Page 1 of Reckless

CHAPTERONE

Miles opened his email with the link his aunt had sent of a live performance of a band he was thinking of having open up for Earthquakes on their upcoming US and Canada tour. He’d already heard their new studio length release but live was a different story.

Blue, you’ve heard their produced sound, but Jeremy sent along this video of a recent live performance to give you an idea of what they’re like live. Love you. Come take me to lunch soon. Xoxoxo, Auntie E.

No one but his aunt called him by his middle name, Miles thought as he smiled at her message, making a mental note to drop by and take her to lunch the following week. Jeremy was his agent too, and had sent him the video as well, but Erin sending it meant even more.

Grabbing his headphones and synching them with his laptop, he flicked a fingertip over the return key to open the link and start the video.

Harlow Martin was a punch to the solar plexus. Blue lights splashed over her skin, shoulders, and the line of her jaw as she sang, full throated, body rocked forward as she played guitar. The intro was good. The guitars built seamlessly upward, catching the barb of the drums.

She owned her space on stage. Knew her angles, flirted just over the head of the audience. An ideal without being a tease. An act every bit as much as any male lead ever was.

The snarled whiskey of her voice filled his head, swirling like a sharp-edged tornado to his gut where it seemed to shift something. Unlock the dam he’d carefully constructed against his baser impulses.

Then she shifted into a new song with three jumps sending her breasts high rather delightfully as she stayed on beat and never got winded. She made it look effortless as she hit one of her pedals, turned and gave the other singer a coy look as she handed the lead over to him.

Their show was high energy. Twelve songs and they only slowed it down twice. He checked the date and information attached and noted that it had been seventeen shows into their current tour and they weren’t tired at all. Weren’t phoning it in.

Harlow Martin loved what she did.

Miles sat there, absolutely ensorcelled by her. Yes, absolutely Above Me could hold their own on stage opening for Earthquakes. Yes, this person had whatever quality it took to handle the intensity of attention and expectations from their position.

His heart thundered to the point of slight dizziness as a knowing seemed to settle into his bones. He’d been burned badly a few years before. Bad enough that he’d been licking his wounds and had kept his personal life locked the fuck down to keep from making any more painful mistakes with beautiful people who made his dick hard.

But this one?Thisbeautiful person? Harlow Martin not only made his dick hard with her fiery, self-assured sexual attractiveness, she was talented as fuck. Creative. She co-wrote the band’s smart, insightful, clever songs. She was interesting.

She didn’t need anyone else to get ahead. Didn’t need to attach herself to someone else’s star or bask in the light of another sun.

And he knew her.

Her father wasn’t just a successful musician. Richie Martin was heavy metal royalty and had dominated that part of the music world for decades.

So because Miles’s dad was also a successful musical act, he and Harlow had bumped into one another backstage at festivals and the like and had created a friendship. As the kid of a rock star, Harlow knew him and their life in ways that created a deep intimacy from jump. An intimacy he should be wary of, but instead found himself intrigued by enough to want more of.

He hadn’t seen her in person in about six years. Since a giant radio station show their dads had played. Back then he’d thought she was pretty and funny. He’d liked her but there hadn’t been enough of her in his life that he’d pursued more. He’d gone on to build his own career and apparently, she’d done the same.

But right then? Harlow set fire to something inside him. Made him want to haul her close and kiss her on the mouth. Smear her lipstick and get drunk on her taste. Something about her called to him on levels he hadn’t known existed. Which made her a threat he had no way to counter. And he…well, he didn’t want to.

Before he thought about it any further, he forwarded the footage to his bandmates. They’d already heard—and given their thumbs up on—Above Me, but he figured it couldn’t hurt for them to see the other band in action.

Miles rolled into their rehearsal space a few days later. Nearly everyone else had already arrived so he got himself a mug of tea. The last thing he needed was to strain his voice before they’d even left town.

He’d forwarded a copy of Above Me’s album to all his bandmates when he’d put them in his top three a few weeks prior. Earthquakes was a democracy. Though he was their leader, they generally made decisions as a unit. It kept a sort of cohesion and unity he saw in bands that survived the long term.

Which band opened was a choice he definitely wanted everyone to make as a group. And, as he’d figured, each of them had responded back with Above Me ranked at the top. That’d been before he’d sent them all the concert footage. After that, they’d all doubled down on their support.

“By the way, I’ve been listening to Above Me all week. I like their sound a lot. Harlow is a beast as a frontwoman,” Maddie Hurley told him as he strolled over. She led the band at his side as the rhythm guitarist and he valued her opinion a great deal. “That footage, yo. I need to make her my new best friend. I think we’re roughly the same size. That would double my wardrobe.” She laughed like she already didn’t have a ridiculous amount of clothing courtesy of a mother who ran a series of clothing boutiques.

“She’s got this edge that plays with girly but wraps it in barbed wire. It’s…effective.” Heat slid through his system. There was something about the way she wielded her appearance that made it even hotter. Smarter. Sharper.

That something deep inside him that Harlow had awakened—that sense of recognition—had already begun to take up space.

Maddie looked him over through narrowed eyes. “Why do you have a tone? What does it mean?”

Fuck. This was what happened when a person worked with family. They knew you pretty damned well. “I have a what?” He smeared cream cheese on a bagel and draped a slice of tomato and some lox over that. “Where did these come from?”Yes, oh yes, the chew alone told him they were likely not from anywhere local.

“How should I know? Your sister came in, dropped food off, talked to me about some album and tour stuff and left again.Focus, Miles.When you talk about her band, or, maybe specifically about Harlow Martin, you sound different. Interested?”

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