Page 37 of Combust (Everyday Heroes 2)
He angles his head and stares, trying to judge if he should believe me or not. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Believe it or not, Jett, not all women find you irresistible.”
“Yes, they do.” I groan at his arrogance. “Baby, you know I’m joking.”
“Don’t ‘baby’ me and don’t insult my intelligence.” He holds his hands up as he takes a few steps back. “I asked it once, and I’ll ask it again. What are you doing here, Jett, because if it’s an attempt to take me back to Los Angeles, you can turn around and go out that door you just entered without asking.”
Ignoring me, he walks into the living room and takes his time looking around, picking up a photo of Grady and his brothers from the bookshelf and staring at it for a beat. I wait as he sets it down and moves to the window so he can check out the backyard where the trees are close and the hills covered with grapevines are in the distance. He walks toward the hallway and pushes open my b
edroom door to peer inside before turning back and facing me.
Just like Jett to walk around like he owns the place.
“The label wants to know our progress,” he finally says and runs a hand through his hair. The D major note tattooed on his inner bicep jumps at the motion and draws my eyes. The one he got because he said he never would have hit the big time and become “major” if it weren’t for me. The D note is for my initial.
“You could have called. We can discuss our progress over the phone. Just like we did when you were touring while we were writing the last album.”
“Nah. You know I prefer to write with you face to face. Plus, I wanted to see you.”
“Jett . . .” My voice trails off when I see his bag dropped by the front door. “Why is your bag here?”
“I can’t stay in town.”
“Why not? There’s no Four Seasons you can trash and get kicked out of?”
“That’s not it. There isn’t really anything here that compares to—”
“Oh, I forgot. You’re too good for the little people these days, just like you were too good for me.”
“Bitter much?” He clenches his jaw. “Don’t be a jerk, Dylan.”
“Pot meet kettle.” I raise my eyebrows.
“I can’t stay in town because it will attract press, and then the press will figure out you’re here and wonder if we’re still together. I mean, why would you stay here while I’m staying in a hotel?”
“That isn’t my problem. You’re a big boy. You can figure out how to smooth it over.”
“So what? You want me to let the press know, and then I can field more questions about where you are like I had to the other day?”
“What do you mean like you had to the other day?” Now he’s got my attention.
“Kai was asking where you were. Callum stopped by to check in and was surprised he didn’t see you. Then he called Ava. I think.” He shrugs, referring to the label’s very hands-on CEO.
“Why was Callum there?”
“Because they have a shit-ton of money riding on me delivering and the person they’re depending on helping deliver it wasn’t there?” He chuckles. “That would be my best bet.”
Asshole.
“Were you pulling your usual I’m Jett Kroger bullshit and being difficult for everyone to work with?”
“You mean was I risking our album?”
We stare at each other as I ask without words and the slight curl up of his lips tells me all I need to know. Of course he was. A tiger can’t change his stripes, and yet I’m still not convinced if Jett’s telling me the truth or not.
I don’t bite.
“I was on my best behavior, Dylan. If I’m trying to win you back, why would I purposely screw things up for you?” he asks, voice and smile softening.
