Maybe that was just the loaded looks he kept giving me.
Or the rumor I’d heard about him—and chosen to ignore.
Come to think of it… I knew very few things about Matt Brohmer for a fact. I knew Summer and Elle were superfans. I knew he was a killer bassist I’d be lucky to have in my band.
And I knew he was smoking hot.
Lean and toned.
That thick brown hair you just wanted to sink your fingers into.
And hisskin. I liked tattoos, in general. I liked them on me. But what Ireallyliked was clean, naked skin on a guy.
And those fuckingeyesof his…
If I’d ever seen a guy with bedroom eyes, Matt Brohmer was it.
Where the fuck is Summer?
I finally pulled out my phone and called her, but she didn’t answer.
Then I stumbled across Zane. He was sitting in a parlor on the second floor with his feet up, watching his wife, Maggie, playing pool with his bodyguard, Shady, across the room. Summer, wherever the fuck she was, had Van Halen rocking now, “You Really Got Me,” and Zane’s boot was tapping to the music as I approached.
“Jesus Christ, where is everybody?” I complained.
“Colonel Mustard,” Zane said, pointing at me and squinting one eye. “In the library, with the rope.”
“Nope.” I dropped into the chair next to him. “It’s Miss Scarlet. It’s always Miss Scarlet, with the lead pipe.”
“Ouch.” He grinned.
“Have you seen Summer?”
“Suuummerrrr!” he hollered out to no one in particular. “Nope. Last time I saw her she was in the ballroom with Professor Plum, though.”
I snorted. “Sounds about right.”
“Seriously, have you seen the ballrooms in this place? Who needs two ballrooms?”
“I need zero ballrooms,” I said.
He reached over to tap his fist to my shoulder. “So how’s it going, brother?”
“Great. What a fucking great show tonight.”
“Yeah. So when are you coming back on tour?”
I sighed and dropped my head back on the chair. “Don’t ask. Everyone fucking asks, and it’s killing me.”
“Because we miss you, is all.”
“Yeah. I’m working on it.” I looked him in the eye. “On that note, tell me everything you know about Matt Brohmer.”
Zane’s eyebrow rose. “Why? You want him?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “But don’t say anything to him. It’s just something Summer and I are putting together. Early stages.”
“That’s fucking great, man. You can’t have him until we’re done with him, though,” he added, with a mock stern voice.
