Play With Me - Brittany Cournoyer Page 0,4

Weston, our bass player.

“What can I get for you?” she asked.

“Just a bottle of water,” I answered, tearing my eyes from the man.

She turned around to grab the bottle from the mini fridge under the shelf and hand it to me. “I figured as much, but I always have to ask.”

“I appreciate it,” I told her before uncapping the bottle and tipping it to my lips to take a long drink.

Band members got free drinks, so I didn’t bother paying her, but I did reach into my pocket to pull out a bill and toss it into the tip jar.

“Thanks,” she said as she tracked my movements. “He’ll appreciate it, I’m sure.”

I followed her line-of-sight to the guy who was chatting away with Weston.

“How’s his training going?” I heard myself ask.

Not that I should’ve cared. But at least me chatting up the bartender got Boundaries Breaker to move on to her next prey. I snorted when I looked and saw her over with our drummer, Baylor. At least with him she’d have a shot. He loved bedding any woman who blinked in his direction. Poor woman, she had no idea what she was in for. Or maybe she did. It wasn’t my business.

“How do you know he’s training?”

I shrugged. “The deer-in-headlights look kind of gave him away.”

“Ah, yes. I remember that look well, and I’ve even worn it a time or two,” she confided with a wink. “But it’s going fine. Foster’s a fast learner.”

Foster. The name danced through my mind, and I wanted to say it out loud to see how it felt rolling off my tongue, as well. But another person stepped up beside me and caught the bartender’s attention. So, I turned away and looked for an empty seat. Thankfully, there was one near the other end of the bar, but that meant passing by Foster, who was busy pulling a beer from the tap.

I wanted to stare at him as I moved past, but I kept my head down, only allowing myself the tiniest glance. His lips were plump and turned down in a frown. His eyes were furrowed in deep concentration, and a lock of hair fell in front of his eyes. Much like my fingers twitched to play the keys of my sax, they itched to reach over the bar and push the hair from his face.

I gave myself a mental shake as I sat down on the stool. Foster was just the bartender and nothing else. For all I knew, he was straight, or even had a significant other waiting for him at home. Having fantasies about his hair or any other body part were out of the question. But wouldn’t you know it? The seat I’d chosen gave me the perfect view of not only his front, but also his back. Either I was the luckiest man in the bar, or the one Lady Luck had it out for.

“Your solo was amazing,” someone gushed beside me.

“Thank you,” I said, ripping my gaze from the man behind the bar and turning to who was talking to me.

It was another beautiful woman, however this one wore a dress that was soft yellow and fell just below the knee. It was loose and flowy, more like something worn to a picnic than a jazz bar. But the way she bit her lip and the uncertainty in her eye suggested this was her first time in here.

When I fixed my gaze on hers, she ripped hers from mine to glance at a table toward the right. I couldn’t help but follow her movement and saw a table filled with a group of young women giving her shooing motions and thumbs up of encouragement.

Ah, I knew what was going on here, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop the smirk that tried to form on my face. Her friends obviously talked her into approaching me, and she’d finally gathered up the guts to do it. Well, kudos to her, and while she had a wholesome, natural beauty, I hated the idea of having to let her down.

“I just love the saxophone.”

“Me too. That’s why I play it.”

“And you do it so well. The way your body moved as you played. It was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.” Her voice dropped down to almost a croak on the word sexy. Poor thing, she was trying, but I could tell flirting wasn’t her forte.

“Well, I just move with the music,” I told her.

It