“No.” I toss the empty napkin box in the trash and realize I never cut the lemons and limes. They’re still sitting on the cutting board. I pick up a knife and start slicing.

“Was it a date?” Gwen sounds surprised.

“No.”

“It was a date. This is huge,” she emphasizes the word. “He never dates. Never. Never ever ever –”

“Stop,” I laugh. “I know. We discussed it.”

“Was it romantic?  Did you kiss?  Did anything naked happen?”

“It was horribly boring and no.” I’m starting to like this opposite thing.

Gwen looks excited. “This is so much better than my date!  Was it mind-blowing?  It had to be with someone like him.”

“What do you mean ‘someone like him’?  He’s a guy like any other guy.”

“No. He’s a mysterious, reserved, apparently uber romantic, sexy ex-rock star. That’s not any other guy.”

I smile. She’s right. “Well, if you put it that way, it was awful. Hideous. Worst time of my life. You couldn’t pay me to do it again.”

She squeals. Really, really loud. I catch Latson’s eye from across the room. He stops talking to Felix and Kenzie, and they all give us puzzled looks.  I stop cutting fruit and point at Gwen with the knife. “Ssshhh!  People are staring at us!”

She slaps her hand over her mouth. “Sorry!” comes out muffled.

I go back to slicing. “I’m glad you’re excited, but the world doesn’t need to know.”

“I’ll try to contain my enthusiasm,” she says. “This is really awesome news, though. I’m happy for both of you.”

“Thanks. It happened kind of fast.”

“Fast is better in my book,” Gwen says. “Life is short. You should live it up while you can.”

I slide a chopped lemon to one side of the cutting board and then look at her. “I hope you’re right.”

During our shift, business is steady, but not overwhelming. Gwen and I talk in short bursts, until she falls silent because of her pain. She looks like she hurts more and more as time goes on. By midnight, I’m tired of watching her try to hide her grimaces and scowls.

“That’s it,” I say. “You need to go home.”

To my surprise, she doesn’t fight me. “You’re right. It’s only getting worse. The medicine isn’t helping.”

“I’d say all the movement isn’t helping.”

She starts to hobble her way over to me. “I’ll go tell the boss I’m done for the night.”

“No. I’ll go. You don’t need to walk any more than necessary.” I crouch under the bar and come up on the other side. “I’ll be right back.”

Gwen teases me. “Suuure. Use me to go see your boyfriend.”

I smirk, then start to pick my way around people, tables, and chairs. I head to the rear of the bar where Latson’s office is located. As I knock and hear “It’s open,” I realize I’ve never been inside before.

I crack the door and peek around the corner. “Hey.”

Latson looks up and smiles. “Hey.”

He’s wearing his glasses, and my stomach flutters. My gaze leaves him for a moment to look around the office. It’s full of the standard stuff, including the calendar for this month’s entertainment written on a big white board. My eyes study the concert posters hanging on the walls until they land on handmade drawings pinned to a bulletin board behind the desk.

“Did Oliver make those?” I step inside and shut the door behind me.

Latson looks over his shoulder. “Yeah.” He faces me again. “Did you come to look at my art gallery?”

“No, but it’s a perk.” I walk over to get a better view. I hesitate when I get next to his desk. I’m not sure if I should go behind it. “Do you care if I –”

“Get over here.”

He stands and reaches for me, pulling me into his arms. “I’ve been dying to touch you all night.”

I wrap my arms around his waist and snuggle against him. “This violates the five foot rule.”

“It’s three, and I don’t see you complaining.”

I stifle a laugh. He runs his thumbs over my lower back as we stand pressed together. I take a deep breath and inhale his scent. “Why do you smell so damn good?” I ask. “It’s distracting.”

He kisses the top of my head. “I think you answered your own question.”

His hand leaves my waist and removes his glasses, then appears under my chin. I lift my face toward him and as soon as our eyes meet, he lowers his mouth to mine. It’s a heated kiss, like we haven’t seen each other in days, and I’m quickly forgetting the reason I came in here. It doesn’t take long before his hands are in my hair and mine are digging into his back through his ridiculous I licked it shirt. Latson’s hands travel to my waist and he turns us, backing me against his desk. Gently, he lifts me up to sit on the edge, and I wrap my legs around his hips to pull him close. Just as my hands find the bottom of his shirt and slide underneath, the office door opens.

“Hey!  I finally heard from –”

Dean’s excited voice echoes and I nearly jump ten feet in the air. Latson catches me before I fall off the desk and laughs. “Dude. Ever heard of knocking?”

“I’ve never had to before.” I can sense Dean’s amusement. “I see things are progressing nicely. Hi, Jen.”

I turn my red-stained face toward Dean. “Hi.” I start to stand.

“Don’t leave because of me,” he says. “Actually, I’m glad I caught you two together.”

“What’s up?” Latson asks as he helps me hop down.

“I finally heard from Roxanne. I’m in.” Dean’s smile could light up a stadium.

“Yeah?” Latson leaves my side to give his brother a high-five and pull him into a one-armed hug. “That’s great, man.”

“I got the first five months of the tour, the North American leg.”

“You’re going on tour?” I move closer to the guys. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks. I’m opening for Ariel.”

I remember the Wikipedia article and glance at Latson. “As in Ariel Allyn?  Didn’t you two date?”

“A lifetime ago.” Latson wraps his arm around my waist. “When do rehearsals start?”

“Next week. I’ve got Drew on drums and Paul on bass.” Dean looks at me. “That’s where you come in.”

“Me?” I’m confused.

“I need the rest of my band.” He pauses. “I want you on guitar. What do you say?”

Chapter Sixteen

“I …” I stutter.

There’s no way I heard him right.

“I’ve never played for an audience bigger than a wedding.” I gesture toward Latson. “You want him, not me.”

“He won’t come.” Dean crosses his arms. “I asked him months ago, when I first started working this gig. I asked him again the night we played on stage. His answer was still no.”

“Why?” I look at Latson. He looks apprehensive, possibly torn. “You should go.” I nudge him with my elbow. “You love to play.”

He shakes his head no. “I have Oliver. He doesn’t need to live on the road.”

“It’s only five months, right?”

“You don’t …” He sighs. “I’m not traveling with a seven-year-old, and I won’t leave him behind. He deserves better.”

Latson’s arm leaves my waist and he heads behind his desk. Did I upset him?  I didn’t mean to.

“Jen.” Dean redirects my attention. “What do you think?  How does touring sound?”

“I don’t …” Again with the stuttering. I don’t understand why he would want me. I don’t know any of his songs. I’ve never performed on stage. I own a used acoustic guitar. “I need some time to think about it. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“I get it.” Dean steps toward me. “But, keep in mind, everyone has to start somewhere.” He pulls his phone from his pocket. “Why don’t I send you the information and you can look it over?  What’s your email address?”

I give it to him, along with my number. He types them into his cell. “Check your email when you get home and let me know if you have any questions. Rehearsals start in a week, so I need an answer soon. Within twenty-four hours, if you can manage it. If you say no, I need to go to Plan B.”

“What’s Plan B?”

“Begging.”

My forehead pinches. “Begging?  As in begging me?”