Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 93957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Sure, it had started with sex and a side excuse of teaching a guitar lesson or two, but something had changed. The sex was hotter than ever, guitar lessons had become a biweekly thing, and Sean Gruen had become my friend. We hung out together by ourselves when the kids were with their mom. We definitely had sex…and a lot of it. But sometimes we just made dinner and watched movies. And we talked.
I’d tell him about my day in the studio. The songs we’d worked on, the pranks we played on each other, our new prerecording practice schedule, and whatever I could remember about Charlie’s social media campaign…which wasn’t much. Concentrating on music and letting Charlie deal with publicity was the only way to stay sane and focused. So I focused on music…and my lover.
Sean’s life was so different from mine. He was grounded in a world I’d never been part of. I didn’t know anything about family dynamics, car pools, after-school activities, mergers and acquisitions, or handling employee turnover. His effortless take-charge manner fascinated me. How could anyone balance all those varied facets of life without going crazy?
“I am crazy,” Sean assured me with a sardonic grin.
I ran my fingers through the condensation on my glass, scanning the Wednesday after-work crowd at The Zebra Den and tapping my fingers to the beat of an ancient Stevie Wonder song. I could hardly see two feet in front of me from our corner of the bar. Poor lighting and bad acoustics were part of this dive’s charm. Dark shadowy areas made it possible for Zero and Jealousy to hang out after practice without drawing unwanted attention. My friends had gone home a while ago, so tonight it was a great place to meet my secret booty call before he picked up his kids for the weekend.
The last part of that sentence freaked me out a little. I was seeing an older man with kids. Weird. I brushed the thought aside and studied his handsome profile in the dim light. The creases at the corner of his eyes added an element of sophistication and wisdom I found unexpectedly sexy. I couldn’t figure out why someone like him would be interested in a punk like me.
“You must be,” I agreed, shifting on my barstool to face him.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m curious about a couple of things.”
“Like?” he prodded.
“When I first met you…when you were going out with Tegan, you were bald. Why?”
Sean squinted at me in the darkness. “That’s what you wonder about?”
I shrugged with faux nonchalance. “It doesn’t keep me up at night, but yeah…I’m curious.”
“My sister lost her hair when she had cancer. I shaved my head as a show of solidarity,” he explained, rubbing his hand over his short-cropped hair.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Is she okay?”
“Yes, she kicked butt and she’s stronger than ever.”
“You must be close,” I commented, taking a sip of beer.
“We are. She was a staunch advocate for me while I was going through my divorce and when I came out. Shaving my head was the very least I could do.”
“Mmm. Do you see her often?”
“No, she moved to Northern California with her husband three years ago. I’m trying to convince them to meet me in Palm Springs next month for a little R and R.” Sean fixated on my mouth for a beat before continuing, “When was the last time you went to the desert?”
“Me? Um…I can’t remember. It was pre-Zero, though. I was in a band called The Crackens. The lead singer’s grandparents lived in Palm Springs. They were friendly with one of the hotel owners and got us a gig playing in the bar once a month. Not one of my more prestigious jobs, but it was a good experience.”
“The Crackens? Was that someone’s last name?”
I snort-laughed. “No, it’s slang. The lead singer—I think his name was Chad—made a comment about the bassist’s ass crack showing when he bent over. He said something like, ‘Your ass is crackin’, and our twenty-year-old selves thought that was pretty fuckin’ hysterical. We may have been drunk.”
“Sounds like it,” Sean chuckled. “You should come with me. I have a nice place there on the golf course. Very private and the weather is perfect this time of year. What do you say?”
I sobered immediately. My smile dipped, then disappeared altogether. “Uh, why?”
Sean cocked his head. “I like you. That’s why.”
“But…why do you like me? You and I don’t make any sense,” I argued, swigging my drink and setting the glass down with more force than necessary.
“Maybe I just like your crackin’ ass.”
I almost sprayed the bar with beer. I coughed, shaking my head in mock censure. “Oh, wow. That was bad. Crackin’ ass is not a thing. At the very least, it doesn’t sound like a good thing.”