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“Um...no. Never.” I chuckled and stared into my glass. “We’re just best friends. I had a serious boyfriend. Past tense. But not looking for a new one.”

“Me either.” She glided her hand up my arm and over my shoulder, then draped it across the back of my chair. Her lips hovered dangerously close to my ear as she pointed across the VIP area. “But a hookup could be fun. There are four guys over at that table eye-fucking you.”

Dragging my gaze away from her, I glanced across the floor toward the same men Slip had pointed out earlier.

I nudged her side gently. “They could be checking out you.” She was the superstar. Hell, I’d even checked her out and I wasn’t into women.

“Nope.” Her laugh sent a current rippling across my skin. Shit. I liked that when I shouldn’t. She jabbed her finger against my bicep. “Definitely you. You should ask one of them to dance.”

“Is that a dare?” But I was at a table. In a VIP section. Having a drink with Tia Fucking Tanner! I didn’t want to leave.

“Yes.”

Our eyes met. Every time I looked at her, the wires in my brain scrambled to make sense of the something-but-nothing hovering in the air. Confusion was all that remained.

I wanted to spend the night talking to her, laughing, and making dirty jokes.

I wanted to touch her soft skin. Drink in her intoxicating perfume. Stay right where I was.

Why? What is with that?

I’d been through a lot of shit in my life, numerous ups and downs, but this was unchartered territory. I didn’t understand it and didn’t want to.

I’d never been into women.

Not ever.

I wasn’t about to change.

With the opportunity to play with The Flintlocks on the line, I wasn’t going to fuck up my chances. I needed to focus on music, not Tia. I’d had too much to drink. It had been too long since I’d had sex. I needed space to clear my head.

I forced myself to look away from Tia and glanced toward the men. They were an excuse to escape. I’d go over, have a drink and a chat. Yep. That was a plan. Tia had Sutton and Flint to talk to once they came up for air.

I gave Tia an okay-I’m-game nod. “They’re all even on the looks scale. Who do you think I should ask to dance?”

She rubbed my back. “The one in the red shirt. He’s got a Ryan Gosling vibe.”

Shame it isn’t the real Ryan. I’d do him in a nanosecond. “Okay.” I downed the last mouthful of my bourbon then placed the glass on the table. As I stood, I combed my fingers through my hair, then straightened my collar. “Wish me luck.”

She swatted the air. “You won’t need it.”

I took a step toward the guys but stopped. I looked back over my shoulder at Tia and pasted on a devilish grin. “Are you going to watch?”

“Oh, yeah. You fucking bet.”

Shit. What hell had I landed in?

Chapter 5

TIA

Three cups of coffee by nine in the morning hadn’t erased the dull hangover from last night. It’d been the first time I’d been out partying since my accident. Now I was paying the price. Too much dancing had exacerbated the pain in my ankle. I should’ve known not to overdo it. Shouldn’t have gone out. But being with Cole and the guys again, and drinking alcohol combined with painkillers, had made me temporarily forget about my injuries. So had meeting Lewis.

I hadn’t had that much fun bantering and making jokes in months. Each teasing nudge of his arm or leg against mine, each touch of his hand and sexy glance my way, had been hot enough to melt my panties. My body temperature still hadn’t returned to normal. But to think there was something more between us would be foolish. Downright stupid. I’d wasted enough years of my life being with men who’d claimed to adore me only to be tossed aside for something or someone they’d loved more than me. I wasn’t about to waste another second with a guy who wasn’t even into women to begin with.

With no plans for the day, I tagged along with Cole to Flint’s house to listen to the tracks for their album. I couldn’t wait to hear the demos they’d been working on.

Carrying a takeout tray of steaming coffees, I shuffled along behind Cole and Slip toward Flint’s music studio. Slip opened the door, and we stepped inside. The stench of masculine sweat, deodorant, and aftershave hit me like a karate kick. The sight of Phil’s bass mounted on the far wall nearly dropped me to the floor. God, I missed him. It felt like a lifetime had passed since I’d been there at the beginning of the year. The huge room, decked out with band equipment at one end, and two sofas and a matching chair at the other, could be mistaken for a live recording studio, not just a rehearsal space.