Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Gemma
Of course, the owner of the bar was hot as fuck.
Not just hot, either. He was downright sinful.
The pictures online don’t do him justice…
With rich hazel eyes, dark brown hair, and tattoos covering his arms, hands, and neck, I could only imagine how much more ink hid beneath his clothes. He had that bad-boy look— you know, the one you automatically think of when the words musician, bartender, tattoos, and pure lust all string together and produce one hell of a man.
That was Max Costa.
How did I already know so much about him?
Well, of course, I did my research. It wasn’t hard these days with social media, and sure enough, he popped up right away. There were articles upon articles about his band, and it seemed like he made a pretty good living for himself. But then they sort of drifted out of the scene and quietly disbanded. I tried to find out why they broke up, but there wasn’t much information. Almost as if someone paid another person to wipe it clean off the internet. Again, I wondered…
Dammit. My nosy-ass mind needed to stop. My mother’s words rang in my head— Gemma, stop being so damn nosy. People don’t like other people in their business.
But to me, it always felt like curiosity. It was how my mind worked. How was I supposed to control that?
When my mother and I decided to pack up our shit and move to Appleridge for a better life for us and, more importantly, my four-year-old daughter, Harmony, I job searched the area, hoping for a local bar or club to play at. Ever since I was a little girl, being a musician had been my dream. I wrote my own music and lyrics and played the songs on my acoustic guitar.
While it’d never made me much money, it was a dream I couldn’t give up on. If I had to make money doing something else in the meantime, then I would. I had before. But I’d never stop finding a place to perform. I wanted to share my music with the world, even if no one liked it.
So when I saw Appleridge had a local bar called Mixer that had live music nights where you were paid to perform, it confirmed our decision to move here. No more crappy waitressing in the city and hustling at club shows, no more never seeing my daughter grow up. Here, I could play gigs for money and spend the daytime with my daughter before she began kindergarten.
Naturally, it led me to find out more about the bar and the ever-mysterious Max. Seeing him in the flesh made me want to know even more.
But I ignored my urges and focused on performing the hell out of my favorite song I wrote.
Besides, love was the last thing on my mind, not after the number my daughter’s father did to me. But no one said the single mama couldn’t have some fun, right?
For the entire hour I played, Max stood in the same spot and never broke eye contact. He watched me with such intensity, I felt naked under his stare.
Was he undressing me with his eyes?
When my time was up, I took a bow while the bar erupted into loud clapping all around. I’d say that was a success.
Walking off the stage, I was pretty damn proud of myself. I headed to the hallway in the back, wanting to find the schedule book. I needed to book more time slots. Don told me over the phone when he called to confirm my slot that that was where I’d sign up for any additional dates.
As I looked around, hoping to spot someone who might be able to help, I felt a hand wrap around my wrist. Startled, I instantly pulled my hand away and whirled around, my heart beating wildly in my chest.
It was Max with a stupid cocky smirk on his face that only made me want him more.
“Looking for something?” he grumbled.
I ignored his attitude even though it was turning me on faster than if I thought of his sexy face between my legs, his gaze locked on mine while he licked my pussy like it was the best damn thing he ever tasted.
Fuck. That didn’t help.
Suddenly, my panties felt a lot damper, and the urge to squeeze my legs together and create some friction on my pussy was almost too much to bear.
“Yes. The schedule book. I wanted to book some more time slots.” I smiled and tried desperately to ignore his tantalizing scent; a spicy woodsy cologne that made me want to lick his neck.
Max took a step closer.
Dammit, he isn’t helping.
“You’re a talented musician. I’m surprised you’re not producing records by now.”
Did he need to stand so close? I’m ready to explode.
I swore my heart beat so loud, Max must’ve heard its crazy pitter-patter. I swallowed hard. “Not everyone can live their dream.”
Max studied me for a moment, and his eyes searched mine. I knew a curious look when I saw one. Too bad he couldn’t research me on the internet. I had no online trail. Privacy was the one thing I didn’t want to give up if I ever reached my dream.
“If you try hard enough, the possibilities are endless.”
He took another step closer, and my hot, yearning desire burned through my veins.
But at the same time, his statement annoyed me. What in the hell was he getting at? “Yeah, well, when you become a single mom, your priorities shift, and possibilities end up on hold.”
Max said nothing. The silence grew between us until a door slammed, and Don appeared. Max distanced himself before Don could see, and his cocky smirk returned.
The whole exchange between us was weird and left me feeling off. What was Max trying to get at? If that was his way of complimenting someone, it wasn’t very friendly. He didn’t know me or my circumstances.
“Max, you ready to get out there? You’re up, boss,” Don stated before patting Max on the back.
Max is performing tonight? I thought he didn’t play anymore…
Nothing in my research said he played at his own bar.
My mind swirled with a thousand questions.
With a deep breath, I pushed them all to the side and shifted my attention away from Max. “Hey, Don, can you show me where that schedule book is?”
“Sure thing, Gemma. Follow me,” Don said with a wave of his hand.
Before Max could utter a word, I took off after Don, curiosity settling deep in my bones.
After booking more time slots, I didn’t leave. Instead, I watched Max perform.
He played insanely well, and I had the same questions for him. Why wasn’t he selling records? He could make it on his own. That was how good he was.
When the performance was over, I waited for him to exit the stage. When he saw me, he flashed me that same cocky smirk. I wanted to smack it, no kiss it, off his face.
“I know, I suck,” Max teased.
I placed my hands on my waist and stuck one hip out. I echoed his same words from earlier. “You’re a talented musician. I’m surprised you’re not producing records.”
Max’s eyes grew dark and narrowed. “Yeah, well, guess that wasn’t in the cards for me either,” he snapped.
Somehow, his rude tone didn’t deter me. In fact, it was a turn-on. Everything about him was a turn-on. And that was what pissed me off. He had no right being so damn sexy.
“If you try hard enough, anything’s possible, right?”
Max chuckled. A low, deep growl-like sound that vibrated straight through my core. “You think you’re being funny?” He stepped closer again, this time our bodies brushing together.
“Nope. Just offering some…advice, I’d say. Have a good night, Max. Thanks again for the opportunity to play.” I turned to leave, yet there was his hand wrapped around my wrist again.
This time, he pulled me flush against him, one of his hands resting on my lower back as he pressed our bodies together.
As the last call lights in the bar came on, Max kissed me in front of everyone.
The mysterious, grumpy bartender kissed me.
And I loved every delicious second of it.