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I waited all weekend for her text. All fucking weekend. Then I’d convinced myself that it’d been some sort of wild dream and I’d never see her again.

But here she was. Texting me on a Monday morning, asking me for sex club recommendations.

“Everything alright, man?” Eric asked.

“Yeah,” I said quickly.

I’d forgotten about them the moment her text came through. Jack was fucking around on his bass, the deep notes bouncing through the garage. We were still waiting on Tyler to get here, which would probably be another thirty minutes. He was usually late on Mondays.

“Did anything ever come from those suits at Beaumont’s last Friday?” Jack asked.

Fuck. I needed to stop thinking about her. I turned to look at them, putting my phone in my back pocket. “Well, I have a meeting this Friday with Rosethorn.”

“Hell yeah,” Eric beamed. “That’s great. I’ve heard good things about them.”

“Mostly good things,” Jack snorted. “They treat their artists well but they’re notoriously hard to get signed with. Their CEO is a bitch.”

My nostrils flared. “I met the CEO, and she was nice.”

His brows shot up. “Really? I’ve met her before in passing. I was a replacement for one of their artists. Their bass player was sick so I got a call for the gig. She was cold.”

That was the thing. Pepperwascold.

Except not with me.

“She made one of the sound guys cry.” He laughed. “A big burly dude too. I don’t know. She’s a bitch. The whole industry knows that.”

“Is she a bitch or is she just good at her job?” I snapped.

Jack held up his hands. “Look, man. I don’t know. I’m just telling you what I’ve heard. I’m a feminist.”

Damn. Maybe I needed a new bass player.

He continued before I said anything else. “But maybe you’ll have good luck.”

“Maybe,” I muttered.

I needed to get the fuck out of the garage before I blew up on him.

I throttled the chord I was playing and lifted my guitar, setting it down on the stand. “I’m going to go get some water and something to eat. Do either of you want anything?”

“I’ll take a water,” Eric said.

“I’m good. I’m going to fuck around for a bit,” Jack said, his attention returning to his bass.

I darted through the door that led into the house. The moment I shut it behind me, I pulled my phone from my pocket and texted Pepper back.

No hi? How are you, Salt? Good morning???

Bubbles appeared and then disappeared. I narrowed my eyes as I waited, growing impatient.

Why do you want to go to a BDSM club?

I’m looking for a Dom.

I blinked. Slowly. My heart quickened as I shook my head.

You already have a Dom.

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