Play (Stage Dive, #2)(23)

Written By: Kylie Scott



“Morning,” I said, standing tall.

Mal gave me a brief cranky look over his shoulder. As nice as the couch was, I’d probably be in a bad mood if I’d slept on it too. Maybe that was why he’d stayed up so late. He’d ordered another bed for the spare room, but for some reason it had yet to arrive. Tonight, I’d ask if he wanted to share with me. Just as friends.

His shoulders were distractingly large with his hands on his hips. I was no lightweight, but if he was willing to stand with his arms out, I’d give climbing him a try. Years back, before all the shit with mom, I’d been different, braver. Something about Mal reminded me of the adrenaline-junkie tomboy I’d been. I missed that girl. She’d been fun.

“You woke her, asswipe.” For once, Mal didn’t sound the least bit light and easy as he gave Reece hell. “Do you have any idea how stressful shit’s been for her lately? Plus she had to work late last night.”

And as relaxed as Reece was about work, that comment was not good. “Mal, it’s okay. This is my friend and my boss, Reece.”

“Reece?” He sneered. “This is who you were talking to on your phone at the party?”

“Yes.”

“Huh. Figured it was a chick.”

“Guess again.” Reece pushed his way past the mostly naked drummer to shove a box of donuts into my arms. Voodoo Donuts. My saliva glands kicked into overdrive despite the early hour and manly standoff.

To be fair, partly also because of it, yes.

“What the f*ck is going on, A? Who is this *?”

“Reece, not cool.”

His bloodshot eyes blazed angrily, his dark hair sticking out. The scent of stale perfume lingered around him like a miasma. I’d also question his sobriety because his movements seemed a bit off. Here was a man who had not yet been to bed.

At least, not his own bed.

“A?” asked Mal, crossing his arms over his chest. He turned and winked at me. “You call her ‘A’? What, saying her whole name’s too much of a commitment for you?”

I barked out a laugh. Then attempted to turn it into a cough. Reece didn’t look convinced, but I didn’t care. Relief made me weak in the knees. My Mal was back, cracking jokes and smiling. A real smile this time, not the harsh manic parody from the night before.

It was amazing. I could actually see Reece’s hackles rising. Mal might have had a good half a head on him, but violence was not out of the question. Meanwhile, Mal just looked amused. The depth to which he didn’t give a f*ck was actually a large part of his charm. I’d never met anyone like him.

Not to say he wouldn’t throw down with Reece. I had no doubt the man could handle himself.

“Why don’t I make coffee?” I took a hesitant step toward the tiny kitchen, hoping someone would follow. Either one of them would do. Neither made a move so I stayed put.

Reece’s brows drew tight together. “Even for a hookup you can do a hell of a lot better.”

“What?” Not only was it an extraordinarily rude thing to say, it wasn’t even remotely true.

“You heard me.”

“Shit, Reece, how can you even …” I stared at Mal, frowned, and cocked my head. So much skin. I looked and looked until I hit the dusting of dark blond hair leading down from his belly button, heading straight for No-Anne Land. He had a treasure trail. A map to hidden delights. The donut box trembled in my hands.

I could and should avert my eyes. But I didn’t.

“Anne?” Reece demanded angrily, dragging me out of my porny daydreams.

“Um …” Yes, such was my genius statement.

“There’s the crazy eyes,” said Mal in a low, rough voice. “Looks like my pumpkin is ready for round six of the sexin’.”

Oh. Crap. He didn’t.

Reece’s forehead furrowed, his fingers curling into fists.

Alright, so he did.

I crushed the box of donuts against my chest. “That’s a really sweet offer, Mal.”

“Pumpkin, if you’re still walking straight, my work here is clearly not done. Hell, we haven’t even gotten around to breaking in the new couch yet.” He turned to Reece, enjoying himself way too much if the light in his eyes was any indicator. “She’s worried we’d stain the material. Like I wouldn’t just buy her another, right? Women.”

No answer from Reece apart from the white lines around his mouth.

Mal exhaled hard. “Next time let’s stick to leather. Wipe clean is so much easier and it won’t chafe your soft skin nearly as much as you think, Anne. Not if we–”

“Enough,” I barked, feeling the cardboard box cave in.

“Too much sex talk in front of friends?”

I nodded.

“Sorry,” said Mal. “Real sorry. My bad.”

So much hostility in such a confined space. And there was no question, Reece was genuinely jealous. He was all puffed up and radiating fury. His gaze shifted between Mal and me, mouth fierce.

You have to understand, before now, I hadn’t been entirely certain Reece even realized I was female. Yet here he was, edging toward me as if I was territory to be protected. Something Mal didn’t intend to allow if his side-stepping maneuver meant anything. It was like some strange animalistic caveman dance, the two of them slowly hemming me in. Amusing in a way.