"We guitar playing types are like that," he quipped, a slightly mischievous smile taking up his lips. Their short interaction over her journal hadn't been forgotten, obviously.
He felt a bit of heat coming into his own cheeks when she inquired how often he did such things. The answer was never, "Then my goal has been met," he teased, wondering just what she meant by what he was doing to her heart...there were a few possibilities, though he shrugged softly, "Oh no, never. In fact, I'm not usually fantastic at wooing. I've had to count on my devilishly handsome looks and my rock star status for everything. But apparently you're just easy for me to talk to. So, you're the only one."
He strolled just a few steps closer and turned to lean his back against the counter where she was sitting, looking up at Emma with her halo of golden hair, "You're also the only lass I've ever sent flowers to, come to think of it. There's just an abundance of 'only's piling up."