Page 33 of Love is a Drum Beat
Neither of them spoke again while Dax continued to cook. By the time the food was ready, they’d reached a comfortable silence. He slid a plate toward her and took a seat on the stool next to hers.
They ate without speaking, something Dax was used to. He got the feeling being quiet was new for Jo, and he’d have given anything to hear what was on her mind.
Dax swallowed his last bite. “I need to go out after I clean up. Will you be okay?”
“Dax.” She leveled him with a very Jo-like stare. “I’m fine. I don’t need a babysitter.”
He wasn’t so sure about that, but he nodded and cleared their plates. Jo moved to come help him clean, but he shot her a look that had her backing off.
She turned to walk back to her room before calling over her shoulder. “Thanks for eating with me.”
When her door shut, Dax sagged against the counter. Being around Jo had always made a nervous energy race through him, and this time was no different.
Jo was a drummer with pink-tipped hair. Sarcasm dripped off most of her words, and she was pregnant with someone else’s baby.
Yet…
Yet.
She’d always be the girl who haunted him, the one he could never have. Because the Jo Jacksons of the world paid no mind to bumbling idiots who could barely get two words out.
He’d always known if his identity was revealed, the entire world would see him differently.
He threw the dish towel on the counter and rounded the island to get to the front door. He thought about calling for a car, but he needed to get out and he needed it now. Snatching his keys off the hook by the door, he stepped outside and gulped in the fresh air.
Sparing one more glance at the house, he slid into his Honda. His friends teased him about the car, saying he hired private jets but drove an old lady car.
It worked for him.
He didn’t need much from the grocery store—it was more an excuse to get out—but he found himself there anyway.
Paparazzi stood scattered near the entrance. They never went away in case there was a celebrity sighting.
He didn’t usually bother with disguises except when leaving the studio, but his face was out there now. They might not recognize him as Dax Nelson, but he wanted to avoid the questions about Jo, so he pulled a ball cap down low.
He stepped out of his Honda and weaved around cars to get to the entrance, avoiding looking at the paparazzi.
His breath rushed into him when he set foot inside the store.
He searched the aisles, but none of the reporters seemed to have come in. With a sigh, he wandered the store, not really sure what he’d come for. In the next week, Ben would invade his home studio for their collaboration, so he found the seltzer water both Ben and Jo liked, as well as a few other snacks. He snagged a basket and dumped his pickings in.
Dax rounded the corner of an aisle and froze as he recognized the man pondering the chip selection.
Blake Coleman.
The douchewad who forced Jo into an NDA.
He tried to see what she’d seen in him. The entire world thought Blake was a good-looking guy, but beyond that, what would have attracted Jo to a man they all hated?
As if sensing someone watching, Blake turned, his eyes meeting Dax’s. “You have a problem, man?”
Dax normally avoided confrontation at all costs, but something kept him there, something emboldened his words. “I do.” He took a step forward. What was he doing?
When Blake shot him a murderous look, Dax wanted to turn back, to go home to Jo and reassure her that she didn’t need this man, she only needed Dax.
Blake set the bag of chips he’d been holding back on the shelf. “Go home, man. You don’t want to mess with me.” He shook his head but didn’t take his eyes off Dax.
“You are the worst kind of human.” The insult was lame, but Dax didn’t care. He couldn’t look at Blake without a pit opening up inside him.
