For the record, he didn’t sound offended.
“It’s not visiting if I bought a house. That makes it my home,” Linx said to Brek.
He bought a house in Denver? Huh.
Perhaps Becca wasn’t the only one in the midst of reconsidering life choices.
“Youboughta house in Denver?” Brek asked. “I thought it was a vacation rental.”
“It was,” Linx said with a shrug.
“The landlord was being a total dick about Gibson, so I made him an offer.” Linx did the pretzel thing again.
“Who’s Gibson?” Becca asked.
Not that she had any real reason to be part of the conversation, but Linx hadn’t asked her to leave.
“His cat,” Brek said, arms still crossed.
“He’s more than a cat.” Now Linx crossed his arms. “So what if I bought one little house so he has a place to live?”
Brek shook his head. “Whatever, man. You do you.”
“That’s my plan.” Linx slid his gaze to Becca. “Unless Becca wants to sit here and have a drink with me? Then we can see what happens.”
Linx gave her a charisma-soaked smile.
Ah. There it was, her eye canoodle. She felt that stare deep down in her soul.
Yeah. Total player.
A player who went through sex partners like they were potato chips. This was according to his bandmate, Bax, and general female knowledge when meeting a player of his magnitude.
Back when she’d followed Dimefront concerts she’d had her eye on Linx. Something about him was like a magnet, pulling her in his direction. She had wanted him. Full. Stop.
But Linx was bad news for her. He rocked a total love ‘em and leave ‘em vibe. The kind that made a girl like Becca—someone who tended to see only the good in people and, therefore, fall for the wrong men—step away. He had just the right amount of baggage for her to want to unpack. And he was exactly the type of guy to pick up those suitcases and leave town right after she committed to the unpacking.
So she kept far away from his wandering gaze, preferring to observe him in his natural rock star habitat, and not let her heart, or body, get involved.
Brek handed a bottle of Coors to Linx.
“I’ve actually…” Becca jerked her head toward her group of friends. “Got to get back.”
“That’s a drag.” Linx shrugged and gave Becca an extra-long, excessively thorough glance.
She shouldn’t have done it. But she did. Yes, she totally canoodled him back.
“Becca?” Brek’s voice cut through whatever the heck was going on between the two of them.
Brek had, of course, known Becca during her groupie days. Back then, he’d managed Dimefront and she’d been a Ten, the pet name they called their groupies. The Grateful Dead had Deadheads, Justin Bieber had his Beliebers, and Dimefront had their Tens. She’d spent a summer being Queen of the Tens.
This was not something she shared regularly. With anyone. No one else in her real life knew. Not even her best friends. That summer had been her first attempt at a life vacation. And it’d worked. Lucky for her, Brek didn’t, and she was quoting here, “Broadcast shit that wasn’t his to tell.”
She let out a long breath and turned to Brek. He glanced pointedly to the order he’d prepared.
“Thanks.” She snatched the remaining drinks and—and this was the hard part—she walked away without looking back at Linx and his neon halo.
Chapter 2
