Page 38 of Of Heartbreak and Harmony
Not at all what I expected for a spoiled rock star. Nothing looks overly lavish or dramatic. Nothing screams opulence or wealth. It’s homey. Comfortable. It makes me dislike her more because it’s exactly the way I’d want my own home to feel if I could ever afford to own a house.
The inside is a hive of activity. There are security guards moving about, lugging suitcases out a side door. Wade Hammond, the manager, is barking into a phone and scrolling on a tablet, and Sav and Mabel are nowhere to be found. Jonah, however, is digging through a refrigerator on the far side of the open-concept floor plan and my eyes lock on him. Something about seeing a rock star bent over with his head in a kitchen appliance helps to calm my nerves a little.
I didn’t pay much attention to Jonah when I was at Torren’s apartment, but if he knew who I was, he didn’t let it show. He was never on my radar before. It makes sense that I also wouldn’t be on his. For some reason, the threat of Jonah remembering me seems less daunting than Torren. Maybe it’s because it feels less likely. Or maybe it’s because, if Jonah remembers, the worst thing I’d be is embarrassed. Not humiliated and heartbroken.
Oddly enough, Jonah feels like safe, neutral territory, and my feet lead me to him without prompting. He’s closing the fridge when I step up beside him, and he turns to look at me. He nods but says nothing,then hands me a bottle of water before opening the fridge again and pulling out a new one.
“Thanks,” I say, then I uncap the bottle and take a drink without taking my eyes off him. He does the same.
He swallows, and my eyes fall to his Adam’s apple. The anatomical heart tattooed on his throat bobs with the motion, almost like it’s beating. I flick my eyes back to his to find him watching me. Without taking his eyes off mine, he brings the bottle back to his lips as if he knows what I was thinking. I drop my eyes back to his throat and he proceeds to take several more swallows of water. My eyebrows rise in appreciation. The heart definitely looks like it’s beating.
“Cool,” I say.
He doesn’t respond.
I find Jonah easier to look at than Torren, so I do it openly. I run my eyes over his face. I study his hair—long and bleached blond—and his build—toned and lean. I drop my gaze down his body, then back up, noting the faded jeans and vintage-looking band T-shirt.
He doesn’t move. He keeps his face blank but lets me look.
Briefly, I wonder if I’m being rude, but something tells me he doesn’t mind. I’m about to spend three months in very close quarters with Torren. I can only assume Jonah will be around constantly, and I need to know who he is to feel comfortable.
I’m ashamed to say I never paid much attention to Jonah before now. I don’t have his tattoos memorized the way I do Torren’s. I didn’t even know his eyes were such a striking blue until right now.
He’s got a small hoop in his eyebrow, a small hoop in his nose, and a watch on his wrist with a faded leather band, but the rest of his accessories are inked onto his skin. He’s similar to Torren in that way. No added frills because they’re basically walking canvases.
“Verdict?” he asks, raising his eyebrow. I purse my lips.
“Jury is still out.”
He nods. “Welcome to the band, Callie.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I say nothing. Then Hammond steps up next to me and breaks whatever silent stare off Jonah and I have fallen into.
“Miss James?—”
“Callie.”
“Callie. If you wouldn’t mind, we’d like to get some shots of you and Torren outside.”
I narrow my eyes at Hammond. “Are these to leak to the press?”
“They are.”
I take a deep breath and glance at Jonah. He’s not looking at me anymore, suddenly engrossed in something on his phone. I don’t know why I thought he might save me from this task—it is my new job, after all, and I’m nothing if not a model employee.
“Okay,” I say with a nod. “Lead the way.”
I follow Hammond as he leads me back out the front door and into the circle driveway. Torren’s leaning on the rear of his car, his hands in his pockets and his focus on the ground. When he hears us coming, though, he looks up. He’s wearing his sunglasses, but I feel his attention on me, and my stomach flips. I can’t stop the scowl that follows. Goddamn stomach. Stupid nervous flips. Then Torren arches a brow, and I narrow my eyes.
“What?”
“You’re going to have to work on that expression every time you see me. No one’s going to believe we’re dating if you always look like you want to stab me in the throat.”
I roll my eyes, then force a smile. From the look on his face, he’s not impressed, so I try again. I bat my eyelashes and saunter up to him, smiling sweetly. He doesn’t move from where he’s leaning on the car, and he doesn’t take his hands out of his pockets. When I’ve reached him, I place my hands on his chest and look at my reflection in his mirrored sunglasses.
“How’s this, boss?”
He cocks his head slightly to the side. “Boss?”
