I shot a playful smile over my shoulder. “Careful, Ian. You keep saying stuff like that and people will discover you’re just a big marshmallow under all that muscle.”
As expected, he didn’t say a word in response, but I did catch the tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth, as if he was trying to fight a grin.
We had to push through the swarm of people filling the house, and by the time we reached the door Ian had indicated, I was already itching to get the hell out of there.
“Let’s get this over with,” I said flatly. I didn’t bother knocking, just pushed the door open and started down the stairs.
I’d never been in Garrett’s private studio before, and I was immediately taken aback by the size and luxuriousness once I entered. The long couch on the back wall and two matching recliners probably cost more than what I paid in rent for a year. There was a huge soundboard to my right, across from the sitting area, that faced a glass wall overlooking an empty studio full of every musical instrument you could imagine. The walls were covered in red and black, checkered soundproofing material. My living room and bedroom could easily fit inside the space with room to spare.
I ignored the pang of jealousy that spiked in my gut andturned my attention to the people in the room. All the guys were lounging around on the furniture. Chris sat in the rolling chair at the soundboard, and I did what had become habit whenever we shared the same airspace—I greeted him with a middle finger, then pretended he didn’t exist.
And because she was never more than a few feet away from any of the band members at any given time, Kimber stood leaning against the side wall as Garrett and the rest of the guys sat back, relaxing and talked about God knew what.
The band’s lead guitarist, Mason Keller, was the next to see me, and quickly stood from his place on the couch, stumbling just slightly before righting himself. Undoubtedly he was already three sheets to the wind. Taking in the sight of his bleary, bloodshot eyes, I tried to recall a time in our very limited association that Ihadn’tseen him drunk, but I couldn’t come up with anything. I wouldn’t go so far as to call us friends, or even acquaintances, but in spite of being what I considered a functioning alcoholic, he’d always been relatively nice to me. And the drunker he was, the nicer he became.
“Hey, baby mama! Great to see you!”
Yep. He was totally blitzed out of his mind.
My arms remained at my sides as he gave me a hug. I held my breath as the stench of booze and pot smoke wafting off him assaulted my senses. “Hey, Mace. Good to see you too,” I muttered once he released me and plopped back on the couch. I got the standard chin tilt from the lead singer, Declan, and the band’s bass player, Killian Everett, and returned each. It really was a shame that I held them all guilty by association, because all three of them were completely gorgeous. Too bad they were friends with a raging hemorrhoid.
“Hello, Gwen,” Kimber sneered by way of greeting.
I turned my head and gave her a blank look. “Hi, Kimber.You’re looking well. That diet of small babies and the souls of innocents is really working for you.”
Mace covered his mouth with his hand to muffle his laughter while Killian and Declan each lowered their smiling faces to the ground.
“Thanks,” she spit back. “How’s life as a low-class, white-trash coffee slinger treating you?”
Okay, so she was in the mood to play. I could definitely get down with that. “It’s great. Thanks for asking. Oh, you know what? I’ve been meaning to tell you, I really want to commend you on making something of yourself. I mean, with a name likeKimber, it’s obvious your mom thought you’d never amount to anything more than a stripper who gave five-dollar blowjobs on the side. Kudos to you for rising above the stigma. She must be proud to know you only drop to your knees for men with money.”
She gnashed her teeth like a feral dog and took a step in my direction. I stood ready, my hands inching to rip out chunks of her hair.
“You two play nice,” Garrett said, but I could hear the laughter in his voice.
Ever obedient to one of her four masters, Kimber stopped her advance. She shot me one last murderous glare before pushing past Corrine and heading up the stairs. I gave Chris a finger wave as he followed after her like a puppy. It really was sad. I’d silently sat back over the years and observed the interaction between those two. It was obvious that Chris was totally sprung for Kimber, but she was too busy gagging for any of the band members that she couldn’t see it. Both of them were pathetic.
With the two of them gone, I turned my attention back to Garrett. His smile was surprisingly warm as those jade eyes of his scanned me from top to toe before moving back up andlocking with my own gaze. I watched with bewildered fascination as the green depths grew a hint darker after his perusal. Something strange and unsettling pricked at my skin. Normally when we saw or spoke to each other it was with the same warmth of a business transaction. Having him look at me with something closely resembling fondness set me immediately on edge.
“She’s always such a barrel of fun,” Corrine deadpanned from behind me, drawing my attention and thankfully breaking whatever weird connection I’d just experienced with Garrett.
“Come on, troublemaker.” Mace got to his feet and moved to hook his arm through Corrie’s. Let’s let Mommy and Daddy talk in private.”
She shoved at his side and curled her lip at his unwelcome touch. “I’m not—” she started to argue, but it was pointless. Mace seemed undeterred at her brush-off and placed his palm at the small of her back, forcing her into motion. Not only was he already leading her back up the stairs, but Killian and Declan were right behind them, blocking her path.
I watched as the door closed, all of a sudden acutely aware that I’d been left alone with Garrett for the first time sincethat night. I inhaled through my nose, squared my shoulders, and turned to face him, pasting on a false bravado. I wouldn’t let myself think about the fact that he looked good—reallygood—in his standard uniform of jeans and T-shirt, or the fact that his hair was hanging loose around his face and I could still remember how silky it felt that night almost four years ago. And Icertainlywouldn’t think about the fact that he looked like he’d packed even more muscle onto his massive frame. Nope. Wasn’t even going to think about it. Not even a little bit.
“So what’s up?” I internally cringed at the high-pitched sound of my voice.
“You just gonna stand there, or you want to sit down and get comfortable?”
Crossing my arms over my chest—more for protection than anything else—I scowled at his still-smiling face, silently cursing his straight teeth and gorgeous dimples. “I’d been hoping that whatever you had to say would be short enough that there’d be no need to get comfortable.”
“For fuck’s sake,” he mumbled, leaning back in the recliner and shoving a hand through his long blond hair. “Will you just fuckin’ sit down, Gwen.”
“Fine,” I grumped, dropping down onto the couch but making a point to remain on the edge so he’d know I had no intention of sticking around for long. “What’s so important that I had to find a sitter and drag my ass all the way over here?”
His eyes made a heated track along my body again, that time coming to a stop on my breasts. I peeked down and quickly dropped my arms once I noticed that crossing them under my boobs caused them to strain at the material of my sweater. My back went straight and I cleared my throat to pull his attention away from my chest.
