I left Piper’s place late the next morning. We had ziti for breakfast because we never did get back to it the night before. After the hot shower, we’d rolled into bed and had been unconscious within moments.

I wasn’t used to sleeping with a woman in my arms, but she wasn’t overly clingy. If anything, she and her cats tried to push me out of the bed. For someone so tiny, she sure could sprawl.

The bonus? I was rewarded with some librarian action. Give Piper an idea and she was going to run with it every fucking time. The woman could give a blowjob that sucked the damn brains from my head. Both of them. The little self-satisfied grin I got before she rolled off the mattress and headed into the kitchen stayed with me through another shower.

She was right. I had a multi-million dollar condo, but her shower was heaven itself. Add in a fun and tasty breakfast and I had an actual bounce in my step. Oh, and a huge thermos of my coffee. My girl—

The words tripped in my head. Was she my girl? Did I even want that?

She was supposed to be a distraction, and she damn well was. But it felt like more than that. The heaviness I’d expected to be in my chest was missing.

Replaced by happiness.

Clearly, this morning was full of surprises. Including the running jump that had nearly laid me out at the door. Two cats who had springs in their feet would obviously need to be owned by a woman with the same.

Then again, I couldn’t complain about the hot kiss she’d treated me to as a goodbye. And not the smashing lip kind either. She was a very apt student.

I even treated myself to an actual car service to pick me up and bring me to Ripper Records. The band had a meeting with the sound engineer to see what was left that needed to be worked on for the album.

Things were progressing nicely on all fronts.

I rolled up the sleeves of my shirt as I checked in at the security desk. Keys was on the phone and pacing in front of the window. When she spotted me, she waved me over.

“I know, Warden. Just chill out a minute. Wyatt is here.” Keys grinned up at me and rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know there have been issues at the Warning Sign shows. That’s why you’re our security guru, babe. We’re not letting anyone else have you.” She made an mmm-hmm sound. “I promise, I’ll call when we’re out for the day. I love you too.” She clicked off and shoved her phone into her vest pocket.

“Aww.”

She punched me in the arm. “Shut up. I see you making googly eyes at your phone these days too, buddy.” She angled her head and picked something off my chest then looked at it a little more closely. “Is that an animal hair? And is that shirt from yesterday?”

I smoothed out the folds of the rolled cuffs at my elbows. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Never thought I’d see the day Hudson Wyatt was less than pressed and dressed to impress.”

I looked down at my wrinkled dress shirt. True, I hadn’t been home to change into one of my dry-cleaned shirts, but I looked more put together than eighty percent of the people in a four-block radius. “I may have a thing for a crazy cat lady.”

“Callie’s friend? From the baby shower?” She nudged me. “Oh, I like her.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, well, why don’t you tell me about that cryptic phone call to your husband instead of trying to needle me for info?”

“But that’s way more fun. Quinn is just being a crazy bodyguard again.”

“That’s him all the time. Why is this one different?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I see what you’re doing and I’m not going to let this go.”

“At least let it go long enough to spill actual details.” I wasn’t ready to talk about Piper yet. I didn’t even know if we could define ourselves as a thing.

Keys gestured to the large, ornate doors that led to the hive. Ripper Records was a sprawling set of meeting rooms and studios in an almost confusing circle setup. You could cross a hall and walk into a Beatles-esque room outfitted with the latest equipment along with an honest to God egg chair from the sixties.

Down the hall would be a conference room with a massive mahogany round table which looked like it belonged in an Arthurian movie set. Evidently, being a billionaire mogul allowed Donovan Lewis to do whatever the hell he wanted.

I liked him though. He was no bullshit and he actually loved music. I knew some of my bandmates didn’t see it that way because he and Lila Crandall micromanaged to the nth degree, but I knew it was because he cared about the product as much as the artists.

It was refreshing to see after our first album. We’d practically been put in a production line and spit out like Keebler Tollhouse cookies. It had fucking sucked. But then we’d found Donovan. Or, rather, Donovan had found us. Lila had campaigned for us and we were one of her first success stories after she’d gotten the job.

Dex Munroe was our rep now. It was the only thing that pissed me off about making the new record. Lila was juggling too many things with too many new artists and we didn’t need handholding any longer. Being second tier sucked when it came to management.

Keys twisted her trio of rings on her thumb. She’d been quiet way too long. It wasn’t like her.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Quinn is a little worried. Some shit has gone down here while Warning Sign was working. Lots of extra lookie-loos with telephoto lenses and talk of possible bugs placed in the studio. Then there have been two other incidents.”

“In the studio?” I frowned down at her.

“No, outside. But Donovan contacted Quinn for some names to start beefing up security.”

“Huh. Well, I’m not surprised.”

“No?”

I shook my head. “Warning Sign has been big in the press lately, plus our own current spotlight. Along with some of our extra tagalongs who bring paparazzi of their own.”

Keys held up a hand. “Don’t get me started. I’m going to take one of those white dresses that bitch wears all the time and strangle her with it.” She tempered her voice. “For the life of me, I cannot figure out how she makes Bats come to heel. No one can do that. Does she have some sort of magic pussy?”

I choked on a sip of my coffee. “Really?”

“Come on, you know it’s a thing. She must have one because Hunter was under her spell too.”

I wasn’t so sure about that. I mean, yes, there was such a thing as being blinded by sex, but what Keys forgot to consider was the fact that Victoria was an actress. She might be a lot of things—raging cunt being my favorite name for her—but she was a good actress. She could chameleon her way into any role. So why not one to make a guy think she was the perfect woman?

But like all actresses—and I knew a good number of them—they couldn’t maintain the persona forever. Luckily, Hunter had caught on before marrying her. I just had to hope Bats would do the same. Even if it didn’t feel like a similar situation in any way. Because Reed knew just how duplicitous she was. So maybe the magic pussy theory Keys had come up with had merit.

“Huh,” I murmured.

“There was much meandering and musing in there.” Keys twirled one of her ringed fingers in my face.

“Maybe you’re right.”

Her face brightened as she walked ahead and turned the knob to the Rolling Stones studio. “Of course I’m right.”

I rolled my eyes and followed her inside. The man in question—Batty Reed himself—was swiveling back and forth in a candy-red studio chair as he flicked through screens on his phone.

Our producer was at the board playing with levels and spools of actual old school recordings. The one nice thing about Ripper Records was their attention to detail. Murdock Turner was a genius. When Zach and Hunter had gone to hunt him down to do our new album, his only stipulation was that he worked old school. He didn’t like the slick sounds that were out there now. We agreed.

While the final product would be digital, the actual work was done on retrofitted spool system that had become the cornerstone of the studio. I’d even heard other bands not on Ripper’s label were booking studio time so they could have access to the gear.

And our new shit was on there.

“Nice of you to join us,” Reed muttered.

I was in too good of a mood to get into it with him. Keys bounced over to the long couch where Hunter and Zach were sitting. I dropped onto my favorite chair in the room—a large, purple, throne-like crushed velvet chair with black ironwork. It was one of the few pieces of furniture that didn’t make me feel as if I was sitting at the kids’ table.

Owen was on one of the rolling stools with his arm draped over his bass. His thoughts appeared to be somewhere far away, most likely on his wife and soon-to-be-born baby.

What must it be like to be a part of that kind of unit? To have a real family who would be waiting for you when you got off tour and missing you while you were gone.

Murdock spun away from the board and hooked his arm over the ancient leather chair he brought with him to every studio. Lucky chair or some such shit. His jet-black hair was tied back in a stubby tail.

I knew from experience that probably wasn’t a positive sign. He only did that when he was going to tear apart a song.

“Good morning, slugs. You actually ready to do a listen through of “This Fire” today? Hope you didn’t have plans.”

I sighed. Good thing I didn’t.

Mostly.

Seven hours later, I wished for another shower. We had the first song, “Burning Bright” as a finished entity. “Firelight” came together while we were sitting around during lunch. It was the first song lyrics I’d ever had input on. Keys and Owen had been so shocked that they had scribbled down my lyrics before I could take them back.

They reshaped them about thirteen times, but I actually had writing cred on a song for the first time in my life.

“Burning Bright” was the final song on the album and we didn’t get it right until nearly eight o’clock that night. But for once, we all left the studio chatting and laughing. Including Reed.

I checked my phone and saw a message from Piper. She was visiting Callie.

“Hey, Owen. Mind if I ride with you?”

“You want a ride into baby central? You all right?”

I laughed. I hadn’t gotten a chance to visit Callie since the baby shower. “My girl…” I trailed off. Again with calling her mine. I wasn’t sure what the hell that was about. I cleared my throat. “Piper is visiting.”

“Oh, is that how it is? I thought you were steering clear of the fair barista?”

I lifted a shoulder. “Not quite sure how it happened, but there it is.”

“Don’t question it. These things happen if they’re supposed to. I am a huge believer in fate.”

“Yeah, well, it worked out for you, didn’t it?” Owen had everything. Especially someone special to love who loved him back.

Me, on the other hand? Not so much. But perhaps my fortunes were changing.

“Maybe you were exactly where you were supposed to be at the time. A cat cafe in the middle of West Hollywood isn’t exactly your typical milieu, now is it?”

“No, definitely not.”

“Ride it out. At least have fun. You need more fun.”

“Thanks. I think.”

Owen laughed. “Love is catching in this band, yeah?”

I didn’t want to go that far—just quite yet—but I did want to see Piper. Might be a good plan if I didn’t smell as if I’d been in the recording cave for most of the day. “Mind if we swing by my place?” I asked.

“Only if you don’t tell Cal I’m picking up a burger from In and Out.”

“Why?”

Owen turned into the drive-thru. “It’s on the nauseous list this week. In fact, I’ll probably need to borrow one of your toothbrushes.”

“That bad?”

“Yes. So very much.”

I laughed. “Then I guess we will both feast and brush our teeth.”

“Good plan, mate.”