My first thought the next morning is that those last tequila shots weren’t the best idea.

My second thought is that Evie is in my bed. I stretch my arm out, anticipating sleep-warm skin, and instead get cold, clammy sheets.

The aftereffects of the tequila resurge as I raise my head, squinting in the gloom toward the bathroom. The door’s open, the lights are off and there’s no sound.

I groan a few choice words as I haul myself off the mattress and make a pit stop in the bathroom before heading downstairs. Voices echo in the hallway as soon as I open the door. Maybe she’s already digging into breakfast. Or lunch. Or just some aspirin and water.

But when I walk into the kitchen, it’s a sausage fest. Bax, Noah, and James are gathered around the kitchen island watching something sports related on the TV visible from the living room.

I grab a bottle of water out of the fridge and gulp the whole thing down with four migraine pain relievers then belly up to the island.

“Your girl left a few hours ago with Dodge and Darcy,” Noah says, answering the question I hadn’t figured out how to ask yet.

“Wasn’t mad or anything like that,” Bax adds. “Did seem she felt a little awkward. Could have been Dodge half naked though.”

“Or the mostly naked lookalike blondes kissing you goodbye,” James throws in, tossing some almonds into his mouth. Just once I’d like to see the guy chow down on some cupcakes.

“I’ll call her after the hangover chills out.” These are the mornings all the natural light in my kitchen is a bad feature.

After a moment, the silence is suspicious. I raise my head to three sets of eyes staring at me expectantly. “What?”

“You like her.” Give Bax points for stating the obvious.

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing about that?” Noah asks, trying to sound diplomatic, but there’s an agenda here.

I gulp more water and put my elbows on the table. It’s my doing business pose, though it’s hard to look businesslike with hair matted to your face and bloodshot eyes. “Hanging out. Having fun. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do with someone you like? I’m not shopping for rings or anything.”

“Told you,” James says, putting out his palm. Bax sighs and digs his wallet out of his back pocket.

“Third bet I’ve lost on this. You owe me.” Bax glares at me for all of three seconds before a grin splits his face, even though he’s handing over a few hundreds.

Anger bubbles in my guts, but I’m not sure who, or what, to be angry at. “Told him what?” I finally demand.

“That you’re head over heels and lying to yourself about it,” James says with a shrug.

“The second one was whether or not you banged her yet. You can be extra ornery with them about that one,” Noah adds.

“What was the first one?”

Bax shifts in his seat. “Whether or not she was going to quit after she saw me and Dodge in the green room after the show in Vegas.”

“Fucking hell. Don’t tell her any of this.”

“Wasn’t going to. But you may want to tell her you’re having feelings before you bang her. Since she’s worried about her career and whatnot.” This from James, who as far as I know, hasn’t had the warm fuzzies for anyone since The Breakup Disaster.

“Why would she be worried about her career? She’s awesome.”

James swivels his seat to face me head on. “Sometimes, you are a dumb ass.”

“No shit,” Bax and Noah say in unison.

Sparing them a glare would be less glare for James, so I stay focused on him. “I am too hungover and not real happy she left, so spit it the fuck out.”

James flips me the bird but then speaks. “One, her boss is a sexist fucker who’s probably tried both to pimp her to potential clients and is waiting for her to misstep so he can fire her ass. A sexist fucker we are quietly looking into ending a contract with. Two, we sort of have a rule about not messing around with employees.”

A rule I am blatantly breaking. Whatever recriminations are coming my way, Evie is worth it. I shift in my seat, thinking of how best to defend our relationship, whatever it is, but James continues before I come up with anything that isn’t mushy as hell.

“You like her. You never like anybody this way. If you only wanted to fuck her, you would have just fucked someone else until it passed. No, you’ve got smitten written all over you.”

“When did you start using words like smitten?”

“I read, okay, Bax? Try it sometime. They even have books about drums and sex.”

Bax flips him the bird this time. It’s a show of affection, really.

“Anyway, I know we made that rule because I fucked up and misjudged a situation. Horribly. And don’t think I didn’t figure it out a long time ago that you guys all rallied around the rule to make me feel better because I’m the youngest and you all think of me like a little brother.”

“Aww, you are awfully cute.” Noah reaches over and rubs his palm over James’s peach fuzz haircut. This borders on a fist flying offense, but James merely smacks his hand away.

“But we’re older now, and maybe a little wiser, and Evie seems like a good addition to our little fucked up family.”

I sit up and blink at James a few times. “Wow. Was that a blessing?”

The bad thing about drummers is that they’re fast with hitting things. Even the back of my head, which starts to pound before Bax even puts the hand he hit me with back on the quartz countertop.

“Fuck, dude.”

“Don’t be a dick. We love you and all, but we also like Evie and don’t want you to fuck this up. For either of you. Or us, because she’s a great pyrotech and we kind of want to keep her.” Noah flutters his eyelashes at me. So I flip him my favorite finger.

“Which brings us to the issue of her asshole boss.” James has moved away from the emotional part of this little meeting, which is just fine with me. “Terrel is having a look around while we’re home and seeing what other companies are doing the kind of pyro we need. And if they’re hiring new techs.”

“You guys have had a busy morning.”

“We have. So I’m going to take a fucking nap.” Bax climbs off the barstool and disappears around the corner to one of my guest rooms.

“Don’t suppose anyone caught an address from Darcy?”

Noah and James both shake their heads, attention back on the game. Then Noah adds, “They were almost out the door when Dodge hitched a ride. Darcy didn’t seem too pleased about it. If you commiserate, you may be able to get it from her.”

James speaks around a mouthful of almonds. “Clean up first. You look like shit.”

***

Washing every dish in my kitchen is a stupid way to distract myself from what a coward I am. Why didn’t I just stay this morning?

Glasses. I’ll wash all of them too.

He didn’t turn me down. Not really. I have a vague recollection of philosophizing about chemical compounds and things that shouldn’t mix, and how maybe it was just timing and place, not the actual explosion, that decided whether or not is was a disaster.

We were both a little too drunk. And him, a little too stoned. The sex would not have been good. Maybe it wouldn’t have been any better this morning, but at least I wouldn’t have to live with sneaking out on the man.

I’m up to my elbows in bubbles and blasting women power R&B when a loud knock makes me jump.

Bubbles drip on my floor even as I try to wipe them on a towel as I move toward the door. By the twist of my guts, at least some part of me knows it’s Grady. Who else would it be.

He’s looking at his phone when I open the door, his other hand in his pocket. His pose isn’t casual though. His feet are planted slightly wider than hip width, his shoulders tense.

Which only makes the ragged jeans and white tank top look hotter. All his tattoos are on display today, even the ones on the tops of his feet since he’s wearing cheap flip flops. He probably could have bought a hundred pairs for the cost of the mirrored sunglasses he’s sporting.

“Um. Hi.”

“Hey,” he says distractedly, still looking at his phone. “Ahh, good. Heather got us into Beyoncé’s show. She’s playing the night after us in New York.”

“Beyoncé?” I ask stupidly. Heather works for their management company. I missed her official title, but Lass calls her the Itinerary Empress.

Grady points toward my apartment, where Beyoncé is blasting from the stereo. “You’re not a fan?”

He heard a song playing in my apartment and got tickets? Who is this guy?

“Yeah. No, I mean, I am. A fan. But… you just… got tickets?” They were sold out, not that my schedule lined up with any of her dates anyway.

“More or less. Industry thing.” His phone beeps again and he swipes at the screen.

New York? Was that on my tour itinerary. “Am I even on the tour then?”

Grady’s brows are drawn tight when his head snaps up. His sunglasses make it hard to read his expression. After a moment, he shrugs. “We’ll work it out.”

“Oh.”

He pockets his phone and looks at me. “So, going to invite me in?”

I shake my head. My life wasn’t exactly normal before I started working for Bourbon Suicide, but now I almost didn’t recognize it.

“Sure. Come in.”

I glance quickly around the small space as I step back to let him in. The doorway is so narrow his arm brushes against me as he walks in. All I have to do to turn down the music is reach over.

Well, this should throw some reality into the situation.

Instead, he turns in a circle, smiling as he takes off his sunglasses and tosses them onto a chair. “Wow. I think your whole place could fit to the left, to the left, of my garage.”

“Ha ha. Clever. The door is on your left.” I don’t mean it, but I leave the door open as I head back to the kitchen.

He shuts it.

“Whoa. Hold the fuck up.” He makes a beeline for the wall of photos. “Is this on the set of Apocalypse X?”

His face is so close to the frame I expect a nose print.

“Yeah. I did some effects on a few episodes.”

“Seriously?” He leans through the opening in the wall between my kitchen and the main living space. “That is fucking awesome. I love that show.”

He’s looking at me like fans look at him. It’s…disconcerting. I shove my hands back into the soapy water with a shrug. “It was a job.”

“Pffft. A job.” He takes his sweet time looking around the rest of my place, including sticking his head in the bathroom. “Pink flamingo shower curtain. More fun than my bathroom.”

I bark a laugh. “Your bathroom has six showerheads, heated towel racks, heated floors, and a jet tub.”

“But it doesn’t have pink flamingos.”

With his flip flops, I know exactly where he is. He comes into the kitchen and leans against my counter. It creaks with his weight, but he doesn’t bolt upright like other people do.

“I like your place,” he says after a while, like he’s thought about it and reached a conclusion. “I like you.”

“Ahh, shucks. I like you too,” I say, fluttering my eyelashes at him.

He looks casual, feet crossed at the ankles, fingers curled loosely over the edge of the counter. But his expression is serious.

“I like you, Evie,” he says again, his eyes boring into mine. “You’re smart and you’re fun and you’re great at your job and you don’t take any of my shit and you get what I do. You’re so damn beautiful and strong and sexy as hell and I like you.”

My stomach drops. “Oh.”

His lips twitch. “Yeah. Oh. So I’d like to see where this goes. Just thought you should know that.”

I’m squeezing the glass under the water so hard I’m surprised it hasn’t broken. “Declaring your intentions?” That was supposed to be a tease, a move back away from emotional territory, but my voice squeaks.

He smiles and pushes off the counter. “Something like that.”

“Oh.”

“Darcy says I owe you a secret, by the way.” He lifts the dishtowel off the rack and picks up a glass from the rinse side of the sink. “I had to beg her for your address this morning.”

One eyebrow slides up his forehead. Yeah, so maybe I should have given him that myself.

“Darcy has this thing about all debts being paid. The debt for giving up your address is that I have to tell you something about her.”

“About her? That doesn’t make any sense.”

One cannonball shoulder lifts. He picks up another glass. “It does to her. She told me, so it’s her debt. But I don’t have any dirt on Darcy.”

“Going to tell me something about you then?”

“Nope.”

Dammit. Some leverage may have put my world back on its axis. He likes me?

“Going to throw Dodge under the bus, since he let you leave this morning.”

I snort. “Dodge was in no shape to stop me.”

“Nevertheless. It’s Dodge’s turn to check the undercarriage of the bus.”

“You guys have a weird dynamic.”

“Stick around. You haven’t seen anything yet.”

Dodge was one of his oldest and closest friends. A brother, really. He wasn’t going to betray that trust too bad. “All right, hit me.”

“As you may have noticed on the ride home this morning, Dodge and Darcy have an…interesting dynamic as well.”

My hand flies up, bubbles landing on his face. “Do not throw Darcy under the bus too. I do not want insider information. Makes things awkward and I just met her.”

He continues without even acknowledging my words or the bubbles.

“Darcy ignores the signs, but Dodge would willingly put his own balls in a jar on her bedside table if she’d let him.”

I hang my head. “Fuck. I did not need to know that.”

“Everyone knows that. It’s just nobody will say it out loud.”

“But you just told me.”

He nods. “Because you didn’t know. And it’s not fair if everyone does but you.”

I chew my bottom lip as he takes the last glass from me, dries it, and adds it to the pile on my counter. He wipes the wet streak left by the bubbles off his face then holds the towel out for me.

“Let me save you the math,” he says, running a knuckle down my neck. I shiver despite the ninety-degree heat. I have air conditioning, but it’s still warm in here, even without Grady bringing the sexy. “You’re holding back because you think this is just temporary. That you’ll be off to another job in a few weeks. But you belong in this world, Evie. And not because of us. There wouldn’t be an us if you didn’t belong here.”

I pull the stopper from the sink and watch the water drain as I rinse my hands. I take the towel he’s still holding out and dry my hands, ignoring the slight tremble as I back toward the table. It, like the rest of my place, is small but sturdy, a retro-styled chair placed at either end.

“Complicate things much?” I ask, my thighs bumping the table. It knocks against the wall under the opening and rattles the empty candle holders sitting there.

I wanted the colorful ceramic because it brought some life into the space, but the candles would never get used, and the scent would become overwhelming in a closed-up apartment.

My mind always seizes on insignificant details to avoid feelings.

Grady doesn’t know that about me, but he isn’t having it all the same. He takes two steps and pulls out one of the chairs for me, then opens my refrigerator and laughs. He laughs often and easy, like life has always been easy, even though I know how much work it took to get where he is, where the band is still going.

“We’re ordering take-out later, I see. No problem, there’s a good pizza shop a few blocks from here.” I picked up the orange juice yesterday but not much else. The seal on the cap snapping is loud as he twists it then pours me a glass and sets it on the table as I sink into the chair.

“How’re those rationalizations going?” he asks a few moments later over the rim of his own glass. He’s back to leaning against the counter. “We at the part where you call me a cockbag yet? I like that part.”