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“First of all, what the fuck does that word even mean?” I grit out.

“You’re drooling,” he says. “Next thing we know, you’ll be writing her name on your notebook when the teacher’s not looking.”

He’s a grown-ass man and one who is entirely indispensable to me. But he takes great pleasure in pissing me the fuck off.

“I don’t know if you realize this or if your skull is just that thick,” I go off. “But I’ve just invested an enormous amount of money in ME. That company comes with a lot of moving parts and a lot of employees. It’s a lot of responsibility and stress on top of the empire that I am already running. I don’t have time for distractions of any kind, definitely not relationships.”

“Wait, it’s serious enough for a relationship?!” he blurts out. And I am going to hit him. Right here in the middle of it all, I am going to hit my best friend square in his cocky jaw. I am going to be the one responsible for the building catching fire and the event being ruined.

“Aren’t you listening to a damn word I am saying?”

But Tuck just checks. “Yeah, yeah. I’m listening. You’re saying that you’re into this girl, but you can’t be because it would be too distracting and blah blah blah. So on and so forth. But what I don’t understand is why you can’t just be…involved…with her, you know? Work together in the public’s eye and then when nobody’s looking…well…you know.”

“No. I don’t know, because I’m not going to let that happen again,” I say and immediately regret it.

Tuck’s already amused eyes light up like a Christmas tree. “So you have…”

“Once. Maybe twice. Ish. It’s complicated. But it’s over. No more.”

“Right,” he says. “Do you think you can do that? Stay away from her, I mean?”

“Of course I can,” I answer. “It’s just going to take some willpower.”

Before Tuck can say anything else, his attention is drawn to an obnoxiously loud guy at the bar. He’s trying to order another drink that he obviously doesn’t need, but isn’t listening to the bartender who is trying to cut him off.

“Break’s over,” I tell Tuck with a smirk, and he sighs before leaving me alone.

I’m alone, but his words stick with me. He’s not wrong. I am a bit…focused…on her. And that’s not a good thing. Because I meant it when I said I have too much on my plate for distractions. I decide then that I should talk to her. She deserves an explanation of how working together is going to look from here on out. One thing is for sure: she has to stop mouthing off. Not only does it make me look bad when she undermines my authority like that, but it gets me kind of hot. And that gets me in trouble.

I need to nip that in the bud now.

After scouring the event floor, I finally find Natalie in the back behind the music setup. The bands are switching out, which means I have about five minutes before the room will be too loud to talk to her without yelling and causing a scene.

She’s literally standing in a corner with her back to me, looking over the tablet. I stand behind her, and I know she can feel it. She whips around with a gasp and groans.

“Ugh! Ash, you scared me!” she all but shouts. She did it again, used that name, the one I told her not to use anymore. “Do you need something?”

“Do I need something?” I ask. “I’m your boss,” I remind her. Again.

“Do you need something, sir?” she asks, and there it is again. That little attitude that I am not going to tolerate…at least not in public.

I move my hand to her cheek, my fingers tangling in her hair, my palm on her cheek, my thumb on her lips, pulling her bottom lip down. Natalie gasps, though this time there’s a hint of excitement in it.

“I think we need to have a little chat,” I tell her. Then my eyes trail from hers down to her parted lips, and I can feel her leaning in. I can feel our mouths nearing each other. It’s magnetic. Impossible to fight and–

There’s a clamor behind us as someone comes around the corner, and we jump apart before he can see anything.

“Sorry to interrupt, but we are looking for whoever is in charge?”

It’s someone from the band.

“That’s me. I’m Marcus Ashford,” I say.

“It’s about the soundboard,” he says. “We prefer to use our own equipment.”

“So hook up your own equipment,” I say casually. Because I do not give a fuck. And I’m a little pissed that Natalie and I were just interrupted.

“Great. I’ll let the band know. It’s just going to take us about twenty minutes to set up with sound check and everything. That okay?”