Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 93957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
“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.