Page 2 of Heartbeat Highway

She glances between me and Maxim. Blue. Her eyes are cornflower blue. Midwest, I’d stake my jaded Angeleno heart on it. Her shoulders rise in a moment of hesitation, then she settles into herself and walks toward us.

I doubt it’s because of me, as much as I want it to be. Maxim is quintessential girl bait. He’s almost six-four with dark brown skin, tattoos that wind from his wrists to his shoulders, and eyes that women have swooned over.

I know because I’ve caught them. It’s a good thing drumming also works as an arm workout.

“Here we go.” Maxim relinquishes his plate of fries and leans back against the fading leather of the booth.

“Hi.” The woman stops at the edge of the table and holds up a hand. I love a shy girl. My last relationship was with a vitamin influencer. There’s a good reason our series of hook ups ended after four months. She’d wanted the Son of Runner Harley and I wanted someone who liked Bo. “I’m Lily.” She shifts from foot to foot.

“Hey.” I set down my sticks. “I’m Bo. This is Maxim. Take a seat. It’s hard to find one tonight.”

She hesitates another moment. I’m fascinated by her. Onstage, she was so confident, so alive, and now on the ground she’s timid. Then she nods once and slides in beside me. She smells like roses and something bright and citrusy. I wonder if I can take a larger whiff without looking like a total creep.

Probably not.

“Thanks,” she says.

Maxim looks between the two of us, a smirk playing around his mouth. “What do you want to drink, Lily? I’m buying.”

“I don’t know.” She blushes, and I like the color of it on her full cheeks. “Are you guys going to judge me if I say I want a fruity cocktail?”

“Absolutely not.” Maxim slaps the table. “Fruity cocktail, little umbrella if they have it. I’ll be right back.” He kicks me under the table and gives me a pointed look. I could remind him that I’ll do just fine striking out on my own.

“You guys are musicians?” Lily gestures to the sheet music and my drumsticks, strewn across the table. “It’s a little obvious.”

“Yeah. Maxim plays bass, and I’m the drummer. We’re in a new band as of a few days ago, so you’ve never heard of us.”

“Yet.” She holds up a finger, and there’s something so unpretentious about her declaration, I almost believe it myself. “It’s a good thing I didn’t know you guys were out here earlier. I never would have sung in front of real musicians. I was nervous enough.”

“You sing beautifully,” I say. “You had the whole crowd captivated.”

“Really?” Her entire countenance lights up. “I’m not pitchy?”

“Not in the least.” I drink from my half-full bottle of beer. ”Are you a singer?”

“Only in my dreams.” She sighs. “I moved out to LA a couple weeks ago, for law school. I haven’t met a lot of people so far, though. The other students are all so stressed out already. It’s either let’s-drink-our-cares-away or they’re deeply entrenched in the library.” She leans a little toward me, one hand covering the side of her mouth, like she’s about to divulge a huge secret. It’s incredibly cute and somehow arousing as well. “Classes started three days ago.”

I feel the smile tug at the corner of my mouth. “You’re going to be a lawyer? That’s great.”

“Is it?” She plays with her hands. She should take up drumming. That’s how I manage my nervous habits. I went to college for graphic design, and it pays the bills along with my trust, but as much as I have no desire to live my father’s life, I kind of can’t live without music. It’s a conundrum. “Okay. This is something you only tell a stranger. So, my mom and I, in high school, used to watchThe Good Wifeall the time. It was our ‘girls night in’ special.” She spreads her hands wide, excited as she’s discussing it. I lean into her, her enthusiasm infectious. “My mom loves that show, and I loved Alicia Florrick. She was so gorgeous and confident, but still empathetic. She had this magnetism that I craved.”

Why can’t she see how magnetic she is? Whoever dampened her confidence, I’d like to rip them a new one. “I’ve never seen it, but it sounds like I need to change that right now. Is that why you wanted to go to law school?”

“I figured if I couldn’t be a singer—”

“Why can’t you be a singer?” I’ve tried not being a drummer, but no matter how hard I try, the music keeps pulling me back in. It’s why I built my walls and list of rules. If I could sing like she can? I definitely couldn’t walk away from that. Music is in some people’s DNA.

Takes one to know one.

She rolls her eyes. I’ve never even seen cornflowers but I swear her eyes are that color. “My parents are amazing, but they’re from the Midwest.” Ha. Nailed it. “Singing is something you only do in the shower and on long car trips, not a career.”

“Hm.” Interesting. It always surprises me how differently other people grew up. Somewhere out there is a video of me at three years old, singing in front of all of Crooked, my dadcoaching me. It was the first time he ever sent my stuff to an agent.

Not the last.

“Anyway, it’s no secret that I’m not Juliana Margulies.”

“I think you can give her a run for her money,” I say. So I don’t touch her, I pick up my beer bottle and drain it. It does nothing to calm my racing heart rate. I’ve never felt like this with anyone before. It’s so comfortable . I want to share all my secrets. It’s a dangerous and slippery slope.

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