“You play flute?” I asked him, trying to sound casual.
“Sure do.” He winked and grinned. He was a very winky guy. And cute. “Do youplay flute?”
I tried to keep a straight face. “I’ve been known to play a flute or two in my day.”
Peter laughed and put the instrument to his lips—soft-looking lips, I noted. He blew a few bars of a jaunty tune, long fingers nimbly dancing on the wooden body.
Christ, get ahold of yourself, Eli. Not even two beers in and you’re eyeballing this guy’s flute like it’s his dick. And did you just flirt with him? Jesus, no more beer. I finished tuning my violin and played a quick warm-up. Katie had planted her ass on the couch with her pink, bedazzled phone in hand, but she was watching me. She hadn’t stopped smiling since we arrived. Her face had to hurt. Or maybe her smile-muscles were in much better shape than my own, due to the fact that she used them much more than I used mine.