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Why wouldn’t he?
It’s enormous, much like Reed himself. It’s big and bulky. So is he. It demands attention and exudes power. Same. It oozes sex appeal. You get where I’m going with this.
It’s practically a monster truck.
I can onlyjustsee over the dash.
I glance across the enormous space between us and take in Reed’s masculine profile as he navigates the streets toward my neighborhood.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t know who Reed Devlin was before today. And yes, I knew what he looked like. I have eyes. And they work. It’s not as if Reed’s face isn’t plastered on every billboard and magazine stand across the entire city.
You don’t get to be the lead singer of a famous rock band without having a huge following. And Reed Devlin definitely has a following. But what surprises me the most is how much better looking he is in real life.
He’s literally sex on legs.
He’s built and beautiful, and when he runs his fingers through his too-long hair, it makes my body stir in the strangest of places.
Ashamed of myself, doesn’t even begin to cut it.
Reed’s jaw is square, strong. His nose is straight, turned up slightly at the tip. His bottom lip is fuller than his top lip, and the scruffy three-day growth covering his cheeks is about three shades lighter than the rest of his dirty-blonde hair.
As he pulls up outside my apartment building, the rain is still falling hard around us, and for reasons that don’t make a whole lot of sense, his expression sours slightly as he takes in the shit hole I get to call home every day.
“So, this is me,” I say quickly, reaching for the door handle. “Thanks for the ride.”
Reed turns slowly to look at me.
It should be illegal for a man to have eyes as piercingly blue as his, with such a sexy glint.
And how is it possible for another human being to smell so damn good?
I think he just asked me a question. I wasn’t listening though. I was momentarily distracted by the intricate tattoos that start at his wrists and disappear up the sleeves of his fitted shirt.
“Pardon?”
“I asked why you were standing out in the rain before. Did you miss your bus?”
The words stick in my throat, but with much reluctance and sheer exasperation, I mumble pathetically, “My car was towed. I didn’t have enough money for a cab, and I have a gig this afternoon. There. Happy?”
He just nods like it’s no big deal. “So why did you have your guitar in your car with you when you were going to a meeting in the city?”
“Again, not that it’s any of your business, but since we’re being all open and honest with each other, for whatever godforsaken reason, I’m not game to leave it behind in…” I wave my hand in front of me to drive home my point. “The Castle De Ruins over there. It’s not exactly safe. My guitar is my income, so I prefer to keep it with me.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks when I notice Reed’s eyes doing a quick sweep of the dilapidated apartment building in front of us.
“Fair enough,” he says, and I swear I see pity in his expression.
Ouch. I don’t want his pity. It cuts a little deep.
“You should get a dead bolt on your door. This is a shitty neighborhood. I used to buy weed from a guy just down the road there when I was a kid. As far as I know, he still lives there.”
“You looking to score?”
He shakes his head. “Not today.”
I sneak a quick glimpse of my apartment building again. Yes, I live in the slummiest part of town. It’s a ghetto, if I’m being totally honest. There’s trash littering the sidewalk, which is mostly due to the dumpster out front overflowing. Graffiti covers the shopfronts, the ones not boarded up, that is, and a family of stray cats dig through the bins on the opposite side of the street, searching for scraps.
“So, you bought drugs here when you were a kid,” I say, desperate to change the subject. “When was that? Last century? How old are you anyway, like, fifty?”
