Page 399 of One More Kiss

“Exactly. And what do you do, mister No-First-Name Music Man?”

His mouth quirks up on one side. “A little bit of everything.”

“That’s not vague at all.”

He laughs. “Let’s just say that I’m a good judge of character.”

“Because that’s less vague,” I tease, loving our banter way more than I should.

Another laugh slips out of him. ”All right, Smarty Pants, this is what I do. I find and assess diamonds in the rough.”

“Like Aladdin?”

He rolls his eyes. “Sure. Like Aladdin. I help get them in touch with the people who can take them to the next level. Sometimes, that means scouting an up-and-coming band before hooking them up with an opportunity to tour with someone who could share the same audience. Sometimes, that means stumbling upon raw, untapped talent and setting them up with a manager who can get the ball rolling. And sometimes, that means salvaging said talented individuals by covering up an incident that could lead to bad PR. It just depends on the day.”

“Sounds like you’re a jack-of-all-trades. Is that why you were hesitant to work with Broken Vows?”

Giving me the side-eye, he asks, “Am I talking to the bartender I’m interested in sleeping with tonight or the sleuth that was sent to distract me and is digging for information?”

His casualness makes me blush as I untuck my hair to cover my cheeks before staring out the passenger window like the winding road is the most fascinating thing I’ve ever seen.

“The, uh, the first one,” I mutter.

“Then, yes,” he returns. I can still hear his amusement. The slight lilt of his voice. The husky undertone as if he’s holding back another laugh. My insides tighten.

“That’s why I won’t be working with Broken Vows,” he continues.

“Wait, you’ve already decided?”

“The lead singer fucked up tonight––”

“Aren’t we all allowed to make mistakes?”

“Is it the first one he’s ever made?” he challenges.

“Well…no, but––”

“I have a reputation, Sammie. I work with people who are serious about their craft, and they should be rewarded for it. I’m not saying Broken Vows isn’t talented, but there are enough diamonds in the rough who take their shit seriously that I don’t need to waste my time on a ticking time bomb.”

I jerk back with pinched brows. “But they’re not a ticking time bomb, and they do take their music seriously.”

“It’s not enough for the majority of them to take it seriously, Princess. That’s my point. What happens when the lead singer––”

“Fen,” I clarify for him.

“What happens when Fen doesn’t show up to a performance? It doesn’t just look bad for him. Hell, it doesn’t just look bad for the entire band. It looks bad for me, too, if I’m the one who recommends them for a gig. I can’t let that happen.”

Annoyed, I fold my arms and rest my head against the passenger window.

He sighs, his tone softening as a glimpse of the non-cutthroat Hawthorne decides to make an appearance. “Why do you care so much, anyway?”

Glancing over at him, I take a deep breath and shrug one shoulder. “I guess I like cheering for the underdog. Besides, they’re practically family. Broken Vows has been performing at SeaBird for almost two years now. And they rock it every time. The idea of them missing out on this huge opportunity sucks.”

He nods. “It does.”

“Are you sure there isn’t anything you can do?”

His knuckles tighten around the steering wheel before he tears his gaze from mine and mutters, “Are you hungry?”

---