I didn’t tell anyone.
In the light of day, I felt oddly protective of our neighborly exchange for reasons I couldn’t explain. I figured my possessive weirdness had something to do with spending my first night in my new house. Now that might sound random, but for a guy who’d lived in crappy apartments his whole life, home ownership was a big fucking deal.
Every little detail was significant…from the first half-eaten pint of ice cream I stored in my top-of-the-line Sub-Zero freezer and the Mandalorian marathon I watched on my computer to my brief hangout session with Sean. Being lead guitarist in an almost-famous band was insanely cool, but having a place of my own…something I’d earned that couldn’t be taken away from me—that was special.
The kind of special I needed to keep to myself for now. Because if I started talking and blabbed about that kiss, I might never live it down.
Christ, I still couldn’t believe that had happened. I rubbed the back of my head as though checking for physical proof I hadn’t been dreaming, wrinkling my nose in distaste at the wicked tequila concoction in my free hand. Apparently, Dec had followed a recipe Charlie had given him, and this was the end result. Yuck.
“What do you think of the cocktail?” Dec asked, bumping my elbow companionably.
“It’s disgusting,” I replied.
“You’re supposed to lie, asshole. I made that.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re a great guy, an amazing singer and guitarist, but you’re a sucky bartender.”
Dec took a sip from his red Solo cup and grimaced. “I don’t think this is my fault. There must be something wrong with Charlie’s recipe.”
“Ex-squeeze me?” Charlie sailed between us, tsking indignantly. “I think not. I taste-tested when Ky and I got here. It’s perfect. Tequila, cranberry juice, grapefruit juice, and a touch of orange liqueur. I call it disco diva tequila. Why, you ask? Because it’s got a fabulous, glitzy hue and if you have more than two, any surface will look like a dance floor.”
I snickered when Charlie turned in a circle with his arms above his head, then moved aside to give him room to shake his ass as I cast my gaze over my surroundings. It was a beautiful day.
Palm trees swayed lazily in the breeze. Heat lamps were set up around the backyard in case the February afternoon got too chilly. They probably wouldn’t be used tonight. Southern California was enjoying the kind of weather that made the rest of the country jealous…seventy degrees, blue skies, and plenty of sunshine. Perfect party weather.
Laughter drifted above the strains of a John Coltrane classic. Friends, family, and a few work associates gathered near the sleek pool or around the bar set up just outside the Spanish-style bungalow, engaged in cheerful conversation for a housewarming barbecue…rock and roll style. Sometimes, I wanted to pinch myself ’cause I seriously didn’t understand how a punk queer kid raised by a crackhead mom in a one-bedroom apartment in Bellflower ended up here.
I craned my neck to peek into the open wall of windows to the great room beyond when I thought I spotted Sean. The reflection on the glass made it difficult to be sure. Not important. Dec and T’s house wasn’t huge. No doubt we’d bump into each other at some point. Not that I cared either way. I didn’t. I frowned in confusion, shaking myself from my reverie when I heard my name.
“Dude, you’ve got to hear the lick Johnny made up yesterday. It went something like this.…” Justin cranked the neck of an imaginary guitar toward the sky, squeezing his eyes shut as he caterwauled, “Nah, nah, nah, nah…”
We hooted at Justin’s hijinks. He should have looked ridiculous, but Justin was one of those uber-confident types who didn’t embarrass easily…or ever. He was slightly taller than me with a sexy, sinewy build, a ton of tats, and twinkling, mischievous eyes. He reminded me of the kid on the playground who always had the craziest ideas and somehow managed to talk everyone into joining his shenanigans. Yeah, he was the one who’d talked me into joining Zero.
The LA indie music scene was an insular community. I’d heard about Tegan and him and the implosion of their previous band, Gypsy Coma, and in spite of his volatile reputation, I liked Justin. We’d worked together as baristas at a West Hollywood coffee shop, bonding over latte penis art on our shifts before we took the mini stage set up near the window of Aromatique to play covers for yoga moms. When he and Tegan asked me to join them on guitar, I’d known I was taking a chance. They’d needed me more than I needed them. I’d had a feeling they were a good bet. And that bet had paid off big time.
Zero was poised for greatness. No joke. We’d released two critically acclaimed albums, had a few hit songs on the charts and two successful tours under our belts. With the help of our fabulous manager, we’d formed our own record label and signed on our rival band, Jealousy. It turned out to be an inspired idea. Both bands were killing it.
We had money in the bank and songs on the charts now, and Scratch Records had built the momentum needed to sign on more talent. Best of all, our bands weren’t rivals anymore. If anything, everyone at Scratch Records felt like family. Tegan married Jealousy’s lead singer, Declan McNamara, in Vegas last summer, and their guitarist, Bobby J, was one of my best friends.
You’d think after months of touring and hanging out at the studio, we’d be sick of each other. That wasn’t the case at all. I had a feeling that music and the unlikely bonds we’d formed hanging out every day were what kept us all sane. I loved these people. They were my family.
And like I assumed most families operated, we teased and taunted relentlessly. Just for fun.
“Ouch. That riff sounds like a serious medical condition,” Bobby J deadpanned, rubbing his thick beard. He was a big bear of a man with twinkling eyes and a wicked sense of fun. “Might want to get that looked at, Johnny boy.”
“Thankfully, it didn’t sound anything like that,” I assured him. “Justin was demonstrating why we silence the mic on his guitar onstage.”
Justin flipped me off. “Hey, I’ve improved. Admit it. Gray thinks so too. Right, babe?”
“Something like that.” Gray smiled at his boyfriend indulgently, pulling him to his side when he tried to wiggle out of his grasp.
I chuckled at Justin’s playful glower. He and Gray were a cool couple. They’d been together for a few years now, and in spite of their eighteen-year age difference, they seemed to get each other. Gray was a well-connected Grammy-award-winning songwriter, but he reminded me of a football player with his bulging biceps and broad shoulders and…
No perving on friends. Or their exes, I reminded myself, stealing a glance toward the house. No sign of Sean. Phew.
I raised my empty cup as I stepped aside. “Anyone need a refill? Or a beer?”
“We’re good.” Bobby J slipped his arm over his boyfriend Cody’s shoulders. “I just hooked us up. Ask Tegan when the burgers are gonna be ready. I’m freakin’ hungry.”
Cody chuckled softly. “You’re always hungry.”
I smiled at the adoring look they shared, noticing that Justin and Gray were doing the same thing.
Ugh. I was surrounded by couples.
I shook the ice from my glass and glanced at Tegan chatting with his parents and Dec’s mom under a wide umbrella beside the barbecue. The sweet smell of grilled food reminded me I should probably eat before I grabbed another drink.
“I’ll come with you. Try the spiked kombucha instead. It’s marvelous,” Charlie exclaimed, pulling my elbow. “Peachy with a hint of lime.”
“That sounds gross.”
“It’s fabulous. Want a sip of mine?”
I smiled. “No thanks, Char.”
“Are you sure? It’s guaranteed to turn your frown upside down,” he singsonged.
“What are you talking about?”
Charlie yanked his sunglasses off and gave me a thorough once-over. My reluctant grin morphed into an actual one. Our manager had to be the most unlikely badass I’d ever met. He was five foot eight with a mop of golden curls and big bright eyes. His angelic appearance threw plenty of people off guard, but Charlie was no angel. He was a shark. No complaints here. His take-charge, never-say-never attitude had propelled two newbie bands from obscurity into the limelight.
I had nothing but respect for Charlie Rourke. However, the look in his eyes indicated he had nothing but concern for me at the moment.
“You’ve got the blues,” he said softly.
“I do?”
“Yes, you do. I can tell. You know, I’m glad you bought that house. It’s a good investment, and it’s kept you busy outside of the band.”
“Are you worried about me, or do you need something?”
“So suspicious. And perhaps a teensy bit right. I was thinking that since your remodel is almost complete, you’re about to have too much time on your hands. That can be a dangerous condition for someone who’s been on the road or in a studio for months. I don’t like the idea of you feeling mopey.”
“I’m not mopey,” I insisted. I stopped short at the sliding glass door and squinted at Charlie warily. It wasn’t like him to beat around the proverbial bush. “What are you up to?”
Charlie blinked innocently. “Nothing. I worry. It’s my job.”
“Yeah, right,” I snorted. “Spit it out, Char.”
Charlie cast an irritated sideways glance my way before pulling me into the house. A few people were parked on the sectional, watching a football game. I waved at our receptionist, Bianca, and her boyfriend, turning when Charlie blurted, “You need a new project, and I need your help.”
I widened my eyes and pointed at my chest. “Me? What do you want me to do?”
“Do you remember that holiday party at the beach? I’m pretty sure that was where you met your contractor, Wyatt Pearson.”
“Yeah…so?”
“Well, I’m thinking about doing a high-end black-and-white photo shoot to promote Scratch Records. Wyatt’s boyfriend is a photographer who works for an indie publisher that specializes in titillating coffee table books. Some of Clay’s stuff is too naughty for prime time. But he does celebrity shoots that are as sexy as can be. Want to be my point person?”
“No,” I replied quickly. “Thanks for thinking of me.”
“Wait!”
I high-fived Tegan’s sister, Maggie, and her girlfriend on my way to the kitchen. I set my empty cup on the counter and grabbed a carrot from the vegetable tray on the island, chuckling at Charlie’s irritated expression.
“Gimme a break, Char. You have assistants for that kind of shit now.”
“True, but a personal touch is better.”
I didn’t buy it. I crossed my arms over my chest and cocked my head. “What’s the point? Hiring a celebrity photographer sounds expensive.”
“Yes, it’s pricey, but Scratch Records is doing really well. You have to spend money to make money, Johnny boy,” Charlie commented. “The point is…it’ll make a great write-off. It’s early still, but I can already tell we’re set to quadruple our profits this year. We need write-offs. Someone suggested authorizing action figures, but that seems tacky.”
“Very tacky,” I agreed.
“Not to worry. I have other ideas.”
I stared unseeing out the window at the neat row of umbrellas around the pool while Charlie went on about finding innovative ways to connect with our fans. Any second now he’d snap and demand I pay attention, but it would be nice to have a beer in hand for that.
“…he’s very handsome too,” Charlie gushed.
“Who?” I held up my hand like a stop sign, then skirted the kitchen island and made a beeline to the refrigerator, pulling out a single bottle. “Never mind. I get it now. Want a beer?”
“Ew. No, thanks. Well, what do you think?”
“I think you’re trying to set me up with someone.” I fixed him with a shrewd look as I uncapped the bottle.
“Well…not necessarily. Clay might be a nice distraction…if there were sparks. If not, you can talk about his work and weigh in on whether you think this would be a fun side project for Scratch Records.”
I snorted. “Why don’t you introduce us the old-fashioned way?”
“You already met.”
“We did?”
“Yes, at that beach party a couple of months ago. You seemed to get along with him pretty well.”
“It couldn’t have been that good. I don’t remember him.”
“Well, you were a little drunk,” Charlie conceded.
“I was a lot drunk,” I corrected. “I remember meeting Wyatt, but it got fuzzy as the day went on. I gave up tequila for a whole month.”
Charlie snickered. “Glad you’re over that phase. Clay is good-looking. He’s about your height with short brown hair and dark eyes. He was wearing a sports coat with shorts. Very LA trendy. Not sure he hit the mark there, but I give him points for trying.”
“Oh, yeah. Now I remember. He was kinda hot,” I agreed in a faraway tone.
Actually, I had a foggy recollection of kissing him. Or someone I’d dubbed “the pottery dude” in my head, because Clay…makes sense, right? And why was I suddenly kissing every hot dude I bumped into?
Charlie quirked a brow. “Is that a yes?”
“It’s a maybe, but again…why me?”
“Because he has a crush on you, and that could be good for Scratch Records. Meet him and get a feel for his work. If you approve, we’ll move forward.”
I fixed him with a long, scrutinizing stare. “You’re pimpin’ me out.”
“What? I would never,” he gasped.
“Yeah, you would. I get it. You want to showcase Zero, and I’m the only single guy in the band. I’m assuming Craig knows that—”
“Clay,” Charlie corrected.
“Whatever.” I waved dismissively. “What low-profile publicity stunt do you have up your sleeve?”
“Tsk, tsk. I had no idea you were so suspicious,” he sighed. “Would it hurt to have a photo or two taken at an outdoor café?”
“Probably not, but what’s the deal? There must be something more interesting about this guy than his gayness or hotness.”
“His job.” Charlie popped a carrot into his mouth and leaned against the island. “Some of his work is downright salacious and yet oh, so tasteful. I’m not sure how he does it, but he’s very popular. A photo or two with a byline suggesting we’re interested in partnering with him would spark a ton of free publicity. I’ll send you the link to the book he released before the holidays. Sexy stuff!”
“Okay. So one meeting with wine, a.k.a. a date…discuss the book, and have a clandestine pic taken. Easy enough. What happens if sparks fly and I want to fuck him?” I asked nonchalantly.
Charlie smacked my arm and glowered. For a little guy, he looked surprisingly menacing. “That’s not allowed.”
I lifted my eyebrows innocently. “Why not?”
“Because then you’ll be one and done—and you won’t care if you never see him again. That’s no way to fan the flames of a potential relationship. You have to cultivate these things like a fine wine or a…” Charlie circled his wrist expressively. “A houseplant, for fuck’s sake.”
I almost spit my beer. I coughed and wiped at the corner of my mouth with my forearm. “So this is a one-date-only deal?”
“Not necessarily. But it’s business first and trust me, Clay is the kind of guy who gets that. He wouldn’t get flowery ideas about being in love with a rock star. We use each other for the publicity, and if something happens between you…groovy. If not, not a big deal.”
“Did you just say groovy?”
Charlie made a funny face. “I think I’ve had too much tequila. Bottom line…it’s mutually beneficial.”
“Hmm. What happens if we go out and I hate him? Will you still want to do a book with him?”
“No, but I’ll still take the photo. Maybe we’ll use it, maybe we won’t.”
“Sneaky. What happens if we get along too well? If you know what I mean.” I winked.
“Yes, I know what you mean. If you want to see him again, that’s fine. I would just need to know if it’s something more than scratching an itch. I won’t want to deal with an ex-lover situation.” Charlie inclined his head toward the opposite end of the island.
I looked up on cue and—bam! There he was.
I felt like I got hit with a grenade at close range when Sean met my gaze. He didn’t smile or acknowledge the brief collision. He chuckled at something Dec’s stepdad said, then tilted his water bottle back…while I tried to catch my breath and tear my eyes from his thick biceps.
“T and Sean are still friends,” I replied in a gravelly tone.
“Friends with exes,” Charlie hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t know how that phenomenon works myself. I ran into an ex at Starbucks last week and it was torture. Ky was paying for our drinks while I waited for the barista to work his magic. My head was buried in my phone when a blast from the past had the audacity to bump my shoulder and say, ‘Hi Charlie,’ and wink!”
“He did not wink,” I huffed in faux indignation.
“He did. And he flirted with me. As though I’d suddenly developed a wicked case of amnesia and forgotten he was a serial liar and a creep. The final straw for me was when he got drunk at a holiday party and made out with the host’s boyfriend. Mortifying. I can’t even remember his name now. I permanently deleted it.” Charlie made a hand motion like he was erasing a chalkboard.
I chuckled. “What did Ky say?”
“Ky knows he has nothing to worry about. I’m utterly and hopelessly in love,” he said with a dreamy sigh.
“I know.”
And I’d spent enough time with Ky to know he was head over heels for Char too. They’d been together for a while now. Char and Ky might look like the ultimate odd couple, but they worked. Ky was a former professional skateboarder turned bassist for Zero who oozed laid-back Cali charm. Ky’s calm demeanor offset our manager’s more excitable nature, a side benefit for the rest of us.
Charlie snapped out of his lovesick reverie and gave me a sharp look. “I doubt Clay is the guy for you, but an innocent date certainly couldn’t hurt, right?”
I shot a quick glance at Sean as he pulled a beer from the fridge, then leaned against the counter and shrugged. “I guess not.”
“That’s the spirit!” He patted my cheek like an old aunt. “I’m off to mingle. Want to join me?”
“No, thanks.”
I sipped my beer, watching Charlie slip through the small throng of guests clustered in the great room near the open wall of windows. I zoned out for a moment. Lighthearted conversation and laughter floated around me, echoing off the high ceilings and hardwood flooring. The open floor plan had nice views of the pool and the ginormous flat-screen TV above the fireplace. When my place was ready, I wanted to get a cushy leather sectional like Tegan and Dec’s and—
“Do you have the bottle opener?”
I blinked stupidly and probably blushed before the request registered.
“Uh…” I found the opener I’d used earlier on the counter and handed it over. “Here you go.”
Sean thanked me as he uncapped his beer. I expected him to move on, but he didn’t. He used the opener, then set it on the island and raised his bottle in a toast.
“How’s it goin’, neighbor?”
I smiled politely and inclined my head. “Pretty good. You?”
“I can’t complain,” Sean flashed a lopsided grin. “How was your first night in your new place?”
“Great. Except…I forgot to bring clean sheets,” I reported.
“Did you bring dirty sheets?”
“No, smartass. I had my comforter and I remembered my pillows…plural.”
“You sleep with two pillows?”
“One soft, one firm. Gotta have options.”
Sean snorted. “There must be twenty ways to make a dirty joke out of that, but I’ll refrain.”
“Such control,” I praised sarcastically.
“Comes with age.” Sean lifted his beer in a mock toast. “Did you safely deliver the color wheel?”
“Yep. Mission accomplished.”
“Good.”
Commence awkward silence.
Sean took a swig of his bottle, glancing away briefly. When he met my gaze again, my pulse skyrocketed. I didn’t get it. I mean…I wasn’t attracted to the guy.
Was I?
I studied his full lips and square jaw a beat longer than necessary, then made a halfhearted motion toward the action outside. “I should go—”
“Before you do…I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation with Charlie.”
I furrowed my brow. “You were eavesdropping?”
“Yeah, but not on purpose,” he replied with a half chuckle, pointing at the high ceiling. “Voices carry.”
“Mmhmm. And what’d you hear?”
“The bit about the indie publisher, Clay Kanzler. Word of advice…don’t get involved with him.”
Was he serious?
“Thanks, but I’m a big boy. I can handle him,” I scoffed.
“I’m sure you can. The thing is, people like Clay are easily blinded by ambition. He isn’t intrinsically evil, but he’s a shark and—”
“And you’re not?”
Sean stared at me for a long moment. I was actually impressed that I didn’t flinch. It wasn’t easy. His molten gaze cut through my bravado like a knife through soft butter, which, of course, made me crazy. I’d worked my ass off to get to a place where I made the rules. I wasn’t some stupid-ass vigilante who jumped behind random causes to stir shit up. I was smart.
Smart enough to know that stomping my feet and telling him to fuck off wasn’t the best way to deal with a high-handed bossy bastard.
“Maybe. But you can trust me,” he rasped.
“That’s what all sharks say,” I countered grumpily.
Sean’s lips twisted in wry amusement. “Touché. There are a few kinds of sharks, though.”
“Hammerheads, great whites, tiger sharks…what are you?”
“Let’s just say I’m not the type who’d take naked photos of you sleeping and post them on the Internet. For a guy who’s almost famous…I’m going to assume that isn’t a risk you’d want to take.”
I furrowed my brow so hard my forehead hurt. “Are you speaking from personal experience?”
“If you’re asking if I was ever intimate with Clay, the answer is no. I wouldn’t touch him with anyone else’s dick. But I know him. I respect his art. He’s good at what he does. He’s just not trustworthy. That’s all.” Sean gave a careless shrug. “Hey, I’d be a real asshole if I didn’t share what I know. You’re my new neighbor, my dog likes you, and since you kissed me, I’ll assume you like me too.”
“We agreed that didn’t happen,” I huffed incredulously.
Sean grinned. “I couldn’t resist. You’re cute when you get flustered.”
“I’m not cute, and I’m not flustered. Thanks for looking out for me, but—”
“You’re welcome.” Sean clicked his bottle against mine, then set it on the counter.
“I was being facetious. I appreciate the warning, but I’m a big boy.”
Sean gave me an eagle-eyed once-over. “I know you are. I didn’t mean to insult you.”
Insulted wasn’t the right word. I was irked.
My brain processed his friendly warning as authoritarian posturing. It took serious effort not to revert to my teenage rebellious side. Sixteen-year-old me would have told him to fuck himself. Mature me knew there were better ways to deal with overbearing, nosy older men. The last thing I wanted to do was show weakness or melt under pressure.
I polished off the last of my beer and pasted a smile on my face, gesturing toward the party outside. “I’m gonna grab a burger before they’re gone. See ya.”
He tugged my wrist as I stepped aside and wow, the insta-flash of heat hit caught me by surprise. It felt like I’d touched a hot stove. He dropped my hand immediately, and somehow that was worse.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been told I can be a tad overbearing.” Sean angled his head in a boyish manner…part contrite, part mischief. “But I’ve been with at least three guys I wished someone had warned me about.”
“Haven’t we all?”
I crossed my arms and leaned against the counter. I wasn’t sure what kept me there. I should have been in line at the barbecue, razzing Tegan about the size of the wieners on the grill. But I was a sucker for a sense of humor, and the unexpected spark of self-deprecating playfulness charmed me.
“Probably, but I’ve had a couple of winners. One stole a thousand bucks in cash from me, another poisoned my son’s goldfish, and—”
“Whoa. Who would poison a goldfish? And how would you know anyway? There’s no such thing as a goldfish autopsy. Is there?”
Sean grinned. “I don’t know much about fish autopsies, but the container of mouse food next to the bowl with Skittles floating at the top was a good indication.”
“Your ex fed your fish Skittles? That’s…weird.”
“No, that was the goldfish’s name. Sir Skittles.”
I bit back a reluctant smile. “Ah, genius name…and totally wasted on a goldfish.”
“I agree. I tried to talk him out of it, but Parker was seven at the time. He couldn’t be swayed with ordinary names like…”
“Goldy?” I suggested.
“Exactly.”
“So what’s the story?” I asked unthinking. “Who would commit pesca-cide on a kid’s defenseless fish?”
“A jealous asshole.”
“You spent too much time staring at the goldfish, eh?”
“Maybe. I don’t remember. That guy didn’t last long. He was a mistake I might have avoided if some kind soul had reminded me that a tight ass and a frequently used gym membership were not the measure of a good man,” Sean said with a sigh.
“Thanks, Methuselah. I’ll keep that in mind,” I snarked.
“Smartass.” He glowered playfully. “Fine, but if he—”
“Hey, drop it before you piss me off.” I reached for a carrot from the vegetable tray and crunched it noisily. “I’m starting to think I like your dog better than I like you.”
“I don’t blame you. I have that effect on people.”
I chuckled lightly. “Do you care?”
“Not at all. My days of trying to please anyone are long gone.”
I brushed my hands together as I eyed my companion. He’d taken up real estate in my head for almost twenty-four hours, and I didn’t like it. This conversation should have ended ten minutes ago. Just like the one last night. I was too curious about him to move on.
Maybe Charlie was right. I needed a diversion…or two.
“So what do you have against Clay?”
“I don’t have anything against him. He’s just not someone I’d choose to spend time with.”
“Why not? Too young? Too stupid?”
“Neither. Clay’s probably in his midthirties, and he’s smart as hell. But he’s also very…hedonistic. Yeah, that’s the word.”
I snorted incredulously. “Hedonistic. That’s quite a judgment call coming from the guy who owns a WeHo nightclub and has naked hotties answering his front door.”
He winced.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen. Hey, I’m all for scratching itches, but I don’t have the luxury of being indiscriminate in my personal life.” His forehead creased as he seemed to mull over the sentiment. “Like it or not, I have to stick to a rule book.”
“Oh, right…that’s why the naked guy got the boot last night.”
“Exactly.”
“But your kids weren’t home.”
“It doesn’t matter. Rules are rules, and I have a reputation to uphold. I’m a businessman. If I want to retain the respect of my clients and associates, I need to exercise a little discretion.”
“I see. And I suppose Clay doesn’t have to be so careful.”
Sean inclined his head. “Not at all. He’s made a career out of pushing the envelope. He’s young, attractive, confident, and out.”
“He sounds perfect for me.”
“He’s also reckless. I’ve seen him in action, surrounded by a posse of admirers. They flirt and strike poses, hoping he’ll notice them. He has a thing for twinks, too. Like you.”
I scowled. “I’m not a twink.”
“Some might think so. You’re tall and willowy…and you wear cosmetics.”
I checked my reflection in the glass cabinet behind me. My dark hair looked like a wild mop. “Barely. I only have a little guyliner on today.”
Sean raised a brow. “Looks good on you. And so do the ripped jeans, tattoos, and toned arms. See, you’ve got a bad-boy look that guys like Clay love. Beware.”
A slow grin spread across my face. “You think I’m a bad boy?”
Sean didn’t answer. He just stared at me for a long moment.
“Are you flirting with me?” he countered in a gruff tone that went straight to my dick.
Uh oh. Not good.
“No, I’m playing with you,” I bluffed, popping another carrot into my mouth as I stepped aside. “Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll keep it in mind.”
“In other words, mind your own business, Methuselah.”
I smiled at the note of self-deprecation. “I didn’t say that, but I’ll let you in on a secret about me. I’m one of those annoying guys who does the exact opposite of whatever I’m told.”
“So you’re going out with Clay,” he deadpanned.
“Maybe. If I do, I’ll tell you all about it…neighbor.”
Sean grabbed my elbow before I could move around him. “Fine, but let me give you my number.”
I frowned in confusion. “Huh? Why?”
“In case you need anything,” he replied matter-of-factly.
“While I’m on a hypothetical date that may or may not happen?”
“Or whenever.” He shrugged nonchalantly, gesturing for me to pull out my cell.
I obeyed. And when he told me to dial his number so he’d have mine too, I did. I’d probably wonder later why I folded like a house of cards, but maybe not. It seemed practical and neighborly…not flirtatious at all.
I ignored the prickle of what felt vaguely like disappointment as I slipped my phone into my pocket. “Since you’re big on rules, what are the rules for neighbors? Can I call you in the middle of the night when I decide I’m going to bake cookies for the first time in my life and realize I don’t have any ingredients?”
Sean rolled his eyes. “Sure thing.”
“Are you leaving?” I asked when he backed away from me, moving to the opposite end of the island, then turned abruptly.
If he noticed that my gaze was glued to his ass, he didn’t let on. “Yeah. I’ll see you around.”
End of conversation, right?
Time to find something to eat, shoot the shit with my friends, and maybe let Dec’s mom gush about my new place and my amazing interior designer. My only job was to relax and take it easy. No stress, no schedule, no worries bigger than wondering what I should make for dinner and whether I should let Charlie set me up on a date for the sake of publicity.
But no…I had to open my mouth. And when I did, I think I surprised both of us.
“Hey, if you still need a guitar teacher, I’m in.”