uniform. This time the shirt looked like it had once been black but had faded all the way to gray. And he wore the same worn-looking brown leather bracelet. He wore no other jewelry. He’d maybe finger-combed his hair, if that. He looked like he hadn’t properly shaved in days.
And he still could’ve strolled onto the set of a GQ photo shoot and no one would’ve kicked him out.
Was it fair for someone to be so naturally delicious?
“I brought my laptop and stuff. Not sure where you want me to set up…”
“Right. I’ll show you.” He started across the living room, but paused. “Did you sleep well? How is the poolhouse?”
“It’s adorable. And super comfortable. Can I just say I love your house? It’s really nice here.”
“Oh. Yeah.” He looked around like he was actually seeing the house for the first time in a long time. “Thanks.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“I bought it about six years ago. Just before my band went on tour.”
“Alive, right? Your last band.”
“Yeah.” He didn’t meet my eyes, still looking around the room like it belonged to someone else. “Pretty much spent every penny I’d made in my career to date on it. Luckily there was more money to come. I bought it cash, though, so no mortgage. And I guess it was a good purchase. It’s pretty much doubled in value since then.”
“Too bad. I guess it’s a little out of my budget, then. I’m thinking about saving up to buy myself a doghouse and live out by the train tracks on the industrial waterfront.”
He met my eyes, but he didn’t smile. He knew I was joking, right? “Well, if things work out here, you can stay in the poolhouse as long as you want.”
I didn’t touch that. His poolhouse was, sadly, nicer than any place I’d ever lived. I didn’t want to get too attached.
“I’m not trying to show off,” he said, suddenly looking uncomfortable. Like the other day, when I pressed him about the load of cash he’d dumped in my bank account. “I want you to feel at home.”
“Thank you.”
“Would you like the tour?”
“Please.”
“Shit,” he said, and I realized it had probably been a long time since he gave a tour of his home to anyone.
I smiled. For someone so bossy/irritable/awkward and easily horrified by a social blunder, he was pretty fucking cute. I probably shouldn’t be smiling about that, though.
“Here goes.” He led me out into the grand foyer, turning to face the big staircase that swept up to the second floor. There was an open landing up there with a super-high ceiling and a skylight, and a couple of hallways leading off. Partway up the stairs, the wall was decorated with a framed platinum album and a bunch of photos. “Upstairs,” he said simply, pointing.
I smiled again. “Right.”
“The garage is through there.” He pointed at a door to the side of the entrance behind us. “You just saw the living room. The studio is this way.” He pointed me to the side of the foyer opposite the garage, beyond the living room entrance, where a set of double doors were tucked back in an alcove. They stood open to a dim hallway.
And just like that, he led me right into the studio.
Huh. That was easy. I wasn’t even sure if I’d be allowed in here, much less immediately, on my very first day.
“Those are completely soundproofed,” he said, pointing back over his shoulder at the doors, “so if they’re closed and you knock, no one will hear you on the other side. The whole studio is soundproofed, for the most part. I had a lot of work done here when I moved in. This wall,” he tapped the wall on our right, “wasn’t here when I bought the place. This used to open right into the kitchen and dining room, on the other side.” We passed a closed door on the left, then reached an open door on the right. “This was a small den/office situation. Now it’s the studio control room and my office.”
I followed him inside. There was a large control panel with about a zillion knobs and buttons on the left, like I’d seen in music studios in movies and stuff. Above it, a large window looked out into the rest of the studio. There was also another window on the exterior wall in front of us, but the shades were closed. Beneath it was a desk with stuff all over it—several laptops and paperwork—and