Where the hell did that shit come from?
I take a deep breath and direct my attention back to the conversation.
“Tillie will be at rehearsal tomorrow so she can get a feel for your music. She’s listened to your albums, but there’s nothing like hearing the band live,” Oliver informs.
“Trust me, Tillie, you’ll melt when you hear them. I still do, and I’ve heard them a ton of times,” Lunar states.
“Aww… thanks, babe.” Danger leans in, kissing Lunar’s temple.
Chapter Two
TILLIE
It’s my second day officially working for Recoil, and I must admit I am excited to hear their sound live. I’ve heard them on the radio, and they’re good. Really good.
Being in this industry for a few years has given me a solid ear for talent, and hearing this band excites me. Plus, having my parents in the business has taught me a thing or two. I just hope Recoil is reliable and doesn’t create too much drama and media hype for me to manage. I can’t stand spoiled rock stars with their over-demanding ways and high-maintenance attitudes.
Danger and Lunar are in their own world, so I’m not too worried about them. Then there’s Ryan, who’s on edge for some reason that I have yet to learn. Nate is grumpy at the best of times. Matt, well, I don’t know enough about him yet, so I’m not sure about his lifestyle or issues. He seems quieter than the others, more like the peacekeeper. Perhaps he’ll be the least of my concerns.
I turn my car off and slide out, remembering to put the top up on my red VW Golf Cabrio. There are dark, ominous clouds rolling in through the gray September sky from the west—I hope this isn’t an omen for my day.
Making my way inside the studio, I spot Oliver. His short, spiked blond hair looks precision-perfect as always. I’ve known him for a while, and his good looks never fade. His strong jawline is cleanly shaven, and his blue eyes sparkle with excitement. He’s a good-looking guy, and I’m sure under the business attire he’s built. He is inside the studio with the band as I enter the sound room to chat with Lunar.
“How are you today?” I ask.
She turns and smiles. “Hey, Tillie. Good thanks. Glad you could make it. You wait till you hear them play. You’re gonna die. Like literally keel over and shrivel up like a corpse.”
Raising an eyebrow at her vivid imagery, I smirk. “Wow! Not sure I like that idea. I’d like to see my twenty-eighth birthday in normal style rather than a shriveled-up zombie.”
She laughs. “Don’t worry, you’ll only die just enough to know you’re living. I promise.”
“You’re a little bit weird.” I chuckle, hoping it doesn’t come off as awkward.
“Yeah. Think being with a bunch of bikers for so long has made me a tad morbid. But you’ll get used to me. Don’t worry,” she says, patting the stool next to her.
“Bikers?” I ask, wondering what the hell that means.
“Oh, I thought you might have known my background.” I shake my head. “I used to be a club girl with the Satan’s Savages MC back in Australia. When I found Danger, I left and joined the band on tour. It’s a whole story, and I can talk to you about it one day if you want to know.”
As I sit down, I cross my legs. My sky-high heel hooks over the bottom rung while the guys pick up their guitars, and Nate sits at his drum kit. “Sounds amazing. I would never have guessed—”
She taps my leg. “Here we go. Hold on to your tits, Tillie,” Lunar quips, effectively cutting that conversation.
I smile wide as she stares at Danger in a state of awe. The love oozing from this woman is palpable, and it makes me jealous to the point where I wish I loved someone like that.
The music starts, distracting me, so I turn to watch the guys. The thing about Recoil is that they're all so goddamn good-looking—every single one of them. I can’t tell Matt and Nate apart, except for when their different tattooed arms are showing. Danger is smoking hot, and Ryan? Even though he doesn’t have the built body with the defined abs the other guys have, it’s allabout his face. He is so handsome and refined, but has an edge, that childlike boyish look with a bad-boy persona.
He’s definitely my type, but I can’t go there. Not only because, technically, he’s my boss, but also because he has made no attempt to hide the fact that he hates me. My thoughts are muted when Ryan breaks into a solo on his guitar, leading into the song. This man is making love to the guitar, and the sounds it produces are pure musical genius, causing my heart to leap into my throat as he plucks the strings.
Lunar’s right.
I am dying.
Because staring at Ryan and the way he’s playing is complete torturous agony. I want to run to him, wrap my arms around his body, and smother myself in him. There’s something about the way he moves with his instrument that makes me weak at the knees.
Danger starts to sing, and his voice is mixed with the beats and melody of the music, sending a rush of endorphins through me like nothing I’ve ever experienced. And believe me, I have worked with and listened to great bands in the past. Sure, on the radio or in the car, Recoil’s sound is excellent, but live, it’s fucking electrifying with volts of pure energy running through me.
While staring at Ryan, my body pulses with need, my breathing breathy and harsh. I’ve never had a rush like this, and I know this manwillbe my undoing. Hewillbe the death of me, just as Lunar has predicted.
