Page 12 of Heartbeat Highway

My best friend, who is ogled by almost every single woman in the restaurant as we walk back out to our car. I know what they see. The slash of black hair that falls over those crystal-blue eyes. The permanent five o’clock shadow. The tattoos running up his neck and arms. The easygoing, musician swagger, the way his hands move through air with confidence because those hands know what they can do.

Musically, of course.

I clench my thighs together to calm the aching deep in my core and slide into the passenger seat of the rental sedan. This is a me problem. Good food, good conversation with a very attractive man usually implies a date. But this is Bo.

He smiles at me as he turns the ignition. “You look a little better. How are you feeling?”

“Better. Still pissed at K but…” I pick at the hem of my dress, which has ridden up my thighs. Why I wore this short little dress is—well, I had a good reason. I was planning on surprising K, and having a little welcome sex in my new dress.

And by little, I mean that K has always been a taker and not a giver in bed. Still, I liked that feeling of being wanted, even if I rarely—or never—got off.

The heat of the morning works its way through the windows of the car, and sweat beads under my stomach and between my thighs. I shift in the seat to relieve some of the warmth and tension, but it doesn’t leave. Not with Bo here, beside me.

I stare out the window and try not to concentrate on the swirling feelings in my gut. I just broke up with K. Sure, revenge sex is always a possibility, but is it ever a good idea? Especially not if it will ruin my friendship with Bo. More than anything else, this friendship has gotten me through my time in LA. If I have sex with him and it messes us up, I won’t have anything in California except work and school.

Which should be fine, if I enjoyed either interning or law school. Honestly, the only time I’ve enjoyed my life these past two years has been jamming with Bo and Howl when K wasn’t around. I miss singing so much that the loss hurts worse than knowing K cheated.

That’s a problem for another day.

“But what?” Bo asks.

Right. I never completed my train of thought because I got derailed thinking about Bo’s hands. They’re on the wheel right now, but I picture them sliding up my thigh, lifting the hem of my dress. I’ve always loved that kind of seduction, the feel of fabric sliding up my skin as I’m more and more exposed.

I swallow and fiddle with the air conditioner vent. “I don’t know. I’m jet lagged and wrung out. At the same time, I’m pleasantly full with good food and I feel almost…relieved? Does that make me a bad person if I feel relieved?”

“Of course not.” He grins at me as he pulls the car out of the parking lot and onto the road. “You feel however you feel. There are no shoulds.” That sounds like something his mom would say, and it makes me want to smile.

“I suppose I should be ranting and raving and heartbroken.” The air conditioner in this damn car doesnotwork. Ignoring the warmth of the day settling over me like a blanket of humidity, I keep my gaze out the window. “I’m weirdly not, though. Heartbroken. I thought I would be. Mostly, I’m just disappointed.”

“In him?” Bo’s voice is low and soothing, and sends shivers down my spine. Maybe it always has, and I ignored it all this time because my brain kept saying,you’re with K. But I’m not now.

I remember meeting him in the bar two years ago. I felt so alone. K was late that night, but it hadn’t mattered, because I met Bo and Maxim. I don’t usually connect with people so quickly, but they made it so easy.Hemade it so easy.

“A little,” I finally say. I shift again on the seat. Outside, the landscape is beautiful, lush and green, dotted here and there with little houses with trucks in the driveway. We turn onto Main Street, and shops now line the sidewalks. Tourist places, antique stores, ice cream parlors, cafes. “I’m more disappointedin myself. I feel like I lied to myself for too long, telling myself I liked him when I don’t think I ever loved him.”

That sentence makes me sit up straight. Sometimes the truth falls out of us in a torrent, and when you’re not carrying it, you can breathe again.

Bo’s hands tighten on the wheel. “Really? You don’t think you ever loved him?”

“No.” The tension in my spine eases further. “He never appreciated me. I think I was with him for so long because, with all the stress of school and moving to LA, he was familiar. Like a safety blanket, but one that’s old and scratchy and no longer really does what you need it to do.”

Bo’s mouth is a tight, thin line, and he clenches his jaw. It makes the stubble he didn’t shave this morning stand out like he’s some kind of movie star. He really is a beautiful man. “He never treated you right. You deserve someone who loves you for you.”

There’s a kernel of warmth growing in my chest. I reach over and squeeze Bo’s shoulder. The best I can, because the man has serious muscles and there’s very little flesh to clench. “So do you, Bo.”

This brings up another question, one he and I skirt around from time to time. Why doesn’t Bo have a partner? He’s had a few one night stands, and I’m sure on tour he finds some companionship. I try not to think about it, because the thought of him with another woman always makes my skin itch. It makes me want to saymine, though I know he’s not.

He stops the car at a stop sign and turns to me. There’s something in his expression that’s feral and raw and for a moment, my imagination runs away with me. My imagination tells me he’s going to say he loves me, that he’s been waiting for me to break it off. My imagination tells me that I’ll fling my arms around his neck and kiss him with abandon, with all the pent upfeelings I’ve caged since I met him two years ago. Two weeks too late.

What happens instead is someone behind us honks.

Bo snaps out of it and stares ahead at the road. “Sorry,” he says, but for what, I’m not sure.

Then he takes his foot off the brake, presumably pushes the gas pedal, and absolutely nothing happens.

That’s when I realize that I can’t hear the purr of the car’s engine any more.

CHAPTER 7

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