I shrugged. “You were going to say something pretentious. Offer me the opportunity of a lifetime.”Your sarcasm’s showing.I could hear my friend Nicole’s voice in my head. “Tell me how you can make all my dreams come true.” I snorted. “I’m a sound engineer, not a singer, so unless you need to produce a recording or hire a professional at your next live performance, then like I said, I’m not buying what you’re selling.”
His every blink was a staccato beat. I could almost hear the crescendo of his thoughts as they built behind his frozen expression. A rest. Then he’s pianissimo again, soft and calm.
“As a matter of fact, I could use an audio engineer.”
Suspicion crept up my spine. “Oh, really?”
He nodded and looked around the studio. I followed his gaze. The lobby was small, but what did he expect? All the magic happened in the two rooms behind me. This space held little more than a couple of chairs, a small side table, some posters of some of my favorite legends—Aretha Franklin, Roy Orbison, John Lennon—and metal die cuts of the bass and treble clefs.
“Why else would I be here?” His eyes held mine. Not in challenge like I would’ve done, but in a silent assurance that I could trust him.
I swallowed back my derision. His Y chromosome made him unlikely to be trusted, but the fact he was a musician guaranteed there was no chance whatsoever.
“Uh-huh.” I turned to put back the Lysol can. I had better things I could be doing.
“Wait.”
I looked over my shoulder, and the persistent nuisance had walked halfway across the room to intercept me.
“I’m not sure what I did or said to get on your bad side.”
I let the silence stretch before replying. “I don’t have a bad side.”
His brows rose. “This is your good side?”
My lips curled. “I only have one side.”
“Right. Okay.” He nodded in agreement like I made perfect sense.
I bit back my grin.
“Can we start over?” He took another step forward and held out his hand, his lopsided, disarming smile steady on his face. “I’m Asher North, lead singer and guitarist for the worship band True North. We’re going on tour in two weeks and are in need of an audio engineer to head up the sound at each of our venues.”
I eyed him from the top of his curly brown hair that looked to have wrestled free from whatever product he’d used that morning to tame it, all the way down to his scuffed low tops. My gaze snagged on his proffered hand. Even when he’d been on the other side of the room he’d felt too close. Dangerous. You didn’t put your hand where a snake could strike it.
As if sensing my resistance, he teased, “I promise I won’t bite.”
I pumped his hand once, then let it go. “Worship band. Like Hillsong United?”
“Something like that, yeah.”
“And you’re only looking for a sound engineer? Nothing else?”
He hesitated.
“I’m assuming since you’re the lead singer of a worship band that you’re a Christian, so I don’t need to remind you of the ten commandments. Especially number nine that says something against telling lies.” I raised an eyebrow.
He huffed, and it sounded like half a groan and half a laugh. “Your voice—”
“Is not singing on stage,” I finished his sentence. I looked at him again. Behind the calm in his eyes, I sensed a deep determination. If I agreed to go on tour with his band as his audio person, he wouldn’t be satisfied. He’d keep strumming this chord—me singing with them in front of the audience—until the strings broke.
And that was never going to happen.
“I’m sorry, but I decline your offer.” I made to turn, but a warm hand on my arm stopped me. I whirled around, my movement knocking his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”
His palms rose in the air, his eyes wide and an apology on his lips. “I’m sorry. Would you at least think about it though?” He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and retrieved a small rectangular piece of paper. “I’m going to leave you my card. It has my number on it.” He leaned over to place the card on the small round table, then picked up a pen and wrote on the back of his card. “I never said how much we could pay. I’ve put the amount there, on the back, in case you’re interested.” He walked backward to the door, his stupid grin in place. “It was nice to meet you, woman whose voice is going to haunt my dreams tonight.”
I didn’t want to be any musician’s dream girl, but before I could tell him my name in hopes of not being a personal nighttime ghost, he was gone.
