Page 1 of Spring Break with a Bass Player
PROLOGUE
BRIDGER
DECEMBER
I’m late.
I’m so damn late there’s not even a good way to explain how I could possibly be so late or why I didn’t call.
This is totally fine.
Throwing my car into park, I jump out of the driver’s seat and race to the front door, knowing that at a minimum I need to change my clothes but more accurately need a shower—except there’s no time.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Saige!” I call, waiting with bated breath as I hear the lock on the door click before the damn thing is nearly torn from the hinges when she rips it open. She’s breathtaking even when she’s breathing fire, her face devoid of makeup, and she’s wearing clothes that say Iabsolutelymissed my chance.
“No.”
“I can explain.”
“No.” She crosses her arms over her chest, the movement pushing her breasts up in her tank top, and because I’m not stupid, I keep my eyes locked on hers.
“Please?” When she only glares at me, I take that as a sign to start talking. “I had to go help one of the guys in the band unload the moving van. His wife is pregnant and I told him I would. It took longer than expected and then on the way home my car started overheating and I didn’t have anything in the car so I had to run—literally run—to the convenience store I passed to grab water for the radiator. And I would have called but my phone died, and I was so focused on getting the water and getting back that I didn’t buy a charger.”
She studies me, her expression hard and lacking emotion as she looks me up and down.
“I believe you.”
“That’s—”
“But it doesn’t matter,” she says, her icy tone making my heart sink. “I told you that you hadonechance not to let me down and you did—rather spectacularly.”
“Saige.”
“Save it, Band Camp. I told you I don’t date musicians, but you kept asking and I thoughtmaybe he’ll prove me wrong—maybe he’ll be different.” She glares and I swallow hard. “You made me say yes and the worst part? I was actually excited about it.”
“Let me just change. We can still?—”
“No.” The word is a humorous laugh. “No, I’ve been here before and I’m not doing it again. I told you that.”
“But you believe me.”
“I do.”
“But it doesn’t matter,” I confirm as defeat starts to settle in.
“Nope.” She pops thepas I drag a hand down my face.
Dammit.
When I meet her gaze, it’s a mixture of disappointment and validation. She’d counted on me fucking up and I did.
But it’s not who I am…notallthat I am at least.
“All right,” I say, shoving my hands in the front pocket of my jeans and rocking back on my heels. “You win but…”
“But what?”
