Page 70 of Rock Bottom

“You’re not nobody.” Dante’s hand closed over mine. He threaded our fingers together and squeezed. “Not to me.”

“We barely know each other, Dante.”

“We can get to know each other. It’s not like I don’t have my own private jet. I can fly out here to see you, and you can come visit me. Hell, if you wanted, I could probably get you a spot on my security team.”

I frowned and let go of his hand.

“You don’t want to quit,” Dante said.

“The Junkyard Dogs are my brothers, Dante. I love my job. And you love yours.” I looked over at him. He was back to peering out the window again. “I just don’t see how this can work.”

God, I’m pathetic. I’ve known him for weeks. It’s a little soon to be talking about any of this, let alone considering leaving a job I love to be with him.

But that was exactly what I was imagining looking over at him. I imagined a future where it did work out, where we held hands all the time, and had tea in the afternoons. We could travel—together—all over the world. Maybe I’d never be able to sit through one of his concerts in the audience, but maybe from backstage, it wouldn’t be too bad. I imagined him coming off the stage after a long performance, exhausted and sweaty from playing for thousands, and getting to see that private smile he had only for me.

I’d never looked at anyone and thought, This is who I want forever, but I was thinking about it now. It felt too soon, too fast, but maybe…Maybe sometimes, you just know.

We turned into the driveway, pulling to a stop behind Bowie’s truck. Bowie got out of the truck, keys in hand, and went into the house. I let him check the place out while we waited for him to give us the all clear.

“I know you probably think this is just some fling for me,” Dante said, fidgeting with his fingers. “And maybe it started out that way, but…I don’t know. I really like you, Church, and I feel like this could be the start of something more. And I want more. I know you can’t see how it’ll work, but maybe…”

“Maybe what?” I leaned forward, pleading that he had an answer. I’d take anything.

Bowie came out and gestured that it was safe inside. Dante smiled at me apologetically and got out of the Tahoe without answering. He trudged up the stairs to the porch, where he paused on the porch to give me a strange look before backing through the door.

“You should go with him,” Bowie said when I got out. “That was definitely a come fuck me look.”

“We’re not—”

“Oh, bullshit.” He rolled his eyes. “I might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I ain’t dumb. You like him. He likes you.”

I sighed and leaned against the front of my SUV. “Doesn’t matter, does it? He’s still a client, and he’s got his own life to get back to. In a few weeks, he’ll have forgotten all about me.”

“So?” Bowie crossed his arms and shrugged.

I stared at him. “So I want more than a few weeks of sex.”

“Is it good sex?”

“I’m not talking about this with you.” I waved him off and started walking toward the cabin.

Bowie was quickly in my way, walking backwards. He put his hands out to stop me. “Okay, but seriously… Sometimes more starts with a few weeks of good sex. The only way to know is to give it a chance, which you aren’t doing. You’re shootin’ the bull before he ever gets out of the pen, and that ain’t fair. To either of you.”

“Why should I take relationship advice from you? Have you even ever had a serious romantic relationship, Bowie?”

He lifted his hat and glanced away. “Let’s just say I know enough to have regrets. Give him a chance. Just ‘cause you can’t see where the road comes out on the other side of the mountain doesn’t mean it’s not worth the drive to find out.”

I laced my fingers together behind my head and paced back and forth. “Not that it matters. If Boone finds out…”

“Like he has any right to bitch about someone falling for a client,” Bowie said with a snort. “He married his last job. Besides, he can’t fire you if he don’t catch you.”

“And how’s that supposed to work? After what happened, he’s never going to leave me alone with Dante again. He sent you to babysit, and all we’re doing is packing.”

“All you need is a good wingman to watch the door.” He pointed both thumbs at his chest. “I got you, bro.”

“But…”

“Brother, I said I got this.” Bowie adjusted his hat before clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Now, do yourself a favor and go hit that.”

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