Chase stewed about the situation throughout the weekend and into the following week. It wasn’t as if he had a ton of other things on his plate at the moment, other than going to the occasional AA meeting. Once in a while—not often enough lately—he even went inside rather than returning to his truck. He hadn’t found the right group in the city yet, that was all. Then there were the oh-so-thrilling doctors’ visits and PT and lots of hours spent doing research on his condition online. He didn’t want to have surgery, but more and more it looked like he’d have no choice.

There were no guarantees. Yes, the Tommy John operation could fix him up and get him back on the field, assuming some team would be willing to take him on after months of rehabilitation. His already damaged reputation didn’t make him a prime candidate in many teams’ eyes, and despite how en vogue the Tommy John surgery was in some circles nowadays, the fact was he’d be different afterward. Better, probably? Yes. But the surgery could also leave him unable to ever pitch again. The odds of that were extremely low, but it could happen. It had happened to a guy he knew. And then what? He’d live off his money for a while, abstaining from everything that made life fun until he finally keeled over from sheer boredom?

Hell no. He needed to do something else while he considered his options. Which led him right back to Summer.

She needed a bodyguard. He had the muscle and the street smarts to protect her. He’d been circling around the idea of an agency for long enough that he knew he couldn’t do it on his own. At first, sure. But he didn’t have a head for numbers and he wasn’t some admin-type. He needed a partner, someone who could take on clients with him and might even know something about running a business.

Someone like Jax Wilder.

He hadn’t seen Jax in years. They’d run into each other at the occasional press junket but never spoke. In the early days after they’d both been drafted, Chase had gone out of his way to avoid his former best friend. Jealousy was a bitter brew—though back then, he’d refused to see his hot, relentless fury towards Jax as envy—and it had taken him a long time to put down the bottle. Now that he was out of the MLB himself, maybe for good, he’d decided to stop dredging up the past.

Plus he needed the guy, though he’d never tell Jax that.

Chase sat back in his booth at Slocum’s Diner and stared at the mustard-splattered menu in front of him. His stomach growled, sick of waiting for him to make up his mind. He’d been thinking way too much lately and it was starting to piss him off. He wanted a drink. He wanted a woman underneath him. Or over, he wasn’t fussy.

God, he wanted his old life back.

The bell over the door chimed and he jerked up his head, tearing his gaze from the meatloaf special to lock eyes with his former nemesis. Jax had also been the closest friend he’d ever had. Would ever have.

Jax strode over to the booth and tugged off his scarf, tossing it on the cracked red pleather seat. Then he did the same with his bomber jacket before extending his fist to Chase for a knuckle bump. He didn’t speak, but his terse expression said it all. Despite Chase having been the one to call him, Jax expected his old buddy to shut him down.

Not happening. Not this time.

Chase rose halfway out of the seat, fist extended, only to be hauled into a bear hug that nearly launched him over the table. They were evenly matched in height and weight, but Jax had taken Chase completely off-guard. He couldn’t help laughing as he thumped his old friend on the back. “Hey, man,” Chase said, his throat surprisingly tight.

“Dude, it’s so good to see you. Here, of all places.” Jax stepped back and gestured. Black tattoos covered his knuckles on his right hand. His fingers looked like a slot machine that didn’t have a hope of coming up with a matching row. “Same ol’ booths. Same ol’ pictures on the walls.” Both men glanced around at the ancient framed pictures of Elvis and Jack Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr. that covered the yellowed daisy wallpaper. “It’s like a damn blast from the past.”

Chase couldn’t help grinning. “Still have the same meatloaf too.”

Jax’s hazel eyes gleamed while he fingered Chase’s menu. “No shit? Does it still have a whole can’s worth of sauce?”

“Don’t know about that part.” Chase would’ve said more but their waitress took that moment to appear, her smile firmly in place to greet Jax.

“Why, hello there. Welcome to Slocum’s.” She thrust a menu at Jax before he had a chance to sit and rattled off the day’s specials, ending with the meatloaf.

“I’ll take a Coke and a meatloaf, please,” Jax said, returning the menu with a wink as he dropped into the booth. “And I like it extra saucy, so don’t skimp, okay, darlin’?”

She tucked her pencil behind her ear. “I never get any complaints.” With a wink of her own, she turned to Chase. “And you? What’ll it be?”

“Meatloaf for me too.” And a clue how to flirt so effortlessly, though he wouldn’t get that information from the waitress. It hadn’t been that long ago that he’d been able to charm the panties out from under a woman’s skirt before she had a chance to unzip. Now everything felt stilted and unnatural. Guess he’d lost his taste for the game in a lot of ways. “And a lemonade, if you would.”

“Sure thing, sugar.” She sashayed off.

“Lemonade? Guess the rumors are true then.”

Chase glanced at Jax and unrolled his silverware to give himself something to do. “What rumors are those?”

“That you’re dry as dust. Good for you, man. I never believed you were in trouble like they said, but still, it’s not a bad thing, considering—” Jax cleared his throat, apparently catching himself. “Your family history and all.”

Sometimes it was great to reconnect with those who’d known you since you were a boy. And sometimes, it was a fucking pisser. “Yeah, well, my dad’s doing better too.” He toasted Jax with the lemonade the waitress set in front of him. “Cheers.”

Once the waitress had dropped off Jax’s drink and left the table, Jax leaned forward. His brows scrunched tight over eyes way too earnest to have seen and done all that Chase knew he had. Somehow Jax always managed to play the angel role while having the soul of a devil. “Let’s lay it all on the line. I know you’re a free agent now. You want me to use my connections, see if I can get you the inside scoop on where your best bet is?”

Chase only gaped, but Jax wasn’t finished yet. Use his connections? What the hell? He had an agent for that. Talk about an overinflated ego. “Thing is, I’d love to help you if I could. But I can’t.” Jax tore the wrapper off his straw. “I’m out of the game too.”

“You really think a lot of yourself, don’t you? How stupid of me to believe I could possibly get back into ball without you and your fancy ass friends pulling stri—” Chase broke off. “What? What do you mean you’re out of the game?”

The news wasn’t totally out of left field. He’d heard rumblings about Jax stepping away while he was still on top, something that was virtually unheard of in the major league. That was one of the reasons he’d approached him about the bodyguard agency. But he’d figured Jax walking away for good was a year away, maybe more. Until then, he’d planned on going solo with the agency if he didn’t get back into ball himself, and that was still a strong option.

Moderately strong.

Jax shrugged and drained half his soda. “It’s not the same anymore, man. I’ve been quietly working my way toward this for years. Last season was my final one.” He jerked a shoulder. “I got into ball because it was fun. It hasn’t been that for a long time. I had to get out.”

Chase rubbed a line of condensation off his lemonade. They kept the diner hotter than a sweat lodge, so it wasn’t too surprising. “That’s what it’s all about for you? Fun?”

“Not entirely, no, but if I’m going to enjoy it as much as digging a ditch, then why shouldn’t I go dig that ditch? Yeah, the perks are better. The money, the lifestyle.” Jax rotated his bulky brown watch around his wrist. Nothing flashy for him. From what Chase had heard and seen, Jax’s particular charm with the all-too-willing females was his low-maintenance, “aw, shucks” attitude, though he’d grown up as a Yankee. “The attention.”

“The pussy,” Chase said flatly, unsurprised that Jax merely shrugged again.

“Not sure that’s true. I guess I’m not into that as much as I once was, you know?”

Chase cocked a brow. “You switching teams?”

“Nah. I just want…” Jax blew out a breath, shook his head. “Something more.” Before Chase could begin dismantling that ridiculous idea, Jax’s gaze sharpened on his face. “So, how’s your sister?”

Chase leaned back and linked his fingers over his stomach. He didn’t much appreciate the segue in conversational topics, not when he wondered why Jax had picked that particular moment to mention Cass. “She’s fine. Busy.”

“Drove by Triple Scoop on my way here. Almost stopped in to say hello, then thought better of it.”

“Why? You and Cass were always friends.”

“Like we were?”

Chase said nothing, waiting while Jax scraped a hand over his head, barely ruffling the short dark hair cropped close to his skull. “Last time I was home, some stuff went down between her and me.”

Chase kicked out his feet, narrowly missing Jax’s legs. “Such as?”

“Nothing major.” Jax adjusted his watch, fiddled with his fork and generally avoided Chase’s narrowed gaze. “We got into it a bit, like you guys used to get into it.”

Considering Jax had never spoken a cross word to Cass in Chase’s presence, he had trouble believing that. Something was up. “Somehow I doubt it. What happened?”

“Seriously, it’s no big deal. You know how women get overly emotional about stuff.”

“Stuff like what? Cass would have zero reason to be overly emotional over a guy she hasn’t seen in forever. Tell me what went down. Now.” And if Jax veered in the direction Chase didn’t want to consider, he’d rescind his job offer before he’d even made it.

His baby sister didn’t need Jax Wilder-sized problems in her life. He wasn’t the worst the MLB had to offer, far from it, but the bottom line was that Jax wasn’t known for sticking with one woman much longer than Chase himself. Speeches about saving-the-pussies aside.

Cass couldn’t just jump into relationships. She had to be more careful than that. And if Jax had anything to do with why Cass had seemed quieter than usual the last few months, he’d use his ex-best friend’s nuts for earwarmers.

Screw the bodyguard thing. Screw trying to make amends with his past. His sister’s wellbeing trumped everything.

“Thanks for the reminder that I haven’t been part of her life in forever.” Jax gave him a thin-lipped smile. “I forgot for a minute there.”

“Look, man—”

The waitress reappeared with their meatloaf. They must’ve kept it on standby. Since his stomach was roaring now, not growling, he didn’t much care. Throw some sauce on it and he’d be good to go.

“Here you boys go. Gotta make sure you stay nice and strong.” She pinched Jax’s biceps and grinned at his wink. The guy was going to develop a twitch, if he hadn’t already.

The minute she’d gone, Chase seized the pepper and started a brutal assault on his slab of meatloaf. He wasn’t going to let one brief flare of well-deserved guilt distract him from his interrogation. “I asked you a question,” he said, voice low. “What exactly went on between you and my sister? And when?”

“Damn, you’re suspicious enough to be a cop. Ever consider that line of work? Think you’d be a natural.” Jax cut into his own meatloaf, sampled. Apparently declaring it more friend than foe, he continued to eat at a rate of speed that would impress a linebacker. “It’s not what you’re thinking. I didn’t sleep with your sister, man. We go way back. For fuck’s sake, she blackened my eye when we were kids.”

Chase had to laugh. “You’re the dumbass who dared her to punch you in the face on the count of three.”

“Yeah, well, I thought she’d hesitate. Not so much.” Jax shook his head, smiling. No, not smiling. Full-on grinning like it was Christmas or something.

Chase’s amusement dimmed. It was a good memory, even a great one. But something smelled off at their table, and it wasn’t the insta-ready meatloaf with chunky sauce. “So then what? What happened with you and her?”

Jax finished off his soda, then leaned back and threw an elbow over the back of the booth. It barely accommodated the two of them, especially considering the volume of food they were inhaling. “Last summer, my mama got sick.”

“Yeah, I heard.”

He’d meant to come back and see Mrs. Wilder, a woman who’d been closer to him than his own ma growing up. But he’d balked, grateful for the routine of ball and babes that gave him an excuse. It wasn’t easy crossing back over a threshold you’d walked over willingly, sure you’d never want—or need—to come back. At the root of it, he’d been ashamed. And maybe even a little afraid. He didn’t want to unintentionally bring up the past and make things worse for her.

Or himself.

She’d tried to talk to Chase after he and Jax had fallen out, but Chase hadn’t wanted to listen. Still didn’t, truth be told. He’d loved being a part of the Wilder family and missed her something fierce. That didn’t mean he wanted to meander down memory lane and tumble into the potholes.

Coward.

“She’s better now?” he asked when Jax fell silent. He already knew the answer. He’d kept tabs on Jax’s mom from afar. The quadruple bypass had done its job, though things had been touch and go for a while. She was okay. One of these days—sooner rather than later—he’d go see that for himself.

“Yeah. She is. Thank God.” Jax’s smile flared to life for an instant before disappearing again. “But anyway, I was home a lot last summer and I stopped by the ice cream place. I didn’t even remember it was hers at first. Then she came out of the back and I did a fucking double take. She grew up nice, huh?” Before Chase could fumble out a reply, Jax continued. “She came right over to me and acted happy to see me. At first I thought it was just her being polite to a customer. We got talking and I knew it wasn’t. No matter what happened with you and me, she was still Cass.”

The back of Chase’s neck burned. With regret or shame, he didn’t know. To shake off the feeling, he dug into his meatloaf and put a serious dent in it before he spoke again. “She was always the best of us.”

“Hell yeah. No argument there.”

“So then what? You had a great reunion. What happened after that?”

Jax’s mouth curled into a scowl. “You know about Russ?”

“Russ who?” Chase leaned over the table. “Not Russ Jackson. What does he have to do with my sister?” Nice to realize Jax knew more about what was going on with his own family than he did. So much for burying his head under the pitcher’s mound. By the time he’d pulled it out of his own ass enough to look around, everything had changed.

His hometown. Summer. Hell, even him.

“You don’t know?”

“Would I be asking you if I knew?”

“True enough. Guess they’d been seeing each other. Which I discovered when she started gushing about him.” Jax pinched his nose. “I burst her little happy bubble by telling her I’d seen him kissing some chick at a restaurant the night before, and she damn near punched me in the eye again. Then she shut down and refused to talk to me.” He jerked a shoulder. “At least she broke up with the egotistical fuck.”

“Hockey players,” Chase muttered, earning Jax’s grunt of assent.

“So now both Dixon siblings hate me.” Jax forked up mashed potatoes. “It’s a talent I have, I tell you.”

“If I hated you, would I have asked you to meet me?”

“Hard to say. You always were a contrary bastard.”

Only Jax’s smile kept Chase from tossing back something equally obnoxious. But that wasn’t what he was here for, and truth be told, he owed the guy. Big time. If he was looking out for Cass—especially when Chase hadn’t been around to do so—that made up for a lot of negative history. “That may be so, but I have a business proposition for you.”

Jax slung his arm back over the booth again, but Chase could tell the pose was for show more than from true relaxation. “You didn’t know I was getting out of ball now, yet you’re here with business ideas for me. Or does it have to do with the game? If so, I’ll have to decline. I already have a career opportunity to pursue—”

“I want to start a security agency,” Chase interrupted. He loved the dude—had once loved him—but Jax could out-talk any female. He’d gotten Chase in trouble for whispering during class all through school, and he’d probably happily resume old habits if Chase let him. There would be no getting in trouble now. His brain would just ooze out of his ear. “I’m thinking about what’s next for me and realistically, I can’t keep playing forever.” Maybe not even next year. “So I want you to come in with me, help me set it up.”

Jax dropped his fork to stare at him. “Come again? You want to be partners? With me?”

“I didn’t exactly say partners—”

“Then I can exactly say no, end of story. You want to talk turkey, come to the negotiation with more than a damn drumstick.” His frown lifted magically as their waitress came over to the table. “Hey, darlin’, think you can get me some of that apple pie you have on special? I’d appreciate it.”

“Sure thing.” She glanced at Chase. “You too, sugar?”

Pie and old times. When in Yardley… Chase shrugged. “Sure. Why not? Make it peach for me though, please.”

“Such manners you two have.” She pinched Jax’s cheek and earned herself a grin with dimples. Chase rolled his eyes and wished he’d ordered a beer. “Be right back. Finish up that meatloaf so you don’t insult the cook,” she said before leaving the table.

“Cook.” Chase snorted and went back to his mashed potatoes. They weren’t half bad. They had rosemary and thyme in them, like any decent restaurant. His pissy mood was unfairly coloring hapless spuds now.

“So back to business. Bodyguard agency, hmm? How’d you get there?”

“Been thinking about it for a while. And I have a client already.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s that?”

“Sunny Z.” Chase’s lips twisted. “You remember Summer Maitland? Cass’s friend?”

“Sure. Little thing. Big personality. Real flirty and fun. Nice tits.” At Chase’s narrowed eyed glance, Jax sighed and raised his gaze to the ceiling in an apparent bid for celestial help. “Now what? I get why you don’t want me looking at your sister that way, but Summer too?”

“Summer is as off-limits as Cass, so watch yourself.”

“Why’s that?” The corner of Jax’s mouth lifted and out came the dimple on that side. It mocked Chase almost as much as the gleam in his eyes. “You feeling brotherly toward her too? Or just especially friendly?”

“You know, for a guy who’s supposed to be a reformed pussy-magnet, you damn sure seem to be on the make. Keep it in your pants for ten and let me explain.” When their pies arrived, Chase nodded and gestured. “Good. Fill your mouth up with that.”

“Cranky and contrary. Nice combo.”

But Jax ate his pie and listened while Chase ran through what had happened with Summer at the club and the ideas he’d been having about starting an agency. By the end of it, the pie was down to crumbs and Jax’s wary expression had turned into pure curiosity.

“What about training? Neither of us has worked in the security field before.”

“Says who? I worked as a bouncer.”

“Oh yeah? For how long?”

Chase leaned back and spread his legs. “It’s not all about length, boy. Don’t you know anything?”

Jax pulled off a piece of the flaky crust and popped it in his mouth. “So you’re talking out of your ass, as usual. Lemme guess. You only bounced for one night.”

Not even a full night. Chase cleared his throat. “So what kind of training?”

“There has to be classes, right? In security techniques and martial arts or whatever…” At Chase’s eyeroll, Jax sighed. “I’ll look into it, if we’re going to be partners.”

That again. “I hadn’t gotten as far as the partners thing, but then I thought I’d be flying solo for a while anyway. I was prepared for you to only be a part-time employee.”

“Partner. Not employee. We don’t go in halves, we don’t go in at all.” Jax laced his fingers together. “Where are you thinking of setting up this agency? You’re not even local, are you?” He wanted to say more, Chase could tell. Jax must’ve developed restraint in the last decade, since he could fish with the best of them.

“Not local to Yardley, but neither are you. Right now I’m based in New York. I’m, ah, pursuing treatment for a slight injury.”

He didn’t appreciate or want Jax’s sympathetic glance at his pitching arm. So his ex-best friend had heard the rumors there too. They were surfacing more often now, especially in his and Jax’s circles. And apparently those of avid “fans” like Mark from the club. No matter how Chase had tried to keep the information on a need-to-know basis, word always traveled eventually. Luckily Jax didn’t comment.

“Yeah, well, I’m about to be local to Yardley again. I got an offer here too good to turn down. Not this one,” Jax put in. “Though this one’s certainly got my attention too.”

Knowing Jax wanted him to ask, Chase said nothing.

“So little Summer, a singer. I should go check her out. Maybe bring Cass—”

“No can do. She’s not telling anyone about this career of hers yet. Her choice,” he put in when Jax started to argue. “She’s the client. We don’t tell her how to run her business. We need to run ours.”

“Has she actually paid you for anything yet?”

“No. Since I don’t have a fee structure set up, I was thinking I’d take her on pro-bono, at least for a while. She’s a good kid,” he added gruffly when Jax continued to stare.

“Good kid. Uh huh. Right.” Jax motioned to their waitress. “Hey, honey, think we need some more pie. And keep it coming. We’re going to be here a while.”

Summer paced backstage in the Vienna Room, her phone to her ear. Behind her Kyle’s strumming scraped over nerves rubbed raw. “I know I said I’d work tomorrow. And I will. I just can’t be there at the crack of dawn, Cass. I’ll be in as soon as I can.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“For God’s sake, no. You’re no better than your brother.”

The momentary silence let her know she’d gone too far. “Have you seen Chase?”

Summer wanted to ask, “Haven’t you?” but she held her tongue. It surprised her more than a little that Chase hadn’t been by to see his sister now that he had so much more free time, but since she was currently hiding out from Chase herself, she couldn’t fault him for his vanishing act. “Yeah, briefly. A few weeks ago. We ended up in the same club. He looks good.” Too good. Lickable wasn’t an overstatement. “He was as overprotective of me as he always is. Just like you. Maybe someday you’ll both realize I’m an adult with my own money and my own life and my own vagina.”

Kyle’s plucking came to a halt. Vaginas weren’t his favorite topic of conversation, but then again, she was pretty sure he wouldn’t enjoy discussing cocks either. He had a sense of decorum she did not possess. Summer tossed him an apologetic glance over her shoulder and mouthed, “Sorry.”

“I’m pretty sure I was already aware of that, especially the vagina situation since yours gets a lot more use than mine. Bitch.” The affection in Cass’s tone made Summer smile. “Look, I’ll back off, okay? Come in when you can tomorrow. I may be done with inventory when you get here, but we can always marathon taste test. And promise me you’ll call if you drink too much and need a ride tonight or whatever. Anytime, from anywhere. Promise me, Sum. Please.”

Summer sighed and clenched the end of the braid she’d tossed over one shoulder. It fit the peasant skirt and floaty blouse she’d worn tonight. The Vienna Room had a relaxed coffeehouse vibe, and she’d dressed to match. She kept tripping on the darn skirt and her lace-up granny boots were squeezing the life out of her bigger-than-waif-sized calves, but whatever. She looked the part. “I won’t be drinking tonight. Much,” she amended, thinking of her flask. “I’ll be totally safe, I promise. But if I need you, I’ll call. Now go do something fun with your Friday night and stop stressing over me, okay?”

“If you insist.” Cass’s long-suffering sigh made Summer grin. “Though I’m not stressing about you, I’m merely inquiring—”

“No need. I’ll be happily orgasming by the end of the night, no worries.” A small lie, but better that Cass think she was hooking up than pursuing a music career. If she was worried now, that would send her into full freak-out mode. Her best friend would be certain Summer had embarked on a path to drugs and danger and emotional ruin.

Summer couldn’t yet say she was wrong—at least about the emotional ruin part—but it didn’t matter. She’d finally started going after her dreams, and she couldn’t turn back now.

“New guy?” Cass asked. “No, I’m not jealous. Not even a little. Okay, I’m lying.”

Summer laughed. “Night, Cass. And goodbye. See you tomorrow.” She depressed the end button, turning into a solid wall of muscle bearing a T-shirt that warned about a Vampire Weekend. She looked up, finally connecting gazes with the surprisingly unamused subject of the bulk of her thoughts for the last two weeks. Her chest went tight. “You again.”

So much for not telling him where she was appearing. Hell, she hadn’t even returned any of his many, many phone calls and texts. Not that it seemed to matter. Bloodhounds looked like shoddy investigators compared to Chase All-Knowing Dixon.

Right now, Dick for short.

“Me.” Chase clamped his arms over his broad chest and lifted a brow in that paternalistic way he had that really turned her thongs inside out. “Orgasming, hmm? That’s what you say on the phone in a public place?” He didn’t give her time to respond before he seized her elbow and propelled her to a shadowy alcove not far from where Kyle had resumed warming up. She’d lay odds poor Kyle was going to be interrupted again anytime now, probably from the screams or the bloodshed. Perhaps both. “Also, now that I see you do, in fact, know how to operate a phone, I’d appreciate you returning my calls.”

“There were too many. You jammed the switchboard.”

“Right. Bet you have them all saved.” He snatched her phone out of her hand and scrolled to her voicemail, his big thumbs surprisingly agile. His mouth stretched into a tight line as he held her cell to his ear while his voice boomed out from the speaker.

She rolled her eyes and looked away. “I saved them to respond to later.”

“When? After the show?”

He knew her too well. “How did you find out where I’d be performing?”

“I have my ways.” He handed her back the phone, that eyebrow still deliberately arched. “I’ll be here tonight through the show. After it’s over, I’ll drive you back home.”

“I don’t need a chaperone.”

“Good. Chaperoning’s not part of my standard fee.” His gaze drifted down her attire, his focus seeming to snag momentarily above her stomach. Sweet Mary, could he actually have noticed she had breasts? He’d had a chance to see them pretty clearly a couple of weeks ago on the couch, but he hadn’t acted particularly impressed at that time.

Massive boner aside, though she figured that had come from simple morning biology and not her smokin’ body.

“So back to the orgasm you were discussing on the phone,” he said pleasantly. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder in Kyle’s direction. “Don’t tell me you and the guitar dude swap fingering lessons between sets?”

Kyle, upon glancing up and discovering he was being visually dissected by a broody, brawny baseball player, faltered on the strings. He frowned and lifted his hand in a half wave, as if he recognized Chase from The Platinum Club. Or maybe he was trying to make friends with the alien life form? Either way, Chase wasn’t having it. His mouth curled into a sneer.

A very sexy sneer, but a sneer nonetheless.

“Kyle, this is Chase. He’s one of my childhood playmates,” she said in her most saccharine sweet voice. Even without looking at him, she could tell by Chase’s instantly rigid posture he didn’t appreciate her assessment of their relationship. Well, too bad. Let him stay in Queens where he belonged and stop nosing into her business. “Chase, this is Kyle, my number one string man.” Kyle was in a committed relationship with his hotter than Hades boyfriend, but Chase could take that statement any way he wanted to.

She strode away without waiting for a response from either of them. It was time to get ready for the show, which meant warm-ups in the back hallway nearest the exit where the acoustics were the best. It was also humid as hell back there, and the proximity to the bathrooms wasn’t ideal, but a girl had to get her sang on where she could.

Chase followed. She could practically feel his warm, minty breath on the back of her neck, causing a shiver she couldn’t control. But she picked her chosen spot in the hallway anyway, closed her eyes and opened her mouth.

She went through the scales, focusing on breathing from her diaphragm and exerting the muscles in her stomach until they burned. Once wasn’t enough. She went through them methodically for several minutes, ignoring the footsteps that clomped past her and the occasional whispers or muttered comments. The whistle she assumed was aimed her way made her smile, but she didn’t open her eyes. This was her job, and she took it seriously.

Besides, if she didn’t look around, she couldn’t see Chase watching her. Evaluating. Probably finding her lacking.

To him, she was nothing more than a wild little girl on the run who couldn’t take care of herself. Nothing quite so hot as feeling like you needed to hold out a burp cloth for somebody. And in her case, he’d yet to even stop supporting her head. She hated behaving like a teenager stuck in an endless tantrum loop, but God, he pushed her buttons.

Especially that big, pulsing one between her legs.

Oh no, oops, that was just her favorite fantasy. Except he didn’t use his fingers. He used those delicious full lips, always one twist of derision away from a smirk. That conceited expression shouldn’t have been a turn-on. The breath she’d carefully conserved for her scales also shouldn’t have immediately wheezed out of her upon turning her head and catching him staring.

Shoulda, coulda, nothing. He did it for her. Always had, always would.

He cocked his head and braced one sneakered foot against the wall, his green eyes barely glittering slashes in the dim light of the hall. “You know how birds sing no matter how small their cage?” he asked, his voice sandpaper rough. “That’s you. Your voice is huge.”

“I have to project in case the acoustics aren’t—”

“It’s a compliment.”

She didn’t know how to respond, so she looked down at her boots while her pulse beat a primal rhythm in her throat. Her vocal cords seemed to throb with her nerves. With her excitement.

For the show, yes. But not only the show. Chase was here, and even if she tried to force back the urge, she’d be singing for him. To him. In her music, he wouldn’t turn her down. He couldn’t. That was the one place she felt sexy beyond compare.

“I’ll be right down front.” The words were laced with something low and throbbing, or else she couldn’t hear him clearly through the haze of her own need. Singing always brought her emotions to the surface, and having him so close in such a confined space was wreaking havoc on her libido—and her heart. “If you need me, pull your braid. If anyone gets too close, or makes you uncomfortable, give me that signal and a directional like this.” He pressed his finger to the side of his muscled thigh. “I’ll figure it out.”

“You really don’t have to do this. This is such a mellow place. Really. I’ve performed here several times and I’ve never had a problem.”

“Don’t fight me any more on this, Summer. I’m staying.” And what he didn’t say, but came through loud and clear in his expression: work with me.

So she would, because she really did appreciate having a friend around. He had a busy life, whether or not he was playing ball, yet he’d taken the time to find out where she was and go there to make sure she was okay. He was a good friend, when he wasn’t being an ass.

“Thank you for coming.” The words came out more softly than she’d intended, but he nodded.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

While she pondered that enigmatic statement, he walked away to take up his post in front of the stage.

After a moment, she followed. Looked like she’d gotten herself a bodyguard, whether or not she wanted one.