Page 50 of Tortured Tones

“Maybe you’ve already met her.” He tickled Charlotte on the tummy. She giggled and threw me a big smile, her mouth covered in sauce. She wasn’t making it easy on me. Nor was Flint. “You hated your parents not being around. So, don’t be a dick, and make sure you spend time with her.”

“I do. I see her for an hour or two each morning. It’s the only free time I have.” That was more time than my parents had spent with me each day during my childhood years.

But was it enough?

Ergh! This was doing my head in.

I needed another drink, more food, and a hell session on the drums to hammer out the knots in my system.

Flint was wrong.

I could look after Charlotte and keep my current workload and schedule. Nothing had to give. I could go out. Party. Be with women. Come home to my kid. Easy.

Charlotte would be fine.

So would I.

Tomorrow night we had a function to attend. Perfect!

I needed a night out.

I needed to get laid.

I needed a stiff drink.

I had everything under control.

Chapter 12

AVA

For four nights in a row, Cole and the band went out after rehearsing—to a movie premiere, to a charity dinner, to a club and a bar just to party and be seen.

The guys didn’t stop.

I didn’t know whether to be in awe of their stamina or worried that they’d collapse with fatigue. These guys seemed to burn the candle at both ends harder than my other clients in the past.

By the end of three days straight, I was grateful for a night off, rotating my shift with my fellow team member, Kennedy.

But after a day’s rest, I was back on duty.

On Monday, as the band ran through their tour set list, I stood at the side of the stage. Cole pounded on the drums, and for a few minutes, I stopped counting down the days until I saw Josh again. Every strike Cole made flowed with smooth style and gallant grace. Every thudding beat hit the center of my chest. The other guys were under his complete control, conforming to his rhythm and pace. As his body dripped with sweat and every sinewy muscle and vein bulged in his arms, his focus didn’t falter...except maybe for a split second when he stole a glance at me. He winked and the space between my thighs clenched. Fuck. That wasn’t good.

Beckett stepped in beside me, holding out his packet of peanut M&M’s, his favorite afternoon break snack. “So...Cole, huh?”

My breath snagged against my ribs. As I took a green M&M—one wouldn’t hurt while on duty—I drew my shoulders back, not breaking my poker face. “What about him?”

“Come on, Ava.” He tipped the last five M&Ms into his hand, picking out the sole green one for me. “We’ve worked together for two years on gig after gig. He’s the first guy who’s had you flustered.”

“I’m not flustered.” I popped the candy into my mouth, then crunched on the chocolate-coated nut.

“You so are.” He tucked the empty packet into his jacket pocket. “Your cheeks are flushed. You keep fidgeting with your hair. You can’t take your eyes off him.” He stuffed the M&Ms into his mouth, smiled brightly, and munched away.

Beckett was wrong. I wasn’t into Cole. I wanted to murder him most of the time. He was easy on the eye and not as arrogant and cocky as I’d first thought. Without a doubt, he was emotionally messed up, like most people were, and he had a lot to learn about how to take care of Charlotte. But why my pulse jumped a fraction every time he looked at me did my head in. It was wrong and stupid, and had to stop. “He’s just ...nice to watch.”

“Maybe. But you’re my best friend. I’m looking out for you. Please don’t do anything foolish.”

“He’s my client. I know the rules.” Wells would kick anyone off this assignment in a heartbeat if we got involved with a client. Personal involvement clouded judgment, was a distraction, and put the team at risk. I’d never do that.

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