He leaned forward, across the table, giving in to the urge to touch her. Cautious, giving her opportunity to withdraw, he linked their hands together. “How about I just drive you everywhere in my Porsche.”
She didn’t move her hand away. “Like you’ve got nothing better to do than be my chauffeur.”
He feigned being deep in thought. “Nope.”
Perhaps this could be the hobby Brek wanted him to find—chauffeur for a woman he was sweet on.
He could think of worse things—like making another hole in his drywall in an attempt at remodeling. Between Becca and Gibson and bar tending sometimes for Brek, he’d have stuff to do. Not making music, which blew, but at least he’d be busy.
The kitchen door leading to the back of the house opened. Brek stood in the doorway. He glanced between Linx and Becca. “You’re going to give me an ulcer, Cedric.”
Brek being ticked off that Linx spent time with Becca outside of bar hours was a given. Linx decided he didn’t care. He’d already tried to leave her alone at Brek’s request. He’d spent an entire week leaving her alone. It didn’t work.
He raised his cup toward Becca. “You’ll see that I’ve got company. Perhaps your lecture could wait until we’re done with breakfast?”
“Hey, Brek.” Becca waved between bites of pancakes.
“Tell me this isn’t happening.” Brek shoved his hands on his waist and shook his head. He didn’t mean it though, Linx was certain. If he knew the kinds of feelings Linx was having, he’d come around.
“Don’t worry, nothing happened.”
That was Becca, talking with her mouth full. They were past the Queen of England portion of their breakfast together, apparently.
“But have you tried his mattress? It’s amazing,” she continued.
“Guest room.” Linx slid his gaze to Brek. “She slept in the guest room. Alone.”
Becca shook her head. “Not true.” She held up a one-second finger. “Gibson slept on the pillow.”
Linx gave her a look that he hoped broadcast that he needed her to give-him-a-little-here. Help a guy out. All that. “Yes, she slept with my cat.”
“Seriously, though, have you tried his mattress?” Becca asked, deadpan serious. Let’s just say, he wouldn’t want to go against her in any kind of debate.
If he hadn’t recognized earlier that he really liked this girl, her insistence on touting the benefits of his bed warmed his heart.
“I have not.” Brek strode into the kitchen, helping himself to a cup of coffee. “I also have no plans to.”
“You should reconsider. I’ll ask Velma.” Becca’s smile was full cheerleader. “She’ll love Linx’s bed.”
“My wife is not getting anywhere near Linx’s bed.” He gave Becca a solid once over, pausing at the Dimefront shirt. Finally, he grunted and drank his coffee.
“Did you hear anything from Bax?” Linx tried for neutral, but the hope in his voice was apparent. He really wished he had a newspaper. Something he could stare at besides the wood grain on the table or his phone. He wouldn’t stare at the screen on his phone because that was plain rude. His mother taught him better than that. But a newspaper? A newspaper would’ve been excellent. He made a mental note to subscribe that afternoon.
“Or Knox?” he asked. “Or Hans?”
Linx had been working on egging Bax and Knox into a jam session via Brek and their new band manager, Hans. He figured they needed to feel the magic that he’d felt on the stage at Brek’s. Not making music wore him down.
He loved making music. Loved the stage. Hell, he loved his guitar about the same as he loved his cat.
“They haven’t gotten back to me.” Brek crossed his arms. “I’ll keep trying.”
Linx had tried, too. Hans, their full-time manager, had tried.
Knox and Bax weren’t responding.
“Becca, do you ever have to rely on others for things?” Linx asked.
“All the time,” she said. “I mean, that’s part of life.”
