and arrange temporary ones for the label’s launch events. I have a contract to care for the plants at his penthouse too.”
“You like plants?”
“Yes, I do. That’s what I meant about new. I like planting seeds, watching them grow into something beautiful that wouldn’t have existed without my care.”
Giving them the right amount of sunlight, water, and nutrients yielded a certain predictable result. I liked feeling that I made a difference, and that I had control over something in my life.
“I like plants too,” he said. “Reminds me of . . . well, you’re right about the taking care of something. Easier, more predictable results with plants than people, for sure.”
“What about you?” I asked, breathless from questions that felt pointed, like an interrogation. “Where are your parents?”
A mask slammed down over his features, one made of impenetrable steel. “I’m not close with my parents.”
“Not close because they live far away, or because you choose to be distant from them?” I put the question out there and braced, expecting him not to answer.
“Both.” His teeth were clenched so tight, a muscle jumped in his jaw. “I don’t have any contact with my family at all.”
“Oh.” My eyes filled. “That’s sad.” It was hard to imagine choosing not to be with your family if you had them, and they wanted to be with you.
“In my situation, it’s for the best for everyone involved.” His grip tightened on the steering wheel, and I wondered if what he said was true.
“What do you do in your spare time?” I asked to change the subject.
“Work, surf, band practice.”
“Work with your guitar?” I’d already seen the surfboard and realized he had a hobby that matched mine.
He nodded. “I do a lot of studio stuff. It pays pretty well.”
“Studio stuff for Ash?” I asked, wondering why I’d never seen Journey at Outside before.
“Not him, no. But people he knows. That’s how the Skulls got added to the lineup tonight.”
“Ah.” My eyes widened. It really was who you knew. In music, like most things.
“Ah, as in that’s good?” His brows rose. “Or—”
“Good. Ash is picky. Your band is good. Your voice is compelling, and you’re amazing on lead guitar.”
“Thank you.” His voice went the type of low that made me imagine intimate things. “But Black Skulls isn’t my band. It’s Reese’s. I’m not a full-time member, just filling in for their regular guy.”
“Where is their regular guitarist?”
“Dirt-bike accident. Broke his wrist.”
“That sucks.”
“It did for him, but it’s good for me.” Journey flicked on his blinker again, following the sedan. “I needed the extra cash, and I met you.”
Whoa. I glanced at him, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring straight ahead, though the road was surprisingly empty. Was he avoiding my gaze like I’d been avoiding his earlier?
His hair was secured like mine. Medium length, there was only a thick club of it at his nape, but a couple of wavy spirals had escaped.
Suddenly, I yearned to reach out and touch one. Was his hair as silky and soft as it appeared to be? What about his mustache? His beard? How would those feel against my naked skin? Thinking those thoughts, I started feeling like a hot and melty puddle again.
“Noticed you right away in the audience.”
“Huh?” Lost in thoughts of him and me and tangled sheets, I suddenly had difficulty following the conversation.
“Even in the catering uniform, you were impossible to miss.”
Journey turned to glance at me, and I knew my mouth was hanging open. It wasn’t that I was unaccustomed to guys saying flattering stuff to me. I got hit on all the time at the bar, knowing that it was just words. It didn’t mean anything.
But I could see that the opposite was true with him. Those earth-brown eyes of his with enticing flecks of green drilled his truth into me.
“I thought you didn’t like me,” I said, remembering. “You frowned at first, then you avoided looking at me.”
His lips curved. “To be honest, looking at you made it impossible to concentrate. I didn’t want to fuck up with the guys in the band, or in front of all the industry types hanging around.”
“Music’s important to you?”
“It’s everything to me.” His reply was immediate and unwavering.
“I knew a guy like that once,” I said somberly. “Music was everything to him too.”
“Once?”
Looking out the window, I shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”
“What happened to him?” he asked softly.
I sighed. “He went away and never came back.”
“Did that upset you?”
Journey pulled in a