Page 11 of Fractured Frets

I bit my lower lip to contain my smile, but failed. “Breakups are never fun.” Is he hitting on me? What would making out with Slip be like? Are his lips as soft as they look? Do they taste of vodka? How hot would his tongue be? Heat meandered over my skin. It took all my willpower to turn away. I swallowed another shot to kill the thoughts taunting my mind. “I’ve never gotten back together with anyone after calling it quits.”

“No. Me either.” He reached for his glass of water and took a swig. “I suck at relationships. I’m just out to have fun and more than happy to stay single.”

“Same.” Single was for the best. No heartache. No betrayal. No mess. “It’s the only way to be.” I was too much of a raging mess to contemplate a relationship with anyone ever again.

But he made it impossible to focus on anything but him. Why did he have to be good-looking and nice? He was so different from any other guy I was normally attracted to. I usually went for clean-cut guys, but Slip was all rough and unruly. Long-haired. Tattooed. Mysterious. And I was fully aware of his reputation.

Was I someone he’d hook up with? Shit. Don’t go there.

The sooner this night was over, the better.

As we munched on the hot fries Cole had ordered, Slip filled me in on his band’s steady progress of writing new music, and their plans to find a new bassist and record in the new year. I rattled on about my show’s new season. Working on Vancouver Heights, a TV series that centered around lawyers fighting to reach partner status, never left me with a dull moment on or off the screen. Half my attention was on Sutton, making sure she was okay as fans flitted around her and Flint. But there was no need to worry. Her smile looked permanently set in place.

Near midnight, Flint ambled over and patted Slip on the shoulder. “The rest of the night is yours. Sutt and I are outta here.”

“Pussy power, huh?” Slip chuckled at Sutton who blushed like an innocent angel. She was, and I loved her for it.

Flint whispered something to Slip, but I couldn’t hear what he said. Concern drifted across Slip’s eyes. With a shake of his head, it was gone, and his gorgeous smile returned.

I hugged Sutton goodbye. “Love you. Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Mads, I wouldn’t do half the things you do. But I love you. And thank you for tonight. For everything.” She stepped back and hooked her arm around Flint’s waist. Then she winked at me as she angled her head toward Slip. “Be careful with this one.”

“We’re just friends.” I jerked my chin backward. What was she getting at?

“O-kay,” she said. I knew that tone. The tone that said I don’t believe you. But she was wrong. Right? Giggling, she rubbed my arms. “Night. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Night.” Twinkling my fingers, I waved goodbye.

After they left and Cole had hooked up with some girl, Slip placed his wrists on the bar table and fidgeted with his leather bracelets. The crowd had thinned. No one stood hovering around our table anymore. It was just the two of us. As I glanced at him, the hairs on my arms tingled. There was no denying there was a spark between us. As long as it didn’t ignite, everything would be okay.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Slip’s foot jiggled on the stool rest at a million miles an hour. “I promised Flint I’d get you home safely.”

I loved that he suddenly seemed nervous. Awkward. Going by the sway in my stomach, I was too. But I didn’t want him to suffer. “I don’t need a chaperone.”

“No, but I don’t like to break any promises.”

Is getting a lift a good idea? Yes . . . no . . . maybe. Shit, it’s only a ride.

“Okay. Just home.” Despite my wicked thoughts of things I’d like to do to him, I didn’t want to screw this up. Friends were all we could ever be. “There’ll be no invite inside for coffee...oranything else.”

“I do love coffee...” Crinkles formed at the corner of his eyes as he bobbed his head once. “But I’ll be a gentleman. I swear.”

I wouldn’t mind if he didn’t want to be chivalrous.

No. Stop. Panties stay on.

What is wrong with me?

Other than everything.

But during the drive home in his Camaro, Slip tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. He stole sideways glances at me. The current in the air hummed like a high-tension power line loaded with maximum voltage.

At my house in Sherman Oaks, Slip opened the car door for me and walked me onto the porch. I unlocked the front door and turned to him. My heart beat way too fast. Too many butterflies dipped and darted in my stomach. Why was saying goodnight so difficult? “Um...thanks for the lift.”

“No worries.” He stuffed his hands into the front pocket of his jeans. “I hope you liked the show.”

“I did. You guys were awesome.”

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