He twisted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable.
“I’m sort of wishing right now that youhadslept with Bax, if it meant I didn’t have to have this conversation.” He turned onto a street that was not in the right direction to her place. “Mind if we take a quick pit stop?”
The night was still early, might as well see where things went. “Home to check in on Gibson?”
“No, he’s back to ignoring me.” He pulled up to a stoplight. The car slid to a halt on the slush. “We got invited to a party.”
She didn’t recall any invitations being sent her way. “We?”
“Well,me.” He tapped out a rhythm that sounded a lot like “Sweet Caroline” against the steering wheel. “You’re my plus one.”
Excitement bubbled in her chest. The parties a rocker like Linx got invited to would be a former groupie’s dream. Movie stars, musicians, celebrities of all kinds—she totally owed Brek a thank you for having her work the early shift.
“Where’s this party?” And did she have time to change her clothes first? Skinny jeans, a Brek’s Bar t-shirt, a parka, and sneakers were not the rock-star-plus-one attire she would ever pick for a Linx-invitation party.
“Um…” He wouldn’t meet her gaze.
They were headed toward Cherry Creek, just past downtown, where all the ritzy hotels stood. Ritzy hotels meant penthouses. Penthouses meant…who had she heard was in town recently? She sorted through the vague handle she had on the pulse of Denver's social life. She should text her friend, Marlee. Marlee knew all that went down with the upper crust of Denver.
“Linx,” she said, unable to hold the giddiness from her words. “I’m dying over here.”
He wriggled in his seat again. “Don’t judge, okay?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” That was a fib. She was totally going to judge him. And hopefully that judgement would be amazing because while she adored Dimefront, and they were her “it” band, she also totally had a thing for Blue Night.
“You know the ladies from earlier at the bar?” Linx asked.
Becca didn’t think any of those ladies had a connection to Blue Night. “The grandmothers?” she asked.
“Yeah.” He nodded, tossing a hopeful grin at her.
“Yeah,” she parroted his response. Her stomach sank.
He lifted his hand from the steering wheel for a high five. “They invited the band over.”
A high five which she left hanging. Her jaw dropped open and stuck to the floor mats. Was he seriously considering going to hang out with a group of eighty-year-old women instead of spending time showing her his mattress? Or hanging with Gibson? Or introducing her to other celebrities?
“Unless you have a better idea?” He gave himself a high five with his other hand, apparently unable to let his palm hang out in space un-hit before pulling it back. “They said they’re making cake and cookies. I like cake. I like cookies. Especially when they’re made by people who know how to do it.”
Hold the phone. “To be clear.” Becca squinted in his direction as she replayed the events of the evening. “I just got off work early. You insisted on driving me home.”
“Yes.” He bobbed his head along as she spoke.
“But you’re not driving me home.” She began talking with her hands, a habit when she attempted to make a point. “You’re taking me—” She pointed to her chest. “—to a cake party at a retirement home?”
“Yes.” He nodded.
This was definitely not celebrities and champagne. Then again, she wasn’t exactly dressed for celebrities and champagne. She was dressed to serve up drinks at a bar and have cake with the elderly.
“Will there be chocolate cake?” she asked. If there wasn’t chocolate cake, it was probably not worth going. If there was no chocolate cake, there wasdefinitelyno purpose in attending.
“I’m assuming.”
That was not a satisfying affirmative. Certain things required a full affirmative answer—chocolate cake being one of them.
“If there isn’t chocolate cake, will you take me to get it later?” she asked.
He immediately nodded. “Yes.”
