Page 50 of Not the Billionaire

She widened her eyes at him and shrugged her shoulders.

He stood and walked closer to the guys, holding a hand up. “Do you have any more mainstream 80s songs in your repertoire? You are an 80s band, right?”

Gunner nodded, his long hair falling forward over his shoulders. “80s heavy metal.”

Kurtis looked over his shoulder at Genevieve. She couldn’t believe her mistake. Marjorie hadn’t specified what type of 80s band they were, and Gunner hadn’t said so when they spoke on the phone.

“Okay, thanks, guys,” Kurtis told them. “We’ll let you know.”

He took Genevieve’s arm and quickly rushed her out of the room as the band began to play again.

She could not contain her laughter. “Oh my gosh. I’m sorry. I thought they were an 80s pop band.”

He laughed as they walked speedily to the exit with the screeching and screaming—er, singing—following them down the hallway. “I’d say they’re a little more Iron Maiden than Huey Lewis.”

A part of her felt embarrassed for this mistake, and if it had been anyone but Kurtis, she would have been seriously humiliated, but he had a way of making things seem not as bad as she’d built them up to be in her head.

“What’s the other band we’re meeting?”

She wrinkled her nose, wondering if maybe the next would be as bad as this one. “Roaring Twenties.”

“Hopefully not actually roaring,” he joked.

She playfully smacked his arm. “I didn’t know, okay.”

“I’m messing with you. Anyone could’ve made that mistake.”

“That makes me feel better. Really. Thank you.”

He smiled sweetly at her. “No problem.”

“Okay, well, on to the next meeting then.”

She drove them not too far away to another location. This time it was in an individual’s home in a dedicated music studio in their basement. The room was open and spacious and clean, unlike the warehouse they had met the heavy metal band in.

The members of the band were all polite, and Genevieve was instantly comfortable with them. And when they started to play, she watched Kurtis, who was bobbing his head to the jazzy rhythm and tapping a foot on the floor, and they both nodded simultaneously.

They were perfect.

“We’ve heard enough.” Genevieve stood.

The lead singer stopped mid-chorus, and her expression fell. “We’ve got a couple others if that’s not what you’re looking for.”

“You’re hired!”

After their outing, Genevieve drove them back to the Schultz Building. As they walked across the parking lot, Kurtis suddenly wound his fingers through hers. But before she had time to enjoy the feeling or register what was happening, he tugged her along the sidewalk away from the front entrance of the building.

“Where are we going?”

“Side entrance.”

“What for?”

“Uh …” He glanced back over his shoulder and walked them a little faster.

She looked behind them and saw a couple men walking away from the building. One looked a lot like the founder of the company, Ephraim Schultz, whose picture she’d seen displayed in the lobby, but she was squinting into the sun and couldn’t be sure.

“Is that—?” She didn’t get a chance to finish her question because Kurtis pulled her around the corner and headed for the loading docks to the rear of the manufacturing building.

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