“Hans stopped responding for right now,which meansI don’t know where he is or what magic he’s whipping up.Which meansI do not want to drive across town to find out that he’s not home.” She paused. Patted the dash of the truly impressive Aston Martin. “Besides, this is currently my ride. You can take me home. Then you can go wherever Hans directs.”
“Fine.” Bax’s shoulders dropped. “Your place.”
“My place.”
He scratched his neck. “Where exactly is your place?”
“You don’t know where I live?” she asked, a spicy little ache nestling in the center of her chest.
Unlike Hans, who knew everything about everyone, Bax was more of an “all about himself” kind of guy.
“Never needed to know until right this moment,” he said, and the truth of those words stung.
So she relayed the address to Bax.
Brennan wasn’t coming back, and that sort of tore a little more hurt into her heart.
Chapter Two
Courtney
Her condo wasn’tanything super special, though it was in one of the nicer buildings in this part of Los Angeles. Given that she traveled with the band or visited her parents where they lived in Tennessee and hung around there, she wasn’t at her place very often. Irina lived across the hall and kept her eye on things when Courtney wasn’t around.
When she bought furniture, she’d gone with white because it was easier to match. And the carpet in the apartment was already white. And she didn’t really spill things on the regular, since she wasn’t home often. So, yeah, she’d gone with fifty shades of white.
It worked for her, because as luck would have it, there were actually around fifty (or more) shades of white.
“Huh,” Bax said upon entering her space. His not-really-a-question and not-really-a-grunt made no sense.
Whatever, this was her space, not his. The kitchen and living room were one big room with a small patio. There was no dining room, just an eat-in kitchen island with barstools. Her bedroom—the bigger of the two other rooms—was to the right, while the other room served as her office and shoe closet. She had a bit of a thing for collecting shoes.
Beside the kitchen, not the side near her bedroom, was the one and only bathroom.
This setup worked for her, since she rarely had guests, and when she… ahem… did, she didn’t mind if they hopped in the shower with her.
It’s not like she entertained like that often.
“Come on in.” She tossed her keys in the bowl beside the front door, slipped off her shoes, and left her purse on the counter. “Home sweet home.”
He paused at the wall of photos she kept. There were photos of her and Linx on the Dimefront Penny Pincher tour. One with her parents in their backyard by the tulips. Another with her and Irina—Irina decked out in doctor scrubs had just come from an audition for Emergency Blues.
“Huh,” he said again.
That was grating on her nerves. Truly. The building was really nice. Perfect for what she needed. There was even a pool because… this was California. The workout area was nice too. Though she didn’t use it often.
Ever. She didn’t use it ever.
Still, she’d been in there, and they seemed to have lots of things that people who worked out would want. Machines and those weight rack thingies, and the big exercise balls that she liked to bounce on when she was a kid.
“Help yourself to the kitchen,” Courtney said, heading to her bedroom to take off her big-ass hoop earrings and put on something made of cotton and comfy. “If you’re hungry.”
By the time she reemerged in jogger pants and a tank top, Bax was digging through her small pantry.
“What else you got?” Bax glanced up as he stuffed the cinnamon crunchy yumminess back on the shelf, next to the marshmallow puffies.
Courtney had a bit of an addiction to sugary breakfast cereal. Sue her. Actually, don’t. She didn’t really like lawyers and courthouses and… ugh.
Not that she subsisted entirely on cold cereal—she also had an entire freezer full of prepackaged lunches and dinners that only required a trip through the microwave to become delicious sustenance.
