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“You look fantastic,” he finally said. “Dressing up for me?” Wrapping his arm around my shoulders, he pulled me into his chest. His head ducked down to kiss me, but I stepped out of his grasp.
“No.”
From his perch on the floor, Tate boomed out a laugh.
“I didn't mean… I just…” Imploring Dion with my eyes, I reached for him before I could help myself. He caught my hand easily, pulling me back into the warmth of his chest. Startled, I shot a glance at Tate.
“Dion.” With my hands trapped at my sides, I couldn't push him away. And I was hyper aware that Tate was right there, watching every move we made.
“Relax.” Twirling me around, he wrapped his hands around my waist so we were both facing Dionysus Rising’s bass player. “Tate is cool, right?”
Tate’s facial expression didn't change. He sat there crossed legged with the guitar settled on his lap, and just stared. There was no way to read his face. It was perfectly serene. But then, apart from the few times I had seen him mucking about with my brother, Tate seemed the mostzenguy I had ever met. Unflappable and unreadable.
“We’re cool,” he finally said. His words were as calm as his face, but there was something there that made me uncomfortable.
“Tate, if my brother…”
There it was, the first flicker of amusement in his light brown eyes. “Oh, sweet girl, if you think Louis doesn't know what's going on, then you don’t know your brother at all. Either that or you're a fool.” He cocked his head to the side. “You don't look like a fool to me. Especially not dressed like that.” He winked.
Self–consciously, I glanced down at my outfit. My brother was my whole world. And I owed him a lot. The last thing I wanted was this thing between me and Dion to cause him problems.
“Louis will come around, Lola, especially when he hears the song.”
I stared at him in shock. “Song?” Slowly, I turned my attention to the man holding me. Dion wasn't looking at me, and there were two red points high on his cheeks. Dion Granger was blushing. It was adorable and sweet. And so damn surprising that I reached out and rubbed my thumb over one of those spots. He caught my wrist easily.
“Did you write a song about me?”
“No.” His grip on my wrist tightened as he pulled my arm back down to my side. “It's just a song, that's all. I write them all the time.” He stepped away.
“Ok?” I shot a look at Tate, who shrugged. Dion was a strange creature, a hard to understand man, not to mention an infuriating one. But I truly didn't understand his sudden shift in attitude. I knew they had been writing music: the evidence was all over my living room. It had been Tate that had hinted it was about me; I’d just followed his lead.
A heavy, uncomfortable silence wrapped around us. The room was so quiet that the sound of my heart seemed loud in my ears.
“Well, I best be going.” Reaching for my coat, I'd barely gotten my arms through when Dion reached for me again.
“Where are you going?”
“I have a job interview.” I smiled up at him because I just couldn't stay mad at him for long. Even if he was being a jerk, he was an adorable jerk. I think it had something to do with the dimple that popped every time he looked at me and smiled. I'd always been a sucker for a dimple.
“You do? Why?”
“Because normal people need to work, Dion.” Reaching up, I kissed his cheek softly. “We can't all be rockstars.”
“But you’ll be back?”
Yep, it was official. He was an adorable lost puppy wrapped up in bad boy swagger. “I'll be back, Dion.” Winking at Tate, I headed towards the door and then called over my shoulder. “Ilive here, remember?”
* * *
“Personally, I think you will fit in really well here, Miss Michaelson.” The hand that was thrust over the desk was tanned and elegant. I shook it without hesitation, keeping my grip light but firm enough for him to know I wasn’t intimidated by him.
And I wasn't. It was pretty hard to be intimidated by a hot and much younger than expected principal when I'd been around men like Dion.
“Thank you, Mr Scott. Does that mean…?”
He hadn't officially said it out loud yet, and I needed to hear it.
“Call me Tom, and yes, it means you have the job.” Bright eyes framed with wire trim glasses wrinkled at the corners, deepening the lines there. It made him look older, but no less handsome. Some guys just aged well. “You start January 4th, if that's suitable for you?” He glanced down at the sheets of paper on the desk in front of him.
