Page 156 of Play Dirty (Brooklyn Dawn 1)

I nodded. “Will. We’re not close. I’m not really close to anyone in my family. They don’t exactly approve of the Park Slope Yorks being sullied by my dabble in rock n’ roll.”

“Dabble? You’ve been performing for, what? Over five years?”

I nodded. “Yeah.” I scooped up enough guac to break my chip. “Keeping track of me?”

He shrugged. “Hard not to notice. When we did the first festival in Winchester Falls, I couldn’t keep my eyes off you, duchess.” He reached across the table and thumbed off a little excess guac then brought it to his lips. “And then I couldn’t ignore you, no matter how much I wanted to.”

I took a deep pull on my lemonade. I needed the cool tartness to combat those memories. Between the festivals with Logan and that night in Ruin, there was a lot of history between us. Not all of it good.

I picked at a bit of chipotle chicken on my plate. “Do you think about that night?”

“Which one?”

I lifted my gaze. “You know which one.”

“Even if I could forget, you sending me your new version of ‘Dream On’ certainly brought all those memories back and then some.”

“You did watch it?”

“Every goddamn night, duchess.” He balled up his napkin and tossed it on his plate. “You good?”

I nodded.

Nearly ten years in New York had lessoned some of his accent, but when it was rough and heavy like that, it rolled into my chest and bloomed in all the empty spaces I wasn’t aware of having. Work had been my life for so long, I hadn’t allowed room for anything else.

He took our tray to the garbage and waved to the man behind the counter. I smiled and waved as we headed back out into the blustery October afternoon. The subway ride into the business district was quick and uneventful.

People watching was always my favorite thing to do.

Nash sat close to me, and every time I glanced his way, he was looking at me.

“What?”

“I feel like an old man next to you.”

I laughed. “Why?”

“I know you’re in your late twenties, but without your warpaint, you look like you could be in college.”

I leaned into him and nipped at his neck. “Dirty old man.”

He hooked his arm around my neck and dragged me closer, my hand landing just above his belt. “You haven’t seen dirty, duchess.”

I was saved by the announcement for our stop. He stood and took my hand in a vise-like grip against the flood of foot traffic.

Ripper Records’ New York headquarters was more a slick skyscraper business office than a compound like the Los Angeles location. Donovan Lewis had a few on-site studios I’d used before, but I preferred the British-flavored ones in L.A..

We checked in with the desk downstairs. A large man in a dark navy uniform was stationed just beyond the large marble counter.

I blinked at him when he came forward and asked us to come through a metal detector station. Evidently, Donovan’s security-conscious behavior included his own companies. Nash gave me one of his arched eyebrows, but dropped his phone, keys, and wallet into the plastic bin.

I didn’t have much on me since I’d left my house thinking I was just going to get food.

After the human shield checked the zipper in my jacket, we were finally free to go up to the penthouse. The guard typed something into the keypad at the elevator.

Once the doors closed, Nash crossed his arms. “I knew Lewis was obsessive, but this is a bit much.”

“Since the kidnapping, he’s been extra touchy.”

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