite.
And when she began to sing, she was so much more. I sat at the edge of my seat, completely entranced by her. Paige was amazing, and the power she conveyed through her music made her that much more so.
As I watched her, I knew that I was going to have to meet her.
Chapter Eleven: Paige
I came off stage to thunderous applause and felt the heat creeping in at the edges of my face. I didn't sing for the applause or the attention. I sang because it filled an emotional need within me. But hearing others respond so favorably to it, how could I not be both excited and humbled by that?
But during my set, I'd almost stumbled through a song after seeing him. He was sitting near the back of the Tavern, his eyes locked on mine and he seemed to hang onto every word I sang. He was, for lack of a better word, amazing.
Even from across the room, he'd caught my attention. His skin iridescent – pale white with a cool tone to it. Though he sat beneath lighting that had been dimmed, he seemed to glow. His skin appeared almost blue, but that wasn't possible. Not at all.
His hair, on the other hand, was a stark contrast to his paleness. Rich and black, almost blue-black. It was sleek, silky, and long. I normally didn't like long hair on men, but on him, it was a nice touch. It made him look regal as opposed to looking like a scruffy, wannabe rebel.
“Wow, look at him,” Josie whispered as she sidled up next to me at the bar.
She stared at the man, too, and her eyes transfixed on him as he walked toward us. There was something about the way he held himself and the way he dressed that told me he wasn't from around here. The Mahogany Tavern was a laid back, casual place. Most people wore nice pants and shirts. The ladies might wear skirts and dresses, but nothing too formal. It was meant to be relaxing, fun, and with just a hint of sophistication added into the mix.
But the stranger's clothing choice made him look as if he were on his way to a wedding, or maybe even a funeral. He was wearing a form-fitting suit that appeared tailored to his body perfectly – all black with only a dark blue bow tie. Yes, a bow tie. It almost made him look like James Bond, if James Bond wore blue bow ties and was pale as a ghost.
Now, he was walking toward us, his eyes locked on mine.
“He's coming over here,” Josie cooed. “Looks like someone has a fan.”
“Shut up,” I mumbled, not intending to be rude. My skin was flushed and I could feel it burning.
“I'm just going to go over here, maybe get a little something to drink,” Josie said with an approving wink.
The man stepped up beside me, and I turned toward the bar, leaning against it. He looked at me for a moment and then mirrored my behavior.
“I'm sorry if I am bothering you,” the man said, speaking slowly and with an accent I couldn't quite place. “I was mesmerized by your voice and just had to introduce myself. My name is Baz.”
He reached out his hand, offering it to me. He actually wanted to shake my hand. Outside of business, who even did that anymore?
“Thank you, Baz,” I said, staring down at his hand and making no move to take it. Eventually, seeing that I wasn't going to take it, he dropped his hand down to his side. “I appreciate that, but really, I'm not in the mood to chat–”
“What's your name?” he asked me bluntly, obviously not taking the hint. “I must know your name. The people in the crowd said it is Paige. Is that your real name?”
Must? “It's Paige,” I said.
“Paige,” he said softly, as if mulling over the word, perfecting it with his foreign tongue. “Paige. What an intriguing name that is.”
“Intriguing?”
Baz's face fell, and he looked like I'd smacked him. Seeing the sudden sadness on his face made me cringe. Maybe English wasn't his first language, and there I was being an asshole.
“This is where you will want to compliment her,” Anjol said inside Baz’s head.
“About time you showed up,” I replied to Anjol. “I could use some help.”
“Access your files on human mating rituals.”
I called them up from my biosuit and quickly reviewed as much as I could. I quickly settled on something that sounded – friendly. Pleasant even.”
“Sorry, I just meant – ummm – well, it's a pretty name for a pretty woman, that's all.”
“Okay, Baz,” I said, pushing myself away from the bar. “Listen, I appreciate your compliments toward my music and all that. I really do. But I'm not up to chatting with strange men tonight. Or really any night, so if you don't mind–”
I started to walk away, but he grabbed my hand. At first, I was pissed. I couldn't believe he was touching me! But as I met his gaze, I could see that he was trying to figure me out. He looked like a puppy who'd been kicked, but couldn't figure out why.
Sure, I was under no obligation to keep talking to him or even feel bad about it. But something in his eyes and the way he looked at me kept me standing there. Instead of smacking him, as I felt like doing for grabbing me, I asked him a question.
“Where are you from, Baz?” I asked. “Because in our country, we don't touch women without their permission.”
Again, there was the look of shock and hurt on his face as he stepped away from me, putting some distance between himself and me.
“I'm so, so sorry, Paige, I had not intended to – I'm not from around here, you see.”
“I can tell,” I said. Baz gave me a look of confusion again, prompting me to be clear. “The accent, being overdressed for such a casual place.”
And your appearance, I might add. But that might come off as offensive. Or at the very least, insensitive. After all, he didn't look Caucasian, but he was too pale to be anything but white. His race was undefined, as was his accent. I was left puzzled, wanting to know more, yet also wanting to get the hell away from this handsome stranger who clearly had eyes for me.
Chapter Twelve
“I'm not sure if I should get you a restraining order,” Josie said. “Or start picking out wedding china for you.”
I grinned. For the sixth straight night, the stranger who called himself Baz was in the audience. Though I knew that I was at least part of the reason for his consecutive night streak, I also believed that he had a fondness for the music being played. No matter who was on stage, his attention remained fixed on them, and he soaked up every last bit of their music, seeming to be absolutely mesmerized by it.
So while some might think it stalkerish or creepy that he was in my club night after night after night, I knew that it was because he genuinely loved the music being put out. I'd actually spoken to him a little bit each night and knew that he was far from creepy. He was just a foreign guy in a new land, trying to figure it all out. Though he could sometimes come off as having a little more machismo than I would have cared for, I couldn't deny that there was a gentle sweetness to him as well.
“You might want to have both in the queue,” I laughed.
She raised an eyebrow and looked at me. “Oh really now?”
I looked over at her and saw that I'd probably put ideas into her head that didn't need to be there.
“No, I was kidding,” I said.
“Are you sure?” Josie asked. “Because you've spent some quality time with him–”
“Ha,” I said, cutting her off as I grabbed a bottle of water from behind the bar and cracked it open. “I've spoken to him a few times here at the club.”
Josie took a drink from her own bottle of water before she spoke again. “In your world, multiple conversations with a guy almost qualifies as a relationship.”
I gave her the finger but couldn't stop myself from laughing. “Screw you.”
Josie shrugged. “Just callin' it like I see it.”
“Yeah? And what is it you're seeing with that magic eye of yours?”
Josie looked from Baz to me, then back to Baz, and back to me again. I intentionally faced away from him to avoid looking at him. The last thing I wanted to do in that moment was encourage her or him. I looked at her and raised an eyebrow.
“I'm thinking that maybe, our favorite little foreigner is melting the heart of the ice queen,” Josie said.
I shook my head and laughed. Josie was persistent; I had to give her that. Mikayla Wilkens finished up on stage. She was young at just twenty-two years old, but she was definitely an up and comer. She had a voice that could make the angels cry, a natural talent on multiple instruments, and she wrote some of the most eloquent and emotionally-pure songs around.
“I'm just saying,” Josie continued, “he seems like a nice guy. Odd and quirky as hell, but nice. And he's the first man I've seen you interact with in a really, really long time that didn't end up with him running out of the club like you'd just threatened to cut his balls off with a spoon.”
“And your point is?”
“That maybe – just maybe – there's something to the idea that he might actually unlock something inside of you. Or at least, that maybe you're intrigued enough by him to keep seeing him.”
“Seeing him?” I laughed. “He comes into my bar. He's a paying customer. What am I supposed to do?”
Josie laughed. “Send him packing like every other guy who steps in here with the idea of talking to you. The fact that you don't – maybe it's something to think about.”
“Or maybe it's not,” I said.
“Well, figure it out quick, hon,” she said. “Your white knight is coming over to see you again.”
Baz smiled wide when he saw me, and it gave him a very sweet, boyish look. There was no disputing the fact that he was a gorgeous man – I saw the heads of my entire wait staff turn and look at him when he walked by. His good looks were otherworldly. I hadn't heard a man ever called ethereal before, but that's what he was.
“Good evening, Paige,” he said as he leaned against the bar.
It was a move that was intended to look smooth and casual, but when he did it, somehow it looked stiff and awkward.
“Good evening, Baz,” I said. “You are persistent; I will give you that.”
He smiled. “I am led to believe that persistence pays off in the end.”
“Oh?” I asked. “And what sort of payoff are you hoping for?”
He shrugged. “I do not know yet. Perhaps the chance to speak with you in a place other than your Tavern.”
I took a drink from my bottle of water. “And what's wrong with the Tavern?”
“Nothing at all,” he replied. “But I would like the chance to speak to you when you're not so – distracted.”
I looked at him and could see the confidence brimming within him. He was getting a little bit better about not sounding so stiff and awkward. The words coming out of his mouth seemed far more natural, and he'd been nothing but exceedingly respectful. He was learning.
“And how did you like the music this evening?” I asked.
He looked at me with an expression that told me he'd been enraptured by it. “It was amazing. Truly amazing,” he said. “I was disappointed that you didn't perform, though.”
I shrugged. “I don't perform every night,” I said. “Being the owner of the place, I sometimes have a pretty full plate.”
“Of course,” he said. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply–”
“It's okay, Baz,” I said. “Seriously.”
There was an inscrutable expression his face. One that read like frustration as if he were angry with himself for being so painfully awkward and not really being very good at chatting a woman up.
“Where are you from, Baz?” I asked.
He gave me a rueful grin. “A place you've probably never heard of before,” he said. “Nothing like this place, that's for sure.”
“Try me,” I said. “I've done a bit of traveling in my life.”
Baz laughed. “Probably not to where I come from,” he said.
I smiled in spite of myself. There was no denying Baz's charm and charisma. He had that in spades. For the first time in a very long time, I wasn't in a hurry to rush away from a man. Baz intrigued me. There was so much about him that was serious. Cloaked in shadow. I had the feeling that there was a lot to his story.
And it shocked to know that I wanted to learn his story. I was of two minds about it, torn between my head and my heart. I knew I wasn't ready for a relationship. But I also knew that they only way to be ready was to actually be open to one.
I wasn't quite there yet, but something about Baz was putting doubts in my own head about that.
“Listen, Paige,” Baz said. “Can I possibly interest you in perhaps, accompanying me out one night? You can bring a chaperone, if you wish.”
“A chaperone?” I laughed.
He cocked his head and looked over at me. “Is that funny?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.
“I don't wish to frighten you,” I said. “The thought of you dealing with that pains me. I just want you to know that I am on what you call, the up and up. There wouldn't be any monkey business, I assure you.”
“Monkey business?” I asked and grinned. “What era are you in?”
“The current one, of course,” he said, not seeming to understand my humor.
I laughed without meaning to, and an expression of hurt crossed Baz's features. He was trying so very hard. I opened my mouth to speak and was surprised by what came out.
“You know what?” I asked. “I'd love to go out with you. And don't worry, we don't need a chaperone.”
He looked at me with an expression of stunned disbelief. “Truly?” he asked.
“Truly,” I said.
I had no idea what possessed me to agree to go out with him, but it didn't look like I had much of a choice anymore. I looked over at Josie who shot me a wink and flashed me a smile, obviously overhearing our conversation and approving of it.
It was just a little conversation over coffee or something. Nothing major, and definitely no commitment implied. Worst case scenario, it doesn't go well and I lose a customer at the Tavern. Not the end of the world.
Chapter Thirteen
The sun was shining down upon the bay, reflecting off the water and nearly blinding me with the dazzling brilliance. Baz seemed to be soaking up both the sunshine and the salty sea air. His head was thrown back and his eyes closed as he breathed in deeply, looking relaxed and far less awkward for the first time since we'd met.
I couldn't help but stare at him, in awe of his sheer beauty. His pale skin was the purest white I'd ever seen. Some people might look sickly being that pale, but not Baz. Somehow, he made it look not only healthy, but natural. It was as if he was not a man, but rather was made of stone like he had been carved from alabaster, perhaps. He was reminiscent of a statue you'd expect to see in a museum.
And knowing that I had such a strong reaction to his physical attributes, I knew I was going to have to be doubly on guard to not let myself get too deeply involved or otherwise do something stupid.
His hair was a stark contrast to his skin. The sun brought out bluish highlights in his otherwise jet-black hair. It was silky and long, and he'd worn it free, letting it catch the wind and wrap around his face as he soaked in the surroundings.
A picnic on the bay had been his idea, and he seemed to be enjoying himself. Even before we started eating or talking much, I saw a very different side to this strange, mysterious, and completely alluring man.
“I love the sea,” he said with a wistful sigh, opening his eyes and smiling at me.
“Me too,” I said. “I always have.”
Baz's eyes twinkled, as if having something in common with me was the highlight of his day.
“What do you love about it?” he asked me, his voice soft.
&nb
sp; “I dunno,” I said with a shrug. “Just everything – the smell, the waves crashing on the shore, the cool air that whips through your hair when you're close by. I feel more myself when I'm by the water.”
“So do I,” he said. “It just feels right, and I most definitely feel more like myself near the water.”
I had to agree. He did seem a whole lot more normal out by the bay than he ever did in the Tavern. He seemed more natural and more comfortable, as if somehow just being close to the sea brought him an inner peace. It was a feeling I wholly understood.
The way he looked at me in that shared moment, however, made my cheeks flush.
I kept talking, trying to fill the void with conversation. Silence was always nerve-racking to me, but even more so on a first date. I caught myself as soon as I'd thought it. Date? Was this really a date? I didn't know what to think of it, but I knew that I had to keep tight watch on my emotions.
“Great idea for a picnic out here,” I said. “Such a beautiful day.”
“It is,” he said. “Is this normal? The weather, I mean?”
“It is. Sunny and warm most of the year, but not too warm. It's heavenly,” I said. “Speaking of which, where are you from again?”
Baz didn't answer. Instead, he looked up at the sky, a strange look on his face. Squinting, he just kept staring, as if he saw something unsettling – which made me turn and look. As soon as I did, however, I felt Baz grab me, pushing my face down into the blanket. Terror tore through my body as I feared the worst – was this man crazy? Was he going to hurt me? What was he going to do to me?
“Sorry, I just–” he started to stammer, standing up and nearly tripping over his feet in the process.
“What the hell, Baz? What are you doing?”
“I'll explain later,” he said, rushing off away from me. “We don't have time right now.”
“Time? Explain?”
But my question wasn't heard because Baz was too far away, walking toward the water, staring up at the sky, seeming to mumble to himself.
“Baz!” I called out, climbing to my feet. “Where are you going?”
Mated to a Bear (Legends of Black Salmon Falls Book 3) Page 19