Page 57 of Silver Sweet

“If you saw him, you’d understand, dude. Guy’s a twelve out of ten. Anyone with eyes would nosedive into a landfill for him.”I lean over, my shoulder brushing against his chest, to grab my Martin off the pillow.

Phoenix doesn’t stop me.

My pulse is climbing as my arm scrapes against his muscled body. I clear my throat. “And he’s always available. No matter what day or time, if I call him for a quickie, he comes over.”

“Maybe he’s jobless and living in his mom’s basement. Ever consider that?”

I did not. “I…I think he works.”

“You don’t know?” Phoenix’s brows hike. “Tom, you’re not serious. You’re fucking a guy off-and-on for…” He waits for me to fill him in.

“Two years.”

Phoenix looks at me like I’ve lost it again. “Two years. And you don’t even know what he does for a living?”

“My family runs background checks on anyone who spends time with their kids, so he definitely passed that at least.”Shit.I wince as Phoenix starts putting the dots together.

His eyes darken on me. “You did a background check on me, nepo baby?” Wow, the nickname feels super fitting at the moment.

I run a hand through my shaggy hair, holding the guitar on my lap with the other. “Technically, my parents did. They found an arrest, but nothing I’m sweating about. My brothers, on the other hand, might be a little more…”Stop talking, Tom Carraway.

“A little more what?”

“On edge. You’ll have to earn their trust.”

“I’m not earning their anything,” Phoenix growls. “I couldn’t care less what your rich brothers think about me.”

Awesome. “Yeah, okay. That’s your funeral, dude.”

He snatches my guitar off my lap. He sets it aside on my pillow again, and I blow out an annoyed breath. “Why do youkeep doing that? At some point, I’m going to have to play to create new music.”

“I’ll give it back to you when we have something to play. Right now, it’s distracting me. You keep strumming it every five seconds.”

Do I?

I bend forward, elbow on my knee. “Why don’t we write about your ex,” I suggest. “The college one.”

The look in his eye could wither all of Ben’s plants. And it’s not directed at me. It’s aimed at the bedspread.

Fire ignites inside my lungs. I have no fucking clue what this dude did to him, but I’m imagining fun ways to make his life miserable. “Should we slash his tires? Fork his yard?”

“Sure, we can egg his door next too,” he says dryly.

“I’m open to egging.” I take his sarcasm and run. “Two cartons or three? I’ll buy since I’m loaded. Obviously.”

“Obviously.” He gives my arm a small push, and every muscle in my body responds like he’s slid on top of me. He adds, “I can afford a carton of eggs.”

“Obviously.”

His lips tic upward, then they flatline as he admits, “I already wrote about my ex. ‘Tragic Hold’—ever listened to it?”

Holy.

Shit.

“Yeah…” I nod in a daze. “Over the radio. On accident.”

“Bullshit,” he calls me out.