AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It made her want to close her eyes and breathe deeper.
So not going to happen. Business. It was all about business. She straightened her shoulders. “I, on the other hand, am willing to maintain a neutral stance.”
“Neutral, huh? Sounds interesting.”
He was still smiling. Zach Harper’s smile had always made it difficult to concentrate.
She turned back to face the studio. She hadn’t been in here in forever. There was a tiny recording booth and board in the next room, but this main room was rehearsal space. A guitar case lay open by a stool and a mic stand. The guitar itself was resting carefully on a stand.
“Is that your dad’s old Martin Shade-Top?” she asked. “Nice.” She wandered over to look at the guitar, but didn’t touch it. She’d seen Grey play this guitar a hundred times. Rarely on stage, but it was one he reached for when he was jamming with friends or working out an idea in the studio or just roaming the house trying to work up a song.
She hadn’t realized Zach had kept it.
“Yes,” Zach said. “I brought a few of his with me. Thought I could warm up the place with some sounds it remembered. Kind of reintroduce myself.”
She understood. A studio was more than a room. Every space had its own personality, the little quirks and foibles that gave it a unique sound. Musicians were superstitious about such things. There was a reason Grey had rebuilt a studio in this spot after all. She knew every inch of the studios at Harper Inc., knew how to coax them into behaving and giving her back some glorious music.
She’d never recorded here though. Maybe her dad had, but she couldn’t remember him mentioning it. This had been Grey’s space. Blacklight space. Sacred Harper ground. So how did Zach feel standing here?
“Sounds like a good idea to me,” she said. “Get a feel for it again.”
She circled the guitar, which brought her back face to face with the man. Who looked almost … relieved? Why? Because she’d told him that what he was doing made sense. Wait, was Zach nervous about recording an album?
He stood there, barefooted, wearing worn jeans that hung loose around his hips and a plain white T-shirt. Textbook. He looked good but up close, tired too. There were some shadows under those Harper eyes—more gray today—that didn’t usually mar his face. Well, he’d been touring, and that was exhausting even if he hadn’t been screwed over by his bandmate at the end of it.
“So,” she said. “Faith said you’re planning on being here for a while.”
His face tightened. “She told you, right? About Ryder?” His shoulders tightened. She tried not to look at them. He wasn’t taller than when he left—and definitely not since the last time she’d actually seen him—but he was broader now. Stronger.
All traces of the lanky teenager of her memories gone. Leaving only a man.
A distractingly good-looking man.
Don’t think about that.
“She may have mentioned something.” She held up a hand as his brows drew together. “The news is going to be out soon enough, Zach. You can’t keep something like that secret for long. Frankly, I’m surprised you’ve managed it for this long. It’s what … two weeks since your tour ended? Long enough for your management to be spinning bullshit about you all being out of town on vacation or something, but if you guys had anything lined up over the summer, they’re going to have to start canceling soon. Then it will be all over the place. Have you got your stories straight?”
He grimaced. “I’m still not sure what the damn story is. Fucking Ryder.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Which only drew her attention to the tanned muscle of his arms and wrists.
Dammit. Guitarists had good arms. His were no exception. In fact, they were a pretty damn good example of that particular piece of male anatomy. Maybe even a perfect one. The guitar tatts on his right forearm only highlighted the delicious lines of muscle. And the edges of a tattoo she hadn’t seen before poked beneath the edge of the left arm of his T-shirt, making her fingers itch to push the soft white cotton up and see what he’d marked his skin with. And then she could—no.
Mind on the job.
Shoving thoughts of other things musicians were good at out of her mind, she made what she hoped was a sympathetic face. It wasn’t that she was pleased that Zach’s band was imploding around his ears, but the part of her that was Faith’s best friend had to admit to a tiny bit of satisfaction that karma was coming around. Zach had bailed on Faith when they’d tried to get a career off the ground. They’d been struggling and then their dad had gotten sick. They’d taken a break to figure out their next steps, and Zach had been offered a temporary gig filling in for Fringe Dweller’s guitarist. Temporary had turned to permanent, leaving Faith stranded, dealing with the brunt of Grey’s illness, and stepping up to gradually take over running the business side of the Harper Inc. empire as he faded. Not to mention looking after Mina, who’d still been a teenager when Grey had first been diagnosed with liver cancer. And who’d then decided to marry her high school sweetheart at eighteen. Only to lose him in a car accident three years later.
Through all of it, Faith had stood, stayed. Been here. Zach, on the other hand, had run. That was his choice. And hey, maybe in his shoes she might have done the same. But maybe now he was going to have to make some different ones.
“Did Ryder say anything about what brought this on?” she asked.
“He’s not using. If that’s what you’re asking. Not as far as I know,” Zach said. “None of us are into that shit.” He hitched a shoulder, mouth grim as he stared down at the guitar. Which had been owned by a man who hadn’t exactly had “Just say no” as his life’s motto. Not until it was too late.
Then he looked back up. “So no, Ry hasn’t really offered an explanation. There was a girl about a year ago that he was mooning over and she split, but if that’s what brought this on, then it’s one hell of a delayed reaction.”
His voice had turned frustrated. And she was here to ask him to take a big chance on her. So perhaps steering the conversation back into safer waters might be a smart idea. “Well, I think you’re doing a smart thing. Coming back here, I mean. Get some songs together. See what happens.”
“Faith told you that part too, huh?” He looked amused.
“Dude, of course she told me. She can’t vent about you to Mina, she’s trying to be fair.”
