Page 68 of Fauxmance

I caught myself staring at Hayden's hands as he drove—the same hands that had gripped my waist and tucked my hair behind my ear. My gaze moved to his lips, and I shivered. I could still feel the imprint of them on my skin. My eyes were on him, and his were on the road. If I kept it up, I knew he'd eventually catch me, so I forced myself to look away. Watching the scenery pass by seemed safer than gazing at my pretend boyfriend. Still. It was the longest 20 minutes of my life.

The good thing was Hayden seemed preoccupied with his thoughts, too. He didn't comment on my silence. He actually didn't say a word until we arrived at his place.

The apartment was on the second floor. After unlocking the door, he held it open, gesturing for me to go inside first. What I saw was definitely not what I expected.

I stepped into a big living room. There was a black sectional sofa and two recliners. A gorgeous wooden coffee table sat in the middle of the space. One wall was taken up mostly by a big screen TV. There was a kitchen attached to the living room with a nice white marble island in the center. There weren't any dishes in the sink. The white cabinets practically sparkled. So did the wooden floor, I noticed. If it wasn't for the other wall completely dedicated to guitars and the drum kit sitting in the corner, I wouldn't know a musician lived here at all.

"Do you approve?" Hayden said.

I met his gaze which was intent on my face. I realized then that while I'd been checking out the room, he'd most likely been looking at me. Fighting down a blush, I nodded.

"Of course," I said. "Who wouldn't like this place?"

Hayden grinned. "My parents for one."

"But it's gorgeous."

"Not up to Davenport standards."

"Those must be pretty high," I muttered.

Hayden laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound. "You have no idea, Magnolia."

Trying to bring us back to the positive, I said, "Well, I think it's wonderful. Do you live here by yourself?"

He shook his head. "My band and I share the space."

My jaw dropped in surprise.

"What's that look for?"

Gazing around then looking back to him, I said, "You and your band must be the cleanest guys in…well, ever. This apartment is immaculate. Or wait, do you have a maid?"

"No," he said, "no maid—but we do have Ryker. He's the clean freak. If we don't pick up our stuff, he gets very annoyed. He's also built like a tank and a hell of a drummer."

"Ah, I see," I said. "Ryker's a cool name."

"Yeah, it is. Not as cool as our bassist's," he said. When I lifted a brow, he added, "Santino Alverez. Now, that's a name."

"Oh my gosh, I love it!"

Hayden grinned. "I'll be sure to let him know."

"It's got nothing on Hayden Bartholomew Davenport the third, but…"

As he threw me the stink-eye, I couldn't hold back a laugh.

"Anyway," I said, holding up my hands, "besides showing me the sweet apartment you share with two other guys—"

"Three," he cut in. "Elliot sings and plays piano."

I nodded. "Good to know. But why are we here again?"

Hayden's face lit up. "Excellent question, Maggie. We're here because you need an education."

"Excuse me, I'm a straight-A student," I said with a sniff.

"Now, why doesn't that surprise me?"

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