Page 21 of Midnight Dissonance

No, this is where we begin, Lexi.

Gah!

Why had he put that into her head? It had played on a recorded loop all damn week. And then there was his little stunt the other day, showing up at her work and conning her into getting her phone number.

The man had sent her a few texts over the last forty-eight hours. Things like: Call me. We need to talk. You’re acting like a spoiled brat in need of a spanking.

And it was so fucking wrong, but she couldn’t help imagining that big hand of his whacking her butt with the memory of the one swat he had landed at the singles night fresh in her mind. Lexi had masturbated to the fantasy.

And it made her feel like a total headcase.

On the one hand, the little devil on her shoulder told her she should just do it. Then he would swagger back to the club and leave her alone. Because he couldn’t possibly be interested in anything other than getting in her pants.

But on the other, the guardian angel on her other shoulder told her to avoid him. She had a music career that needed all her energy to succeed. And she shouldn’t invite another player into her life simply because his attention felt like warm sunlight on her face. Or because his kiss melted her brain.

And yet, for the past two days, she caught herself staring off into space, thinking about him and grinning. She was talking full-on cheesy smile like she won the lottery. However, there wasn’t much else for her to think about while she was making lattes and pouring coffee. It was the only explanation she could come up with that didn’t freak her out for why she kept thinking about him.

She didn’t even like him. He was overbearing, cocky, and far too damn sexy for his own good.

But she had to lower herself and text him back. He had her guitar. She’d been so frazzled after the kiss with his possessive comment that she’d climbed out of his car without thinking about it.

If she could afford to buy a new guitar, she would if it meant not seeing him again. She didn’t understand his sudden interest. Why would he kiss her and tell her they weren’t done?

Lexi battled against the part of herself that wanted to see him again. The man kissed her with a salacious devotion that was utterly devastating. She’d never had a man kiss her and leave her wanting more.

She wiped down the counters. The lunch rush was over, and she only had an hour left on her shift. She had to decide what to do about the guitar. Cliff had an extra guitar she could use at their gig tonight.

But it wasn’t her guitar.

Instruments were personal, like a bra. A musician had to find the one that fit them, not the other way around. And she adored her guitar. It was an extension of herself on stage. And she missed it terribly. She didn’t want to play tonight without it. Which meant she had to buck up and use her buddy’s extra guitar, or she had to respond to Josh.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Think of the devil, and he texted. She saved his number under the name Mister Stick Up His Ass.

They weren’t supposed to have their phones on them while they worked, but given the state of the world, she wouldn’t go without it. And Dillon was cool about it. She grabbed the phone from her pocket.

Josh: We need to meet up. I’ve got your guitar. And I know you’re playing tonight.

Lexi: I was wondering if I was going to hear from you. Where can we meet up?

Josh: Are you playing at the Jukebox tonight?

Lexi: Yes. We go on at ten.

Why the hell did she tell him that? Did she want to see him at the show? Of course she didn’t. It’s preposterous to even think that way. But a part of her did. A part of her wanted to see if they still had this live-wire connection.

Josh: What time are you planning to arrive?

Lexi: Eight-thirty.

Josh: I’ll meet you there.

Lexi: Fine.

What more could she say? She slid her phone in her back pocket when she felt someone at the counter, then turned on a smile even with the trepidation swirling through her. She wanted to see him again, but she didn’t. She was so confused.

He was a player. And yet, he had taken an interest in her with his whole we’re not done yet blather. What did he even mean by it?

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