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“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I inquire as I take a sip of coffee. Hot damn, it’s good coffee. Just what I need this morning.
He walks further into the room before stopping and turning to face me. “Just checking in on you. You were pretty tired so I wanted to make sure you didn’t miss your flight.”
“Thank you.” I hold the coffee up. “And thank you for this. It’s heaven in a cup.”
“It is, isn’t it? It’s from that same café I took you to.”
“I’ll have to remember that café the next time I visit Sydney.”
“What time’s your flight?”
“It’s been cancelled, so I’m just about to find a new one.”
A thoughtful look crosses his face. “I have a spare seat you can take.”
“Huh?”
“My band’s flying home at seven tonight, and our manager was supposed to fly out with us, but he has to stay another night now, so we have a spare seat.”
I’m not sure why I’m feeling all mushy and excited at his suggestion when my head is screaming to refuse. I don’t fucking do mushy. And yet, my heart and stomach are all mushy.
Shit.
The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them. “That would be great.”
His face lights up. “I’ll organise it. We’re leaving the hotel at four, though. Sorry about that.”
“I don’t mind, but why so early?”
He sighs. “Our drummer, Hunter, has this thing about always being on time. He hates being late, and we always have to leave for everything hours in advance.”
I shrug because I get that. Totally. It’s something I do. “Well, I guess on the upside, your band must have a reputation for never being late to a concert. I bet your fans love you for it ‘cause I’ve gotta say, there’s nothing worse than when you go to a concert and they can’t even be bothered to start on time.”
He grins again. “Yeah, that’s us, and you’re right, the fans do love it. Thank fuck for Hunter, huh?”
I raise my coffee in the air. “Cheers to Hunter.”
He chuckles, and it warms me. It’s been too long between men for me, and I’m enjoying this more than I want to. “I would ask you to lunch, but I’ve got some meetings to attend before we head out.”
I wave my hand at him. “No, that’s okay. I’ve got editing to do anyway. I’ll see you at four down in the lobby.”
He spends a moment or two looking at me. I’m not sure why, and it flusters me a little. And the fact it flusters me, shits me because I don’t get flustered. A bit like I don’t do mushy. Bloody hell, this man is bringing all kinds of shit out in me.
I’m relieved when he finally speaks. “Okay, sweetheart. I’ll see you then.”
He leaves, and I’m left in a bewildered state. It’s been a long time since a man’s managed that. I’m a little disappointed, though. Jett’s a rock star and I won’t date a rock star ever again. Not after the last one ripped my heart out and left me to bleed tears of heartbreak and regret.
I spot Jett as soon as I enter the lobby later that day. He’s standing near some couches, talking on his phone. Sitting on the couches are three men and they all look fairly bored. Must be his band members.
As I walk over to them, Jett spots me and grins. By the time I get to them, he’s ended his call and gives me his full attention. “You still look tired. You didn’t get to catch up on some sleep?”
“No, I had to get my editing done. Did you get any?”
He shakes his head. “No, we’ve been in meetings all afternoon.”
His band members are all watching me with what looks to be fascination. One of them stands and comes toward us. The grin on his gorgeous face is devious, and I wonder what he plans to say. I rake my gaze over him. He’s tall and muscly, but not in an overly built way. It’s what I call a skinny-muscly look. His dark hair looks good against his tanned skin, and he’s rocking some serious ink, even more so than Jett. I don’t have any tats, but the artist in me loves the idea of decorating my body with meaningful images and words.
“I can see why Jett gave you our spare seat,” he says, appreciative eyes checking me out.
