Page 15 of Broken Bridges

Flint sat on one of the sofas, strumming his electric guitar. Lewis sat opposite him, plucking his bass. Notebooks, Flint’s laptop, and two energy drinks littered the coffee table between them. Lewis pivoted his head toward me. A small smile curled at the corner of his mouth, then he winked. My knees weakened, and my heart skipped a beat. Stupid heart. But damn! He’d looked sexy as hell last night at the club, but in faded ripped jeans and an old sweatshirt, he had me hotter and more bothered than I should be. I shouldn’t be reacting like this to someone who was off-limits. Fuck. I’m a screw-up.

“You’re late.” Flint half-grinned and glared at Cole and Slip. “We agreed on ten o’clock, not eleven.”

“Flint, it’s my fault.” I hobbled over to him and handed him a coffee. “I needed to strap my ankle.” Even after sleeping with an icepack on, it had swollen to the size of a baseball.

Over more shots of vodka and bourbon at the club last night, I’d told the guys about my injury. Like Cole, they’d been adamant that nothing, not even a messed-up leg, would keep me down. I wished I could believe them.

Flint stood his guitar against the sofa and took a sip of his cappuccino. “And if I remember correctly, Tee, you’re not a morning person.”

“Nope.” I ruffled his soft black hair. “Neither are you.” I wasn’t looking forward to early starts again when my new show kicked off in January. There wasn’t enough caffeine in the world to make the mornings easier.

“No, I’m not.” He wriggled his eyebrows “But Sutton is. She made sure I was up before she went shopping.” A shit-eating grin slid across his face. “Sex was worth it.”

My shoulders slumped. I hadn’t had sex in months. No guy would want someone with a limp and ugly scars. Thank God for vibrators. I went through batteries by the truckload.

I shuffled around the coffee table and handed Lewis a coffee. Ignoring the flutter in my tummy, I sank onto the seat beside him. “Cappuccino. Hope you like it?”

He took the cup. “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.” Redness rimmed his stunning silver eyes. A pale tinge of gray hued his skin. Oh yeah. He wasn’t running at one hundred percent, hungover from too much bourbon and God only knew what else he’d downed before I’d arrived with Cole. “If it’s got caffeine in it, I’m good.”

“Guys?” Flint licked and wiped foam from his upper lip. “Lewis and I have been running through two more songs. Some of the progressions he’s come up with are good and might work for ‘So Long.’”

“Are you trying to impress the boss?” Chuckling, Cole walked behind Lewis and playfully clipped him on the back of his head. Cole took a seat next to Flint, nearly missing the edge of the sofa, but was quick to clamber onto the cushion. He could possibly still be drunk. Thank goodness Slip had picked us up and driven us here, although...he didn’t look much better.

“No.” Lewis shook his head. “I’m only offering some suggestions. You don’t have to use them. It’s just nice to be heard for a change.”

Hmmm. I took a mouthful of my coffee. I could listen to Lewis’s kinky-edged voice all day long.

Flint slapped Cole on the leg, hard. “Don’t spin shit to Lewis. I’m not the boss. Everyone’s equal.”

“Yes, boss.” Slip slid onto the single chair at the other end of the sofas. He tossed his cell phone and keys onto the coffee table then buried his face in his hands.

“You’re such a dick.” Flint flicked his long hair off his eyes and laughed.

“Can’t you handle big nights, Slip?” Lewis raised a questioning eyebrow.

Slip pressed his fingers against his temples and rubbed them in circles. “Ergh! Not when I mix drinks.”

Placing my hand against my stomach, I could relate to Slip’s current state of health. The cocktail of bourbon and vodka I’d drunk last night wasn’t stilling well in my gut. The coffees may come back if I’d belched. But as I shuffled on the sofa, an inch closer to Lewis, the temperature between us jumped. The skin on my arm tingled.

Lewis’s gaze dropped to my wrist. His brows pinched together. Did he feel that?

Ergh!

I was too hungover to deal with this shit. I was sure it was just a side effect from the alcohol seeping from every one of my pores, creating a toxic vapor in the air.

I eased a few inches away from him and rested my head back. I should’ve stayed in bed.

Lewis turned to Slip. “So, Cole hooked up with a Bella Hadid lookalike. Did you have any luck last night?”

“Nope.” Slip continued to rub his temples.

I giggled. I loved that the guys didn’t always get lucky. It kept them grounded, real, and their cocky arrogance at a tolerable level. I hoped they never changed as they grew more popular. “These guys aren’t as irresistible as they think they are.” Stretching out my leg, I massaged my aching knee. “What about you, Lewis? Any luck with Mr. Gosling?”

When I’d left with Cole and his hookup to head home, Lewis had been outside, leaning against a car, talking to the same guy.

“No.” He nudged my good leg with his knee. “The conversations you and I had were much more entertaining than the ones I’d had with him and his friends. They were stockbrokers.”

“Hmm.” I summoned a low, seductive tone. “Doesn’t talking about fondling your finances, hot stocks, and sexy trades get you off?”

---