Page 38 of Dirty Rock

“Fuck.”

“Sorry?”

I frowned, closing my eyes. “I meant to say hey. I didn’t expect you to pick up.”

“Oh.”

Oh. The simplest word to exist. The easiest response to give someone. Yet she made it sound like she’d just offered to drop to her knees in front of me and spend a week pressing her lips to my balls. I definitely should have scratched that itch and gotten it out of my system.

“Let me start again. Hey, Jules,” I eventually said.

“Hey.”

“You doing okay?” I took her off speaker, pressed the phone to my ear, and I laid back down to look up at the woman with the fake tits.

“I’m fine, Rhett. What can I do for you?”

Just like that, she was back to being my publicist. She was back to working for the band. She was in business mode, no doubt dressed in her sexy little blazers and tight cotton T-shirts.

“You can start by telling me what the hell happened back in America.”

“I told you what happened.”

“With your sister? Yeah, I know about that, and like I said that night, I’m really fucking sorry, Jules… but that’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it.” I paused, giving her a chance to respond. When she didn’t, I pushed my free hand through my hair and groaned. “You left.”

“I had to.”

“No, you didn’t. I don’t want things to be weird between us just because you threw yourself at me.”

“Threwmyself?”

I smirked at the memory of her lips pressing against mine. I imagined her now, pushing her short hair back from her forehead, that mouth of hers pursing with incredulousness. “Lucky for you, I’m a good catcher.”

“If you’ve just phoned to gloat—”

“I’ve phoned because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

My hand froze in my hair, my eyes widening as I stared up at Tits McGee above me, unable to believe the words that had fallen free from my lips.

“What did you say?” Jules whispered.

“I…” Fuck. How was I going to get out of this?

Sometimes the only way out is through.

“I said I can’t stop thinking about you, Jules, and it’s driving me crazy here.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because I mean it.”

“Well, don’t. Don’t mean it. I’m your publicist, Rhett. We’re business.”

“What if I want to make us about more than that?”

“Is this a game to you?” I heard the slight quiver in her voice. “Am I a challenge now? You’ve had your fill of those willing, so you’ve decided to chase what’s off-limits?”

“I seem to remember you being pretty willing back in my hotel room.”

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