Listen To Me (Fusion #1)(8)

“I can work with that.”

She nods and then tips her head back and laughs. Her voice is raspy and just as sexy as the rest of her.

“Did I just hire Jake Knox?”

“No, ma’am, you just hired Jake Keller.” I sigh and rub my hand over my mouth, remembering that I haven’t shaved in about a week. I must look real professional, walking in here in questionably clean jeans and black T-shirt, unshaven, hair a f*cking mess because I’m pretty sure I just ran my fingers through it before I left the house this morning.

But Addie just chews that lip again, then nods. “Okay, you can start this Friday and we’ll see how it goes.”

“Is this an audition?” I ask with surprise.

“Everyone auditions, Mr. Keller,” she replies and rests her hands on her hips. “But it’s a mutual audition. I’ll see if you’re a fit for us, and you’ll see if we’re a fit for you.”

Oh, I’m pretty sure the fit will be just fine, sweetheart.

“Sounds good. I’ll be here at nine thirty on Friday night to set up.”

“Great. You can just come back here to the bar. I’ll meet you here and show you around.”

I nod and shove my hands in my pockets, suddenly nervous for the first time since I was a kid, which kind of annoys me and makes me smile all at the same time.

“Now that that’s settled,” I say and hold her pretty blue eyes with mine. “How about if I take you out for a drink after closing Friday night?”

She blinks for a moment, not moving, then shakes her head and laughs, looks at her shoes and then back up at me.

“Let me make something perfectly clear,” she begins, speaking clearly. “I’m not a part of this offer. Nor will I ever be. I’m your boss, that’s it. Not to mention, I am in a relationship.”

“Idiot woman,” Red mutters behind the bar, but Addie ignores her.

“Understood,” I reply respectfully, but can’t help but feel a moment of regret.

Addison is one beautiful woman.

I have a feeling she’s much more than that, but she belongs to someone else, so it doesn’t really matter.

And why in the f*ck does it matter to me anyway? Jesus, has it really been that long since I got laid?

“I’ll see you Friday night.”

“Yes, you will,” she replies and immediately turns her back on me, sauntering back to the bar in those amazing f*ck-me heels, her ass swaying the whole way.

I can’t wait to see her Friday night.

I wave at Red and walk back out the way I came. The restaurant is filling up with lunch patrons. When I hit the sidewalk outside, I call Christina.

“Miss me already?” There’s a smile in her voice.

“Desperately. And, I think I just got a job.”

“You went?” She squeals and then relays the information to her husband, Kevin, before returning to me. “And you got the job?”

“Of course I got the job.”

“Did the manager recognize you?”

“Yes, but something tells me I got the job despite my music history, not because of it.”

“Interesting. I like her already.”

“So do I.”

THE DRIVE TO my home west of Portland via the Sunset Highway only takes about thirty minutes from downtown. That’s one of the things that I love about this city: you can go from bustling city to lazy suburb in just half an hour.

I bought a house on three acres in the rolling hills outside of Hillsboro about four years ago. It’s gated, and monitored closely by security. The main house is bigger than I’ll ever need, but it was the pool and, most important, the pool house that made me fall in love with it.

I love to swim, and I work out in the pool every single day I’m home. My best friend, and cofounder of Hard Knox, Max Bishop and I converted the pool house into a full studio and partnered up to begin Hard Knox Productions. Since starting business two years ago, I’ve had everyone from U2 to Usher in my studio, laying down tracks, writing songs.

Making music.

The music feeds my soul and has since I was nine and got my first guitar for Christmas. It’s a magic I haven’t been able to duplicate or replace with anything else. And for a little while, when I thought I’d abandon music altogether, it felt like I was living in purgatory.

A necessary purgatory, but f*ck, how it hurt.

I park and jog around back, bypassing the house altogether, and am not surprised to find Max already at work when I walk into the studio.

“You’re late,” he mutters, then bites his pencil and tickles the keys of the baby grand in the corner that looks out over the pool.

“I got a job,” I announce and lean on the piano, reading the music lying in front of Max.

“Who’s coming now? I thought Maroon 5 had to postpone, since Adam has to tape the auditions for his show.”

“No, a regular gig job.”

His head jerks up, and for just a moment, there is so much hope in his eyes, it makes my chest hurt. “You got the band a gig?”

“No.” I shake my head and stare at the top of the piano. “There’s a new restaurant in town that needs a weekend musician. I’m going to do it.”

Max doesn’t say anything for a long moment. “Who are you?”