And then there was the sex. Lots and lots of sex.
But sometimes it was as though there was this extra layer between them. A line that Josh wouldn’t cross. When it came to her job, her life, her issues, he was always there to listen and advise. He could tease or seduce her out of a bad mood like nobody she’d ever met.
But it was a one-way street. His life remained strictly off-limits. She could barely get him to talk about his day at the gym or his latest song, much less anything deeper that had to do with his life.
And yet, her conversation with Logan Harris earlier in the week was still lingering. Instinct told her that Josh was the perfect man for the job—it also told her that he would enjoy it.
The question was whether or not he’d let himself enjoy it.
“It’s Trevor,” he blurted out. “That’s who’s calling.”
“Oh,” Heather said, blinking in surprise. “You don’t want to get it?”
“He thinks he found someone to buy my drum set.”
Heather blinked. “What do you mean? That drum set is yours? I thought it was what’s his name’s?’
Josh shook his head. “Nope. Mine. Everything in the practice room is mine; the guys just play it.”
“Ah. Are you thinking of replacing the set with something newer?” She tried to keep her voice casual, even though she was secretly thrilled he was opening up, even a little bit.
Instead of responding, he held up his phone. “You care if I order Thai?”
She bit back her disappointment. “No. Go for it.”
“Pad thai with shrimp, right? And spring rolls.”
“Yup, that’s great.” She pulled her iPad toward her, flicking it back on. “Hey, how’s your sister? She’s due about now, right?”
“Past due. Baby Josh is past due, but no sign yet.”
“Baby Josh?”
“It’s a girl, but I’m still holding out hope they’ll name her after her uncle. If the kid’s at all lucky, she’ll look like me.”
“Yes, that’s what all little girls dream of. To resemble an overgrown frat boy.”
He glanced up. “Overgrown frat boy?”
“Who’s good at sex. Really good. Did I not mention that bit?” she asked teasingly.
Josh didn’t smile back.
“Hey,” she said, reaching toward him, but he stood up abruptly, moving away from her.
“Would it be better if I wore suits all day? Walked around with my phone plastered to my face, rambling about shit that doesn’t matter?”
Heather blinked. “Um. Where is this coming from?”
“I’m thirty-three years old. Guess being called a boy isn’t exactly every adult male’s dream.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said quietly.
“How did you mean it?”
Uh-oh.
“I just meant you’re not on a typical path,” she said gently. “It’s not a bad thing.”
“I broke up the band.”
Whoa. What?
She shook her head. “Sorry, I’m getting conversational whiplash. Back up. What now?”
“It’s not a big deal. Trev and I talked about it a few nights ago. It’s just a hobby for the other guys, and we just don’t see it going anywhere unless we’re really going to give it our all, which we’re not. So . . .” He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Finito.”
“What about for you?” she asked. “I always got the impression you were pretty passionate about it.”
“I am. That won’t change. I just . . . I don’t know. It just felt right.”
Heather nodded. “As long as you’re happy with the decision.”
“Happy’s a stretch,” he said, tossing his phone on the table with a sigh. “It feels right, I just don’t know . . .”
He trailed off and Heather swallowed, deciding to take a risk. “You don’t know what to replace it with?”
His blue-green eyes snapped to hers. “Yeah. Something like that.”
“Well, what do you want to do?” she asked.
“I don’t know, 4C. Not all of us had our dream job lined up at the age of twelve, or whatever.”
“Fine,” she snapped, losing patience. “You want to have another of your sulking episodes, have at it, but do me a favor, and don’t bring up things you don’t want to talk about.”