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Whoa. She’d never felt this kind of attraction before.
The look in his eyes—it was a clash of confusion, want, and stark yearning. Shaken, he swallowed and held up the boxes. Which one?
She couldn’t have cared less about food in that moment. Her body was still pulsing with desire. “Let’s just share the big one. Should I bring something to Van?”
“No, he can’t eat before a performance. He’ll either grab something in the green room after the show or order room service.”
“Okay. What can I do to help?”
He pried off the top and stuck it in the microwave. “Just grab yourself something to drink.”
She pulled two glasses from the cabinet and a bottle of seltzer out of the fridge. “Water? Or do you want something else?”
“Hm?” He glanced over to her. “Oh. Just water, please.” He grabbed a notebook off the counter and wrote something down.
Which was an excellent reminder that he needed her to focus on the job. And, honestly, she marveled at his ability to handle every single detail of this massive production. “You’ve got a million balls in the air, and I don’t want you to forget that I’m standing right next to you. Let me take some things off your plate.”
He stopped writing to really look at her for the first time since they’d left for soundcheck. He smiled, and it transformed his features. It made him softer, less intimidating. “It would be impossible to forget you’re here. But this one’s something you can’t help with.”
“Okay.” She brought their drinks and silverware to the table.
The microwave beeped, and he transferred the steaming food to two dishes. Setting their plates down, he slid in beside her. He seemed preoccupied.
The spicy scent of the enchiladas roused her appetite. “I might not be able to physically do anything, but sometimes it helps just to talk it through. I can listen, be a sounding board.”
“It’s not something I can articulate.” He tapped the eraser-end of the pencil on the notebook. “The song’s off.”
“Maybe after the show, you and Van can work it out together. Get that twinergy going.”
“No, he…” His jaw snapped shut.
You’ve got to be kidding me. She laughed. “Is Van musical at all?”
Bex cut into an enchilada and shoveled a huge bite into his mouth, cutting off his ability to answer.
“Oh, my God. Van’s nothing more than the face, isn’t he? You’re the creative genius and the business manager.” She set her fork down. “You don’t owe me an explanation. I’m just a temporary employee, but boy, would I like one.”
“Yeah, I get it.” He shifted uncomfortably. “NDA, right?”
“Absolutely.”
“We started out performing as a family, but when we got signed, it was clear to the producer that I was the only one who gave a shit about music.”
“Then why the hell aren’t you performing? Why is the band not Bex Claybourne?”
“I’m not a performer.” He shrugged. “I don’t like it. My brain…it churns out words, thoughts, melodies. It understands composition and notes. But the life of a musician…”
Something was off. “But you live the life of a musician. Even if you’re in the background, you’re still on the road. You’re literally doing everything a rock star does and more. The only thing you’re not doing is standing up on that stage.” When he stuffed another forkful of food into his mouth, she laughed. “You’ve got an adorable way of telling me to mind my own business. You, my friend, are a complex man. This whole experience has blown my mind.”
“It’s unusual. I’ll admit that.”
“Okay, because you’re paying me to sit at this table with you, I’ll change the subject, but don’t think for a second I’m satisfied with your answers. So, does your mom live in LA? Where are your two younger siblings now?”
“Yeah, Mom’s in LA. We got a nice house for her with enough bedrooms for us all to come and stay. But Van and I prefer the mountains, so we’ve both got places in Calamity.”
“See, now that surprises me. He seems into the whole rock star lifestyle.” An image of two women on their knees and his lazy smile dropped into her mind.
“I’m willing to talk about me, but I’ll let Van speak for himself.”
