Page 115 of Don't Bang a Bandmate

“Jordan Peck.”

“Christian—”

“Will you be my manager?”

I stare blankly at him. “Your manager?”

“This isn’t public yet, but I’ve been offered an amazing contract with Sugar Sound,” he says.

My stomach drops.

“Sugar Sound,” I mutter.

“It’s even better than anything Midnite Music ever offered me before,” he continues, balanced on his knee. “All that’s missing is the perfect partner to share it all with me.” He smiles. “All that’s missing isyou.”

“Christian,” I say, calmly easing a step back. “I’m with Criminal Records.”

“For now, sure.” He chuckles. “We both know they don’t deserve you.”

“And you do?”

With eyes full of stars, Christian Myers smiles. “I’m willing to spend the rest of my life proving I do.”

Uh... huh.

He pulls himself up to stand. “And call me crazy...”

“Oh, I might,” I say.

“But I think the two of us can create more than just music together,” he says, still gazing. Still... yeah. “I want you, Jordan Peck. I want all of you.”

I glance down the path, somewhat tempted to flag down one of the myriad cars passing by. “I...”

“Don’t—” Christian juts forward. “Don’t give me an answer tonight,” he says sweetly. “Tell me over breakfast in bed tomorrow morning.”

There was a time when that line would have sent me reeling.

There was a time when I would have done anything for Christian Myers.

But that time has passed.

This time has Paul Monroe’s stank all over it.

I’m such an idiot.

I take a step toward him, purposefully tilting my face upward, but I don’t give him the kiss he so desperately wants. I smile instead.

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Okay?” he repeats, hopeful.

“Tomorrow morning. You’ll have my answer.”

Christian grins, his fingers slowly coming to my cheek once again. He caresses along my chin, sending tender tickles down my throat that... end as quickly as they begin.

“Come on,” I say, stepping back before he can kiss me again. “Let’s go meet up with the others.”

I offer him my hand and he takes it with a victorious smile.

---