The Right Swipe (Modern Love, #1)(41)

She crossed over to him, passing the cabanas and Ping-Pong tables. This rooftop bar she’d chosen was a cool combo of sophisticated and kitsch. Most importantly, though, it had one of the most stunning views of downtown L.A.

Samson spotted her when she was about four feet away, and his beaming grin almost made her stumble. He was so clearly happy to see her. That had been the first thing she’d liked about him, that night in Cayucos. In a world that played it cool and cynical, his obvious interest had been a breath of fresh air.

Be careful.

“Hey,” he said, and waved the waitress down. He’d dressed casually in jeans and a light sweater, the knit clinging to his biceps.

Rhiannon rested her elbow on the railing and looked out over the city, the distance all the way down dizzying. Fondness for her adopted hometown lifted her mood. Weeknight or not, the never-ending traffic was bustling. “Hi. Did you have any trouble finding the place?”

“Nah, I walked.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Walked?”

A dimple popped into his cheek. “Yes, I walked. It was barely a mile, it would have taken me longer to hitch a ride.”

“Weird.”

“No one in this city likes to walk. I miss it.”

“No one in this city likes to walk because you could get hit by a car. But I’m glad you were able to make it in one piece.”

“Here you go,” the server interrupted them and handed Rhiannon a drink before walking away with a full tray for other customers.

Rhiannon lifted the glass of pink liquid. “You ordered for me?” No one had ordered for her in a very long time, save for Lakshmi.

“Wasn’t hard to guess what you’d like. You always get the same thing.” He frowned. “Was I wrong? Do you want something else?” He was already raising his hand, and she shook her head.

“No, I do always get the same thing.”

“I didn’t expect that. Wouldn’t have pegged you as a creature of habit.”

“I’m not, but I am efficient. I was told a long time ago that staring at a menu and dithering over what you want to order is a sign of weakness.” When she’d first started out, her mentor had told her to pick a signature drink and be done with it, so as not to waste a chance to talk about business. Back then, it had been a gin and tonic, clear and boring.

When she’d started Crush, she’d felt free to order the splash of cranberry juice, tinting the drink pink.

“A sign of weakness?” He stared at her, baffled. “What an odd thing to consider a sign of weakness.”

Lord, if he only knew. Sometimes she felt like her whole life was navigating what was weak and what was strong and always ending up confused and unsure. She nodded at his drink, what looked like a Coke, the same thing he’d ordered the first time they met. “You don’t drink alcohol.” He wasn’t the only one who was observant.

“I don’t. I never really have.” He looked out over the cityscape and gestured at the video being projected on the building across the street. “That’s cool.”

A change of subject, which was fine. Alcohol consumption could be a testy subject. “They usually pick a single artist and broadcast their greatest hits. Must be MJ tonight.” They watched the zombies dancing for a minute. “‘Thriller’ is my favorite.”

“Mine too.” The touch of wind blew a strand of his hair over his forehead. It had grown out since the conference. She wondered if he would cut it short again or let it go long, like when she’d seen him in Cayucos. She’d liked those wavy locks.

She shifted and placed her drink on the table nearby. “You ever think about how the music video wouldn’t make sense if it was shot today?” She continued when he shot her a questioning look. “I mean, technology could take care of this whole problem. Car breaks down? I have a battery starter in my glove box, it’s the size of a tablet. If that doesn’t work? A cell phone would call AAA and help. You wouldn’t have to leave your car to walk down some spooky path with a werewolf.”

“Eh. I don’t know about that.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know about that? A cell phone solves like 99.9 percent of the problems that created conflict in media prior to 1998.”

“Hear me out. You didn’t charge that car starter. You’re out of cell service, or, as is usually the case with me, your phone battery’s run out.” He spread his hands out in front of him. “Boom. Zombie dance. Technology’s only good if it’s functional.”

“Okay, but the setup still might not work.” Rhiannon gestured to the terrified young woman on the screen. “That poor girl’s on a date, possibly a first date? Today’s day and age, she’s got pepper spray or a Taser on her. I’m on a first date, and a guy’s car breaks down, and he magically ‘doesn’t have’ cell service?” She used air quotes. “I’m going to have one hand in my pocket or purse, on my weapon and my keys, ’cause something’s fishy there. A woman with a hair bow that jaunty, she’s a fighter.”

He mulled that over. “You think pepper spray would work on zombies and ghouls?”

“Open membranes are open membranes, son.” She couldn’t hide her smile at his laugh. He had a beautiful laugh, all deep and hearty.

She sobered. It would sound good on camera, which is what they were here for. Rhiannon pulled out her phone and a tripod, setting it up on the table so it would capture some of the scenery. She adjusted it so the music video wasn’t in view. The last thing she wanted was for legal to bitch about how they couldn’t air the thing because of licensing.