Play With Me - Brittany Cournoyer Page 0,20

are still in the ignition, and you’ll have to adjust the seat,” he explained.

“Great. I’ll uh, be by in a few weeks to make another payment?” It came out more like a question since I’d basically lost most of my brain function.

“That works. And unless you need anything else, I’ll see you tonight.”

“Right. Tonight. I’ll, uh, see you then.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

So was I. With a quick nod and small smile, I turned and left the auto shop. Only once I was in my car and driving down the road did I finally feel the tension leave my body as I expelled a long breath.

Holy fuck. I was in trouble. Big trouble.

And I’d be lying to myself if I said I wanted anyone else but Stellan to dole out my punishment.

8

Stellan

My sunglasses were firmly on my face, my saxophone case in my hands, and my hair was hanging loosely around my shoulders with only enough pulled back that it wasn’t in my face. With the rest of the guys beside me, we walked into Clancy’s like we owned the place, and as cocky as it sounded, on the night we played…we did.

Mina had informed me that the crowd was nearly doubled on nights we played compared to others. When I pointed out that maybe it was a fluke and just a typical Saturday night, she shook her head and swore it was because of our following. That had pride swelling in my chest, knowing that me and the guys had a good thing going and hopefully the momentum would continue. But rather than worry about what could possibly happen, I would just enjoy the ride in the meantime.

“What’s with your hair?” Baylor asked as he sat behind the drum set and started fiddling with his sticks.

I shrugged. “Thought I’d try something different.”

What did it matter to them how I wore my hair? Down. Up. It was only hair, and it didn’t fucking matter how it was done. And there was no way in hell I was trying to look extra good that night for Foster. No way at all.

Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Stellan.

Weston cackled. “I call bullshit. You always say it gets in your way when you’re playing.”

“That’s why some of it is still pulled back,” I explained with a shrug, not letting their ribbing get to me.

“So you say. Who are you trying to impress?”

I didn’t say anything as I popped a reed in my mouth to moisten it. The guys took the cue that I wasn’t in the mood for their shit, so they started tinkering with their own instruments as I worked on getting mine put together. After deeming the reed wet enough, I lined it up to fit it properly into the mouthpiece before assembling the rest of my instrument. Once I made sure the ligature was tight enough to hold the reed in place, I put the strap around my neck and applied a small amount of grease on the neck so the cork could slide on easily. Finally, I twisted the entire mouthpiece into place and attached it to the neck strap.

“Are you finished?” Maverick asked.

“With what?” I queried as I tested different pitches to make sure it was tuned properly.

“Avoiding the conversation. Usually you’re quick to give us snarky one-liners, but this time you completely dodged the conversation.”

“Maybe I just didn’t care for what you guys had to say.”

I looked up to see Baylor, Weston, and Maverick all sharing a look.

“Damn, it’s worse than we thought,” Baylor whisper yelled.

“I wonder who it is. Could be a fan,” Weston chimed in.

“Maybe it’s someone who—”

“Enough,” I snapped. “We’re here to play, not gossip like a bunch of high schoolers.”

“Whoa. That bad, huh?” Baylor snickered, not dropping the subject.

I sighed and stole a glance at the man behind the bar. Thanks to my sunglasses, the other guys couldn’t follow my gaze, but once the lights dimmed, I’d have to take them off. And every time I saw him chatting up a customer, or saw a particular person lean too close, something inside me would rage, and I’d have to remind myself I didn’t have the right to get territorial.

He was nothing to me. Not even a friend. I was just the person who played at the bar where he worked, and who fixed his car. But maybe I could rectify that...

“Okay, enough guys. Are we ready?” Maverick asked.

Taking off my sunglasses, I clipped them onto my music stand. We all gave our affirmatives and