Page 46 of Fractured Rhythm

“I can’t believe the entire band is showing up at a dive bar with no VIP section. They could get mobbed,” Holly said.

I laughed. “Jax will have a disguise, just you wait, and Bash was never recognized when he was here before.” It was probably the dark hair. I missed his old hair. He looked different with short, inky black hair and minimal scruff.

Then I remembered that scruff fondly on my thighs and heat rushed through my body.

Do. Not. Think. About. His. Scruff. On. Your. Thighs.

“Really? What does he wear? A mask or a wig?” she asked as we walked into the bar, and I was grateful that she wasn’t looking at me. She would’ve called me out on the spot.

I scanned the room, instantly spotting Jax and the rest of the guys.

“Is he for real?” Holly asked, shaking her head.

“Always,” I said.

Gone were the long brown waves, now tucked under the brash red mullet wig. Jax’s standard leather pants had been replaced with pale blue jeans and a denim vest. His nose looked different, too. A prosthetic, probably.

Tristan and Bash were blending in fine in jeans and dark t-shirts. The gray t-shirt on Bash stretched across his shoulders perfectly, and I knew without dropping my gaze that his jeans molded and cupped his body like they’d been made for him.

“I thought he didn’t want to stand out,” Holly said as she waved at them and we walked over. “Also, you have a little drool here,” she said, gesturing to my mouth before she started laughing. “Please take that man home with you tonight.”

“Jax always wants to stand out. He just doesn’t want to be recognized all the time,” I said, ignoring the rest of her comment. I would not be taking Bash home tonight or any night in the foreseeable future. It was safer that way.

“You made it,” Jax said, giving me a big hug.

“Nice nose, Jax,” I said.

He turned his head from side to side. “You like it? They think it’s over the top,” he said, tilting his head toward Bash and Tristan.

“Because it is, you idiot,” Bash said, tugging me out of Jax’s arms to hug me.

I swear I didn’t sigh when I sank into him.

I. Swear.

I also didn’t squirm away because it felt so damn good to hug him.

“You two kissed and made up, I take it?” Jax goaded, and I willed away my blush as I faced him.

“Why do you constantly have to start shit?” I asked.

“Because that’s my thing, obviously. Hey, I’m just glad you two are talking again,” he said with a shrug. He’d dropped it easily, very un-Jax like.

Then I caught Bash glaring at his bandmate.

“I hug my friends. Bash and I had a nice talk the other night, and there’s no more tension, okay,” I said.

It was so much more than that, but my heart could only focus on friendship with Bash—at least that’s what I was telling myself.

“About damn time,” Jax said, and I ignored him, relishing in Bash’s heat wrapped around me, and in his soft sigh when he tightened his hold on me and I didn’t pull away.

We could be friends, right?

But as I asked myself the question, I knew I was full of shit.

“Glad to hear it,” Tristan said, holding out his arms for me to hug him. He always could read the room better than anyone. He gave me a quick hug as they all greeted Holly.

“Of all the places you could’ve picked, why this bar?” Holly asked after we grabbed drinks and found a small table in the corner.

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