“You sure? I could make tea.” Rafe headed to the kitchen area against the far wall. “I’m going to make some for myself.”
“Oh, tea? Okay, that’d be nice.”Damn!Rafe Moreno was going to make him tea! If he didn’t see it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it. It seemed the man was different to the picture Parker had built in his mind, although admittedly part of that image was based on what he read in the press, and Harvey did continually talk about what a great guy Rafe was. He resolved to keep an open mind.
Rafe indicated the huge table that ran parallel to the kitchen counter with a tilt of his head. Parker pulled out a chair and sat. He fiddled with his hands, unsure what to do.
“You want some music?”
He nodded, but realised Rafe had his back to him, filling the kettle from the sink, so wouldn’t have seen. “Music would be good.”
Rafe set the kettle to boil and crossed to the table, pulling his iPhone from his pocket. “What do you like to listen to?” He pressed a few buttons and put the device on the table in front of Parker. “Here, choose whatever you want.” He returned to the counter, opening a cupboard and pulling down some mugs. “I’m pretty easy.”
Rafe looked over his shoulder. He chuckled and waggled his brows. Parker felt the heat in his cheeks. God, would he ever be able to handle flirting?If that’s what this is.
Parker ripped his gaze from Rafe’s amused expression and picked up the phone with trembling hands. The Spotify app was open, something of a surprise. He raised his eyes to Rafe. “I thought you’d be a purist like Harvey and listen to vinyl.”
Rafe shrugged. “I have a collection in the studio downstairs, but most of the time it’s easier to stream, especially when I’m travelling. Also I have no idea what you like to listen to and can assure you I don’t have a copy of every piece of music ever recorded, unlike the cloud. You take milk?”
“Yeah, that’d be great, thanks.”
Parker studied the phone, tempted to check out Rafe’s playlists, but instead, with a few taps on the screen, selected Tommy Emmanuel. The acoustic strains of “How Deep Is Your Love” filled the room from hidden speakers.Hot damn, that man is a master on the guitar.
Rafe gestured for Parker to follow and they moved to the lounge area. He placed a mug of steaming tea on the coffee table in front of Parker, then sank onto the couch next to him. Parker took a sip of the hot drink before wrapping both hands around the mug and leaning back. He settled into the cushions, head back, eyes closed, and allowed the music to flow over him.
5
Rafe sipped his Darjeeling as he studied Parker. He appeared relaxed, a gentle smile playing at his lips as he listened to the music. Rafe could tell he was listening from the way his fingers moved in time against the ceramic of the mug he held between his hands. The relaxed posture was reassuring, as initially Rafe worried he’d made a mistake in bringing Parker home.
He didn’t usually invite relative strangers into his personal space, but Parker was different. Sure, he was Harvey’s brother, so they had that connection, but Parker didn’t seem at all like most of the other guys he met, especially on the road. Stu, back at the party for instance—that guy was obviously after a quick hookup with a rock star. After all, they’d barely said two words before the guy was propositioning him, assuming he’d be up for a quick fuck, unlike Parker, who had complimented HyperOctane but had seemed genuinely interested in Rafe beyond the band. Rafe definitely wanted to spend more time with Parker, to get to know him better, but Parker reminded him of a nervous puppy. He was shy and unsure of himself, or maybe he’d been hurt in the past and that accounted for his tentative nature. Rafe hoped it was the former, as the idea of someone hurting Parker made his blood boil. The protective instinct had come out of the blue, and he wanted to wrap Parker up and keep him safe.
Rafe was glad Parker had relaxed, otherwise he would have been putting him in an Uber and sending him on his way. As it was, the handsome guy reclined on his sofa was a sight for sore eyes, and he drank in his fill: slim legs, crossed at the ankle, the slim torso, the elegant fingers wrapped around the cream porcelain mug, the colour of which almost matched Parker’s skin. Not that he could see much skin besides Parker’s hands and the tantalising glimpse of fine, pale wrists. He raised his gaze up Parker’s chest, following the length of his throat and finally reaching his face. Auburn lashes fanned his cheeks, and there was a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose, a nose that was slightly crooked. A white line ran through one eyebrow—the result of an injury?—but regardless of the scar and the off-centre nose, Parker was beautiful. So much so that Rafe’s breath caught in his throat.
Rafe had no trouble getting men into bed and did so often. He had guys falling at his feet, and he’d never hesitated to consider much beyond getting off and getting out of there, so where was this all coming from? He wasn’t the sort of person to give a man a second thought, let alone have these feelings well up. He didn’t know what to do with the sudden tightness in his chest as he gazed at Parker.
The song transitioned into an acoustic version of “Tears in Heaven” and Parker opened his eyes, a sudden flash of that amazing pale green. Rafe swallowed heavily, not at all ashamed at being caught staring—someone that stunning deserved to be admired. Parker’s crystal clear gaze held his, and that spark flared—the same jolt that had connected when they’d first locked eyes.
Rafe blinked and broke the contact.What the…?He wondered if Parker felt it too, or if it was just his overactive imagination. But damn! He cleared his throat and steered the conversation to safe waters before he said something stupid. “I’m surprised by your choice in music.”
“Why?” Parker’s brows drew together, and Rafe was tempted to reach across and smooth them out, run a finger over that tiny flaw in his brow. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing’s the matter with it. I love it. Tommy Emmanuel is one of the best guitarists in the country, and this song is a classic. I just thought you’d have put on something by HyperOctane—”
“You want to listen to your own music on your downtime?” Those eyebrows pulled together again. “That’s plain weird.”
“What? No! That’s not what I meant.” Rafe chuckled. “It’s just that I’m used to people trying to prove how much they love the band by playing our music, or at least choosing something of the same genre because that’s what they think I’ll like.”
“I thought you wanted me to choose somethingIliked.”
“I did. I do, and I love your choice. I especially like the acoustic. Tommy’s style is brilliant. He plays the guitar like a piano—playing the bass, rhythm, and drum parts along with the melody. Fucking awesome.”
Parker smiled, a flash of perfect teeth that lit up his face. He leaned forward and placed his tea on the coffee table. “Pure genius. The acoustic guitar is my favourite instrument. There’s no hiding, and the emotion can be so raw in the right hands.”
“Your brother has the magic touch.”
Parker nodded. “Harvey’s always been able to make the guitar sing. What about you? You play much?”
“Yeah, but not like Harvey. Enough to provide backup and pluck out a tune when I’m writing, and I can play a bit on the piano too. But nothing spectacular, I’m nowhere near the same stratosphere as Harvey or RG. In fact, I’m hardly even needed when it comes to the music.” Rafe chuckled.
Parker took up his tea and looked at him over the rim of his teacup. “You’re just providing a pretty face then?”
