Tunes

by KC Enders

  “Oh, sir, please. That’s not at all necessary. I don’t want to impose, not in the least. In fact, it would be very helpful to have fewer interruptions during the time that I am here. I don’t mind long hours, but they are much more productive if they are distraction-free.”

  Mr. Langston looks skeptical, but I hope I can sway him to my side on this.

  “I promise not to work through dinner. Will that make you feel better?”

  He pauses, fingers hovering above the intercom on the phone. “It would make me feel better. Though I’m sure Brooks would be happy to take you out. Did you enjoy the live music last night?”

  “It was wonderful.” Technically, that part’s not a lie; the music was amazing. Sparing no positive detail, I share the events of the previous evening—the music, the atmosphere, the unbelievable dessert. I just pass right over the not-so-great stuff. I’m not really out to get Brooks in trouble with his daddy. I just want him to leave me alone. “Sir, I promise to bring in lunch and leave by seven each night. I want to get this initial step done as much as you do, and that uninterrupted time will really go a long way. I have a few things stashed in the fridge at my firm’s apartment for dinner, so I’ll be fine.” Fingers and knees crossed, I stop just short of crossing my eyes for luck when my comment to Gavin earlier about this job making my eyes cross pops into my head. I thought he was going to devour me right there on the sidewalk outside the building.

  “All right then.” Mr. Langston puts down the phone and stands, his chair gliding out behind him at the movement. “Let’s go lay down the law that you’re not to be disturbed and that your conference room is off-limits for the remainder of the week.”

  The dapper gentleman sweeps me out of his office, and I head straight to my temporary space. Brooks, of course, pops out of his office with his lips pressed in a thin line, his gaze bouncing back and forth between his father and me.

  Before I enter my new sanctuary, I thrust my hand out, giving Mr. Langston a warm handshake, a sincere smile stretched across my features. “Thank you so much for taking the time to listen, sir. I appreciate your understanding and support.” Straightening my spine, I step out of the hallway and let the door fall closed behind me.

  But, before it completely shuts, I hear Mr. Langston say, “I heard all about your evening last night. And I’m going to need you to keep your distance from Miss George for the remainder of her time here.”

  Smiling to myself, I settle in and pop my earbuds firmly in place. The music motivates me, pushes me. That, combined with no one popping in to chat or check on me, allows me to sift through far more information than I thought I would, and I get in a serious groove of kicking this project’s ass.

  I do have to shift my position at the table to better ignore the pouty-faced man-child who has walked past the glass-enclosed room more times than is in any way necessary.

  I work straight through lunch, snacking on an apple and some almonds that I grabbed at a bodega on the way in, taking only a handful of breaks to get up and move … run to the restroom and refill my stainless steel water bottle.

  By the time seven o’clock hits, I know without an ounce of doubt that I can get this mess organized with some preliminary comparative reports available by the end of the week.

  The other truth I hold dear is that Brooks is a hot mess of barely contained nerves. He looked like he could explode at any given moment when he finally left the office at his father’s insistence. A quiet hum has replaced the frantic pace of earlier in the day. Only a handful of people occupy the cubicles, softly lit by the glow of their computers against the darkness beyond the glass windows.

  Not wanting to deal with public transportation, I order a cab as I ride the elevator down to the lobby. My heels click and echo off the walls of the empty lobby as I stride through the space, searching the line of cars along the sidewalk.

  My heart skips at the sight of long denim-clad legs casually crossed at the ankles, ass leaning against a bright yellow cab, gray beanie pulled down low, covering a mass of golden curls, the bulk of which are tucked safely away in the collar of Gavin’s black leather jacket.

  He stands and opens the door of the taxi for me. I duck under his arm and slide across the seat, making room for him.

  “How long have you been out here, waiting for me?” I ask, warmth spreading through me as he folds himself in beside me.

  “Not long. Ten … maybe fifteen minutes?” He adorably bites his lower lip, his words coming out as a question. “I just couldn’t wait. I want to spend as much time with you as I can before I have to go.”

  Chapter 25

  Gavin

  My ass is freezing. I’ve been out in front of Gracyn’s building for the past half hour.

  Part of me was afraid she wouldn’t come back to the hotel. To my hotel even though her clothes, all her stuff, are there. I didn’t want to gamble with losing her on a whim. It’s like she’s a flight risk.

  The minute the little hand hit seven, I grabbed one of the taxis at the curb and posted up against it to wait, looking casual as fuck.

  “Take us to Valhalla, man. Hell’s Kitchen, Fifty-Fourth and Ninth,” I tell the driver before turning to Gracyn. “Bar food and beer okay with you?”

  God have mercy, she is fucking gorgeous. That purple scarf looped around her neck, caressing the skin I want to lick and suck on, wrap my palm around again, feeling the rush of her desire.

  Focus on something other than that face she makes when she …

  “Sounds perfect,” she says, reaching for my hand.

  My freezing-cold hand that will totally give away the fact that I was out there, waiting a hell of a lot longer than I told her.

  “Maybe some whiskey to warm you up. You’re a lot colder than you should be. How’d your meetings go?” Gracyn asks.

  Her warm hands clasp my frigid one in her lap, softly rubbing it back and forth. With my time in New York coming to a much quicker conclusion than I planned, the last thing I want to talk about is leaving. I want us on the same page this time. I need it.

  “Good. We, uh … we have studio time lined up soon in LA. And the last of the songs is about ready to go. It’s different from what the guys are used to from me, but they played with it a little today, and I think they’re good. It’s gonna be good when they each get to put their spin on it.”

  She slides her eyes at me as the cab lurches forward, trying to make it through the intersection. “So … what you’re saying is, it’s good. Like good, good or just good?”

  Fucking smart-ass.

  I guess I might have overused the word.

  “It’s going to be fucking spectacular. European market is going to lose their goddamn minds over it. Is that better?”

  She blows a warm breath into the tangle of our hands, resting her pillowy lips on the rough skin of my fingers. “That sounds a whole lot better than good.”

  I feel the words as much as hear them—and not just where her lips brush across my skin. Heat blooms in my chest and flows through me, settling low in my gut.

  Two days. I only have two days left with her before my schedule goes to shit for months. The similarities of where we are now and where we were in Destin is not lost on me.

  I toss some bills at the driver as he screeches to a halt across from the sports bar. “Thanks, man.” The rush of cold air sweeps into the car as I open the door and pull the strap of Gracyn’s messenger bag across my chest. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I shoulder through the people trying to get into the cab before we’re even truly free of it.

  Inside the bar, I slide my hand from Gracyn’s waist to her hand, holding on like my life depends on it, and guide her over to the corner of the bar. Two seats backing up to the plate glass window are open, allowing us to huddle in the corner. It doesn’t get any more perfect than this.

  Going out publicly can get dicey, but this should be as mellow as it can get. Small neighborhood pub. Tucked in the corner and having a couple of beers with a beautiful woma
n.

  Hell, maybe she’ll take the attention off me.

  We order a couple of amber IPAs and some burgers and wings before Gracyn turns in her seat. She wiggles out of her jacket, settling it on the back of the stool, and then props her elbow on the bar, taking me in.

  Shedding the armor of my jacket, I take a quick glance around the place and hunch forward. Arms resting on the bar, hands clasped loosely. All looks good, still.

  “Where are you, Gavin? Where’d you just disappear to?” Gracyn wraps a hand around her pint glass and lifts it to her lips. A bit of foam rests on her lip for only the briefest moment before her tongue darts out to clear it away.

  “I’m here … just trying to blend and not be noticed.” I shrug and pull my beanie lower on my head, trying to tuck my hair away.

  “That’s so weird.” She laughs. “Does that happen a lot? I mean, I saw the madness outside the hotel last night, but when did that stuff start happening?”

  Our wings are set down in front of us, the tang of spicy buffalo sauce swirling in the air. Gracyn subtly pulls her hair over her shoulder and quickly twists it into a loose braid before grabbing a stack of napkins with one hand and a big, saucy wing with the other.

  “Yeah, it happens more often than you’d think. Definitely depends though,” I tell her as I dunk a carrot stick in the house-made blue cheese dip. “A place like this, we should be okay, but around hotels, clubs … or, Jesus, if all of us go out together? Shit can go sideways in a hot minute. And that loses its appeal really fucking quick, especially when your shirt gets ripped off, your ass gets fondled, or, Christ, I’ve had my fucking dick grabbed,” I grumble.

  The stripped chicken wing hits the bone bowl, and she slaps a napkin over her mouth, laughing. “Oh my God, you’re kidding me.” Her words are muffled by the napkin, her eyes wide.

  Chuckling, I shake my head. “Nope. The dick grab is their favorite. Like that’s at all okay.”

  She is full-on belly laughing at me now, and a couple of heads have turned in our direction.

  “Tone it down, G,” I mumble. “I want my burger before we have to hoof it out of here.”

  Smile still firmly in place, she looks around the room and notes the lingering stares. People doing that glare where they try to figure out if one of us is someone they should know. Or maybe they’re just mesmerized by the beautiful woman with the obnoxious laugh, sitting next to me. I drain my beer and nod at the bartender for a couple more. With as hot as the wings are, Gracyn will need a fresh one in no time.

  “People actually do that?” She reaches for her glass as the heat of the spice hits her.

  “God, yes. They have no boundaries.”

  The bartender comes back with our burgers and dumps the growing pile of chicken bones from our devouring.

  “And they really do think I’ll bone anything with tits and a short skirt.” Juice runs down my chin as I bite into my burger.

  “Don’t even tell me you were a saint on tour.” Gracyn hands me a napkin and pops a fry in her mouth.

  Well, isn’t this uncomfortable territory?

  “Not a saint. But it’s not like I turned into Kane or anything either. I swear, he’s the reason we have groupies following us around.”

  My shoulder stings from a sharp slap. Gracyn’s hand rests on the spot, and she’s looking at me, shock painted across her face.

  “You have groupies. Gav, you’ve made it. You’re the shit now, baby.”

  Make that fake shock.

  “I pick you up from work and buy you dinner, and this is how you thank me? By beating me and mocking my success?” It’s hard, holding back my smile.

  She rubs my shoulder and across my back until her fingers are tangled in the hair not tucked up in my beanie. Grabbing a handful, Gracyn turns me, so our faces are inches apart.

  “I think you get off on a little pain now.” Her eyes dip down to the front of my shirt, the outline of my piercings visible beneath my tee.

  “Mmm …”

  The low hum brings her gaze back up to mine, and I reach out for the scarf still wrapped around her delicate neck.

  “I think we’ve both changed”—I lean in and brush my lips across hers—“in the things that get us off.”

  She gasps, and I trap her bottom lip between my teeth, biting down and then soothing it with my tongue before sitting back in my barstool.

  It doesn’t take long for Gracyn to recover and take my breath away.

  “Maybe I should get a matching set.”

  And, at that thought, my dick goes all Grinch at Christmas, growing and swelling and shit.

  Chapter 26

  Gracyn

  I try to lose myself in the tedium of data entry to keep my mind off last night with Gavin. All of it. The idea of groupies throwing themselves at him, the discussion on piercings, and the way his eyes rolled back in his head as I tugged at the metal bar through his nipple with my teeth when we got back to his hotel.

  And the way he makes my heart skip and dance in my chest.

  As grateful as I am for stumbling into him, I’m well aware that this has the potential of being spring break all over again. We’re on a short schedule with this, and I’m desperately afraid of the end. Just because I have no plans to run away again doesn’t mean that this is going anywhere.

  He’s got responsibilities, plans that are not here. Recording in LA and then touring in Europe.

  Lord, things have changed.

  A notification pops up in the lower-right corner of my computer, and like she can feel my thoughts, Lis hits up the group message we have with my roommate, Kate.

  Lis: When are you getting back, G?

  * * *

  Me: Saturday.

  * * *

  Kate: Thought you were done Friday. Numbers suck.

  * * *

  Me: Not staying for numbers.

  * * *

  Lis: What’s up? You okay?

  * * *

  Kate: You found someone to cleanse the love bunker?

  * * *

  Me: OMG. Really, K? Nope. Not staying there … anymore.

  * * *

  Lis: ???

  * * *

  Kate: ’Splain, Gracie!!!

  * * *

  Me: Shit, don’t call me that. Drinks on Saturday? McB’s at 7?

  Lis answers with a heart emoji, and Kate, of course, takes it to the next level with an eggplant and a thumbs-up.

  I switch my computer to Airplane mode to stay focused, and I plow through another full file before leaning back in my chair, the bones between my shoulders popping and cracking. It’s well after noon, so I push back my chair and head for the small kitchenette to refill my water bottle and see if anything good magically appeared in the vending machine.

  Gavin was outrageously selfish with my time this morning, so I didn’t have time to run into the bodega for any snacks today. Not that I’m about to complain …

  And there go my thoughts, right back to the way he moves, the things he does, and the way he makes me feel.

  The rattle of my quarters tumbling down through the mechanism echoes through the empty room. Kit Kat, Twizzlers, and a package of pretzels should get me through the rest of the afternoon without hitting the hangry wall. With my loot in hand, I turn to fill my bottle from the water cooler and walk right into Brooks, dropping everything to the floor.

  “Sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.” I squat down to pick up the bags of sustenance, letting the extra quarters roll away from the scene of the crime.

  Surely, my pretzels aren’t completely crushed.

  Brooks is still way too close when I stand, causing me to take a half-step back, my ass meeting the edge of the table taking up the small bit of space. A condescending sneer mars his face as he plucks the Kit Kat from my hand. “Nice. No wonder the curve of your ass is so obvious in your skirt. Your attire is less than professional as it is.” He tosses the package to the table behind me. “Maybe you should skip that and opt for a salad. I’d be happy
to take you out for something less … caloric.”

  Is he kidding me right now?

  “Thanks. I’m going to have to pass,” is thankfully what I say out loud because, on the inside, I’m seething and calling him a dick a hundred times over.

  I move to the side in order to get past him, but he crowds me again.

  “Your lowlife boy toy likes the extra cushion on you? Must be a class preference,” he jeers, entertaining himself with his arrogance. “I’m sure he and your father could have some scintillating conversations over a fine glass of Lagavulin.”

  Grinding my molars together, I wait for Brooks to let me pass.

  He’s so close and yet he couldn’t be further from the truth. If my father could get over himself for a quick minute, Gavin would be exactly the type of conversationalist he’d spend hours debating with. But being the asshole he is, my dad wouldn’t give him the time of day.

  Not deterred by my lack of response, Brooks just keeps running his judgmental mouth as I shove my apparently abundant hip into the table to squeeze by to escape his shit. Naturally, I grab my candy as I go and head straight to the restroom.

  The door swings shut, lulling me into a false sense of security. After doing what needs to be done, I wash my hands and turn the taps as cold as they will go. I lean into the mirror to check for any stray blemishes or overly large pores or whatever. Instead, the reflection of the door opening and Brooks sliding into the ladies’ room grabs my attention, snapping me up straight.