No. No fluttering.
“How so?” I ask.
“He’s a total music snob. Went to the New England Conservatory of Music.”
That stops me cold. “Patty did? That’s one of the best music schools in the country.”
I try to square that with the man I met over the summer. The guy who helped break down the stage after my concert andbarely spared me a glance. I didn’t even apply to NECM because I was afraid I’d get rejected. And he went there?
“I know,” Ash says. “Musicians call him, asking if they can play here. It’s like a rite of passage for Southern rock bands. You should check with your mom.”
The butterflies in my stomach drop dead.
Not because I don’t love my momma.
Because I’m terrified I’ll never live up to her.
“Winona Williams knows all,” I say lightly, forcing a smile.
“That’d make a great TV show,” Jane says from across the table. “Winona Williams Knows All.”
“I’d watch it,” Millie agrees.
“Me too,” I say, trying not to think too hard about it. But my headache pounds harder. When the server comes to take our orders, I get nothing but soup and a giant Dr Pepper Zero, which means my friends immediately know something’s up.
“You have a migraine?” Parker asks.
“It’s nothing,” I say, pushing back from the table. “I’m just gonna hit the ladies’ room. Be right back.”
After a quick bathroom break, I round the corner back into the bar and stop short. I see a shaggy mess of brown hair. A white T-shirt stretched across a broad chest.
Patty.
And those traitorous butterflies come right back to life, swirling like a tornado.
I glance at my table. I could walk away. Ishouldwalk away. My biggest tour rule is no distractions.
Not that Patty could be a distraction. I leave town tomorrow morning so my band and I can rehearse at the venue.
If I can only get a monitor engineer.
I slump onto a stool and press my fingers to my scalp, massaging away the tension.
“Bad day?” a voice drawls, smooth and smoky as burnt molasses.
Oh. Oh my.
I missed his voice the first time we met, when I called him “a roadie for hire.” I was too distracted by the way he managed to hide in plain sight, in spite of how attractive he could be … if you could notice him at all.
How did I miss that voice?
I lift my head and meet Patty’s eyes, and he reacts by blinking twice. Something tells me that’s straight up shock in the language of Patty.
“You could say that,” I tell him.
He pours a drink for someone and turns back to me. “What can I get you?”
“Nothing.” I nod toward my table. “I have a Dr Pepper waiting for me.”
