Page 29 of The Beat Match

Annie didn’t know when her attraction to Wes had begun or why, but the one-sidedness of it—her temptation, his oblivion—emphasized their power imbalance. Wes had more money. He was older, bigger, stronger. He’d had goals and a life plan since pre-school. She was her usual impulsive self.

“Why’d you stick around?” she asked, suddenly edgy.

He squinted at her, head cocked. “I told you, I wanted to hang out tonight.”

“I mean in general. After Leo, when I went into foster care—why’d you insist on staying in touch, taking care of me?” She didn’t know why she was pushing. Sitting across from him was scrambling her brain.

“Because I promised Leo I would, and because I care.” His voice lowered, intimate almost. “You have to know how much I care about you.” His blue eyes shifted to her cheek, to the small scratch from Falcon’s mask. He swallowed. His attention darted to her lips, then to a flashing Budweiser sign above the bar.

Her hackles rose. Wes fidgeted when he was lying, which meant her biggest fear was true. “I’m your charity case.”

“My what?”

“Your charity case. Your philanthropic duty. A project to make you feel like you’re bettering the world, like your mother would have wanted. I’m just…” She was nothing real to Weston Aldrich, and the sooner she remembered that, the sooner she’d quit wondering how his non-dainty hands would feel on her body. “You know what, forget it. I’m not good company. I think I’ll head home.”

She started shimmying out from her side of the booth, but Wes clamped his hand on her knee. He stared at her so long, her lungs seized. “You’re not a charity case, Annie. Don’t ever think that.”

God, the vehemence in his eyes. She tried to reply, tell him it was okay. He’d been unbelievably generous with his help over the years. She’d never expected more from him, had no clue why she wanted more now. A lot more. Those lips on hers. He had scrapbook lips, a perfect pucker you’d find on a Calvin Klein model. Broodtastic with a side of devil-may-care. Or just plain devil. She couldn’t open her mouth to speak.

His thumb moved slightly, harder pressure on the inside of her knee. “You’re the most important person in my life.”

Her insides hummed, an involuntary reaction to the contact and the intimate drop in his voice, and he was breathing harder, like there was more he wanted to do or say. Could he be attracted to her, too? Had he been as confused as her lately?

His phone rang, and the name Rosanna flashed on the screen. Oh my God. Annie had officially lost her mind. One touch from Wes and she was imagining the two of them riding off into the sunset, his stupid rabbit-squirrel on her lap. The guy was dating a notorious socialite, for heaven’s sake. The woman was stunning, with piles of shiny dark hair and flawless skin. Annie needed to get a grip. Wes would never see her as anything other than a pity sister, and Falcon had stood her up. She’d have better luck asking out the urine-smelling man at the bar.

Wes didn’t move to answer his phone. She didn’t care. She shoved his hand off her leg while shoving her Wes feelings into her internal lockbox, next to all things Leo.

“Word of advice,” she said as she stood and brushed off her jeans. “Don’t bring your girlfriend here. It smells.”

She turned and left. Not before Wes winced, like her words had stung him.

The second she made it home and slammed her apartment door shut, she got ready for bed, but she wasn’t tired. She powered up her computer and searched her various online chat groups. She needed distraction. From Wes. From thoughts of Leo. From her overtired rambling brain. Pegasus wasn’t around the Punchies scrapbook page, so she chatted with Deaf Jam in her BOOMPop forum. They messaged about music and upcoming festivals. She raved about Falcon’s DJ skills, leaving out details about his kissing skills. There was no mention about what this day meant to Annie or how things with her and Wes had veered from awkward to worrying.

Instead of feeling more relaxed, the random online chat had her feeling antsier, claustrophobic in the apartment that had always been her comfort zone. A shift in focus was needed. Something to funnel her anxiousness into action. Falcon was the answer. She’d made progress with him at his last show. He’d singled her out, brought her up on stage. And that kiss? He owed her answers for his seductions, but the man was practically a superhero, vanishing into the night.

This wouldn’t be a repeat of her Sudoku books, though. She wouldn’t walk away because things were getting harder. She’d double down her efforts. Stake out his next gig. Be ready to tail him so she could unveil her masked man.

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10

Apparently when Annie put effort into a goal, she lost sight of boundaries. She’d somehow become a stalker. Or a private eye. Or just plain creepy. She was in a dingy alley, parked in a taxi, waiting for Falcon’s show to end. This had been the first of his gigs she’d missed since Vivian had introduced her to the DJ. Annie hated being outside while clubbers could let loose and dance inside, but doubling down her efforts meant not letting the man escape.

Falcon had had a driver pick him up at his last handful of shows, so she planned to tail his car and corner him once he was out. Yell at him for the rude ditching, then beg him to teach her everything he knew.

There was no “or” about it. This was definitely stalker territory.

The cabbie texted on his phone. Her window was rolled down slightly, so she could hear the heavy bass pulsing through the club’s walls. It was nearly two a.m.

She held her breath, waited for a change in music to signal the end of Falcon’s set. He always downshifted when he finished, played a mellower dance tune and slipped out the back while his team went to work. It was quite the setup, really. Roadies to assemble and take down his equipment, a driver to pick him up. Always elusive.

He had kissed her, though. And she wanted to know why.

A siren wailed in the distance. A few “whoops” carried from the alley. She strained her ears as the tempo thumping from the club changed, then five people careened around the building and ran to the back exit.

“Get ready,” she told the cab driver. “He’ll be out soon.”

“Whatever you say, lady.”