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His horrified gasp isn’t even a joke. He really gasps like that when someone offends him with words his own brain has never strung together.
“Well! I don’t?—”
“Oh no! What was that? You’re cutting out… Jarvis? Babe, you there? Huh. Guess I lost him.”
I hang up.
Whew. Interacting with that man is exhausting to say the least. It’s good our schedules don’t allow for much of that.
When I sense a presence hovering in the entrance to my studio, I glance back and bolt up from the couch.
“Nash!”
I rush in for a hug, but my friend directs me toward his companion instead.
My heart lurches in my chest. No introduction necessary.
“Oh my goodness! Val!” I throw my arms around the stranger who doesn’t seem like a stranger.
The guy tenses for a second, and I’m worried I’ve scared him until a beautiful grin lights up his face.
Wow.
Sea green eyes shine back at me, deep and mesmerizing in the studio lights. His hair is shoved under a ball cap, and a simple t-shirt contrasts beautifully with the intricate tattoos scattered over his arms and peeking through the collar of his shirt. He’s a lot taller than I expected. And… attractive.
You have a boyfriend, Larinda.
Sort of. But it doesn’t mean I can’t make an empirical observation. For example, I also notice his t-shirt has an ironic “I’m with the band” emblazoned on the soft gray fabric and there’s a small X tattoo beside his right eye. In addition, his irises are a hypnotic shade of gr… Wait, I already noticed that. See? I notice things. That’s me. The woman who notices stuff.
“Hi, Larinda. Nice to meet you,” he says. Even the tone of his voice is an enigmatic mix of boy-next-door sweet and rough-rocker sexy. Who is this person? What’s his story? Six words in and he’s already more interesting than Jarvis.
That’s not nice.
No, it’s not. True, though.
“You didn’t tell me he was so cute,” I joke. “Look at you. You’re freaking adorable. Geez.”
Understatement, but it seems like a safe compromise between how I’m supposed to be feeling and what’s really happening in my belly right now. When he blushes—blushes!—I’m forcing away all kinds of fizzy bubbles inside. Who the heck is sweet and genuine enough to be embarrassed anymore? No one in my world, that’s for sure.
Val’s shy smile is something I know I’m going to want to see again. And again.
Maybe this is a bad idea. You cannot afford a crush on your producer. For. So. Many. Reasons.
I force away thoughts of DJ Master Klau$ and how much I’m already going to have to fight my label to let me work with this young unknown.
Work. Yes. Let’s get those green eyes staring at a screen and not at me like I’m a puzzle they want to solve. It’s not a reaction I’m accustomed to—but one I like way too much, apparently.
Waving toward the desk, I force my brain back to business mode.
“I know you converted the midi tracks to .wav files so I could listen,” I begin, “but I told my people to grab all the plugins you use so you don’t have to do that anymore. We’ll also stick with SoundStage 4 as our DAW to make things easy.”
I’m not sure how to interpret Val’s surprise. Did he assume I’m a ditzy popstar like everyone else? Why does that thought bother me more than it usually does?
“Is that why you asked what software I was using?” he asks.
“Yes. I figured it’ll be a lot easier to collaborate if we’re all using the same stuff now that we’re working together full-time.”
His eyes go wide. Shocked him again, I guess. Nash too, based on my friend’s uncertain glance between me and Val. I’m just full of surprises tonight.
