Chapter 2
TWO
RONAN
After finishing my bourbon, I slipped from the bar through the back way the staff had shown me.
Most bars around here were cool like that.
It benefitted them to have celebrities frequent their places, and like me, they didn’t want a scene.
As I reached the outside alley, I called my Uber driver through Uber Exec, a high-end service.
The black SUV drove up to me, and after confirming the driver, I climbed into the back seat.
As I watched the bustle of the cars, people strolling sidewalks, and lights of the bars and restaurants pass, my thoughts returned to Evan Crosby, and my heart warmed.
My conversation with him had been easy and…
normal. Not filled with the usual gushing and pawing at me I had from fans backstage.
He’d felt genuine. He’d felt…queer, even though he’d stated firmly he wasn’t.
I planted my elbow on the armrest and my chin in my hand. I rarely got my signals mixed up like that. But he’d stuck by my side when I’d gotten close. Maybe he was just used to male affection like he’d said, having bisexual friends. Or maybe it was wishful thinking on my part.
I slipped my phone from my jeans pocket and opened the browser.
There was a certain calendar I needed to buy.
With a few taps, I found the team website and the link for the calendar.
I leaned back in the seat while I scrolled through the images of the players, well-oiled for the shoot, tough and muscled while wearing only their gear on their lower halves.
As Evan’s photo popped up, my breath caught.
My God, what was it about this man that drew me to him?
I ran my gaze across his tousled brown hair, longer on top, falling to mid-length on his ears and to the bottom of his neck.
His eyes were so blue in the photo…I bit my lip and shifted.
As my gaze roamed his muscled chest and the peaks of his nipples, my dick took notice.
Too bad there wasn’t a photo of his ass on here.
In the shorts he’d worn tonight, he’d had the tightest ass, and those fucking thighs.
Damn. My dick swelled to my hip and snagged in a fold of my jeans.
“Fucking hell.” I whispered and adjusted. It was unusual for me to be denied a person I wanted. But I doubted I’d see him again, and even if I did, I needed self-control. He’d clarified that he was straight. Even if he were curious about me. I had to honor that.
I purchased a calendar and set my phone on my lap.
Bean was waiting for me, and a song was brewing in the back of my head.
I might have a late night in the studio.
I’d have to call Drew in the morning so I could fully hash out this melody.
Had Evan inspired me? Maybe. A slow smirk spread on my lips.
The driver pulled the SUV into the circular driveway at my home.
After thanking him and exiting the vehicle, I peered at the house—its squarish architecture reminiscent of the Frank Lloyd Wright style, the stone veneer I added to some facades, and the warm glow from the lights at the front door, tucked under a portico.
I’d purchased the property a year ago, but every time I returned to it, it felt more like home.
With a sigh, I strolled to the front door, entered my code, and the lock clicked.
Bean would need to go outside as soon as possible.
As I entered, lights automatically flicked on, giving the room a calm radiance.
With warmth cradling my heart, I strode through the hallway and into Bean’s bedroom, set up with his kennel, extra beds, and plenty of toys.
I crouched in front of the metal cage to let him out.
He whimpered and wagged his tail as he stood.
As my lips quirked into a grin, I opened the cage and then my arms. “How are you, boy? Come to Daddy.” God, I loved this dog. Probably more than any people I’d ever met.
With his butt wiggling, he snorted and jumped into my arms, and then licked my face.
“Oh, yes, who’s a good boy?” As a soft chuckle escaped me, I set him down and patted my thigh, striding toward the main room and the closed doggy door leading into the patio and backyard, set inside a sliding glass door. I’d had the doggy door custom-made for him. Only the best for my buddy.
He followed behind me, snorting and huffing, his barrel-shaped body bouncing along.
“Go potty.” I slid the cover off the doggy door and watched him bound through it, the plastic slapping at the edges as it swung behind him.
Fuck, I’d seen a bobcat walking along the top of the wall surrounding the backyard yesterday.
As my pulse quickened, I swung the patio door open and jogged outside.
“Bean?” I scanned the yard for him, my gaze passing across the wicker patio furniture, gas fireplace, and the pool lined with palm trees.
Where the hell had he gone that quickly?
I stepped further into the yard, squinting into the darkness. There was no moon tonight. I should add some fucking lights out here. Cupping my mouth, I called, “Bean!” Where the hell was he? My heart raged against my rib cage.
With panting breaths, Bean trotted toward me, his tongue lolling from the front of his mouth as if he didn’t have a care in the world and hadn’t almost been mauled by a fucking bobcat.
“There you are. You little fucker.” I heaved a sigh as my heartbeat settled. I had to quit worrying about him so much, but fuck if I could help it. Shit happened, and I knew that too well.
Scooping him up as he approached me, I nuzzled his neck.
“You scared the hell out of me.” I tucked him into my chest and sauntered inside with him.
As I passed through the kitchen, I set him down and popped the lid off his treat jar, resting next to the sink on the kitchen island. “Bean, sit.” I leaned over him.
He plopped his ass on the tile floor and licked his chops—his gaze fixed on me.
“Good boy.” I pushed the treat under his nose. He knew better than to snatch it from me. I’d trained him while we were traveling on the bus and had time to kill.
He gently took the treat from my fingers and chewed, chomping at it.
“Okay, another drink for Daddy and some studio time.” I had to get this melody out of my head and into a recording. Reaching the bar in the main room, I poured a bourbon, then strolled toward my studio, sealed off from the outside world. It was my creative sanctuary.
Bean padded across the floor, following me.
I plucked my favorite guitar, a black Fender Telecaster, off a stand and plugged it into the amp resting in the room's corner, and then threw the strap over a shoulder.
Bean plopped onto his bed in the corner, his gaze finding mine.
“Yep, gonna be a long night, buddy.” I tuned the guitar, plucking strings and twisting the pegs. First, I’d work a few things out, then I’d record.
As buzzing filled the air, I fluttered my eyes open to the soft light in the studio. “Fuck.” I rolled on the leather couch, resting against one wall. What the hell was that?
My gaze found Bean, who lifted his head while lying on his bed.
The buzzing started again.
My phone. As I sat up, I wiped my eyes and then focused on the phone, vibrating on the Persian rug covering the floor.
Drew scrolled across the screen. With a smile, I answered the call, setting it on speaker.
“Yo.” What the hell time was it? I glanced toward the main room, sunshine lighting up the interior.
“Hey, Ronan. What are you doing?” Drew asked.
“Uh, waking up. What are you doing?” I’d recorded some good tracks last night. When could I get him here? “Are you dressed yet?” I rested my elbows on my thighs and scrubbed my face.
“Yeah, I’m dressed. Fuck, it’s like noon already. What the hell did you do last night?” He huffed a laugh.
“I had a song to get out.” He’d understand what that meant. “When can you get here? I want to work on it while it’s hot in my head.” I glanced at Bean. He’d need to go out again. Had I left the doggy door open?
“I can be there in an hour, but hey, I heard from Lily this morning,” he said.
“Yeah? What’s she planning for us?” Lily, our manager, only called when she wanted something from us, usually a gig. “We’re supposed to be resting.” I sighed.
Bean stretched his front legs forward, pushing his ass in the air, and then sauntered out of the room.
As I stood, I yawned and strolled behind him, flicking my gaze to the doggy door as he pounced through it. Yep, I’d left it open.
“I know, but this is a charity event, and it’s only acoustic, you and me. It’ll be easy and it’s for a good cause.” He breathed in deeply. “There’s a silent auction to help a figure skating school, and they’re looking for a bigger act to play.”
“Yeah? Figure skating, huh?” I liked figure skating when it was in the Olympics, and helping kids was always a bonus. I strolled into the kitchen, grabbed a glass from an upper cabinet, and poured filtered water from the spout by the sink. “When is this?”
“Next week.” He scoffed a laugh. “It’s a last-minute thing. I guess Lily wanted to help a buddy of hers, an NHL agent. They got to talking and figured we could help elevate the event.”
I snapped my brows up as my heart leapt. “NHL? Does this school have any connection to the Coyotes?” What were the chances? Would my hockey player be there? It didn’t matter. He wasn’t queer.
“Yeah, the goalie for the Coyotes is married to the figure skating coach. Have you heard of Ace McAdams?”
“I have.” I watched hockey occasionally, especially my home team, the Kracken. But now I had a newfound interest in the Coyotes. I stepped to the patio doors and ran my gaze across the yard.
Bean sniffed at the base of a tree, then lifted his leg.
Dude was taking his sweet time out there. “So, what day next week and where?” I sipped my water, and it coated my dry throat. I probably shouldn’t have had that last bourbon.