Page 52 of Just What She Needed

"Hey, bro." The Alabama accent rumbled down the line. "Ferrari or Lamborghini?"

"Hello, Ross," Rhett said. "I'm Rhys's friend Rhett."

Ross didn't miss a beat. "So, you're Rhett, huh? I'm a big fan of your song."

Heat rushed into her cheeks, but she couldn't repress a grin. "Thank you. I worked hard on that song." Ignoring the twin bursts of laughter from both Rhys and Ross, she continued. "Look, I realize this whole car thing has pushed the national news to the back page, but Rhys and I are trying to have a date here, and these constant texts are distracting."

"Writing another verse, are you?"

"What, you want pictures or something?" Maybe it was the anonymity of the phone, or maybe it was that country-boy accent, but Rhett didn't feel like she was talking to one of the most transcendent rock guitarists in the world. She was as comfortable speaking to him as she would to one of Mel's boyfriends.

"Baby, I would love pictures. But as territorial as Rhys acted about you when we were in Canada, I kinda think he'd have a problem with that. So what's up?"

Territorial? Rhys acted territorial about her? She cut her eyes at him and swallowed down a whoop of delight.

"What's up is asking you to please take his name off that group text, okay? Seriously, Ross, the damn phone's been pinging in my ear the whole time I've been talking to you. We can't even eat a slice of pizza, much less write any more songs with that kind of crap going on."

"There's no way I can turn down such a sweet request," Ross said. "I'll take him off, but you tell him he can't complain if we decide to go with a '59 Edsel, awright?"

Rhett laughed. "An Edsel? Really, Ross. At least go for a Tucker. 'Bye."

Not one minute after she disconnected the call, a text popped up on the screen, one composed by Ross Kellum.

I just got a call from Rhett. Yes, THAT Rhett, and boys, she's worth all the shit the censors will give us over "Auto Erotic." Say bye to Rhys, y'all. He's busy right now.

"What the hell?" Rhys asked as the phone went nuts with notifications.

"Just the rest of them telling you goodnight." Rhett laughed under her breath. "And David just asked me out."

"I warned him," Rhys said. "I'm going to kick his arse if he doesn't stop it."

A worried frown puckered her brow as she put his phone in the center console. "He's kidding, isn't he?"

"Can't really tell with David. That's the problem."

"Well, he's cute, but he's not my type." Rhett grinned when Rhys's dark expression lightened. "I go for tall, hot lead singers, you know. Oh, and by the way, did you really name that song 'Auto Erotic'?"

"Of course I did. Most of it took place right there in that back seat. And will you look at this? Here we are in the parking garage again."

"Rhys, honey? That's song's been written." Rhett glanced around as if all the building's residents might be standing there with accusing stares. "I'm still amazed we didn't get caught." A thought occurred to her, and she sat up straight. "Hey! Does that count as having sex in public?"

"No, it doesn't. In fact, it doesn't even come close." Rhys turned the car back on again and put it in gear.

Rhett's mouth went dry, and a fine shiver ran through her body. "Where are we going?"

"No idea. I'll know when I see it, though."

"After this afternoon?" She stared at him, open-mouthed. "What are you, forty-eight or twenty-eight?"

The car jolted to a stop, and he turned to face her. "Now that hurts." Despite his stern expression, there was a gleam in his eye. "I was going to start you out easy, but just for that I'm going to find a place with a maximum chance of discoverability."

"Discoverability?" Irked by the way her voice squeaked, she cleared her throat and tried again. "What do you mean by that?"

Rhys rested one arm on the steering wheel and leaned his upper body towards her. "I mean that I'm going to fuck you right into oblivion, Beautiful, and every second you'll be aware that we could be discovered at any moment."

"Oh." The muscles between her legs clenched, and she went a bit light-headed.

"And since you've inferred that I'm too old to make you lose your mind more than once a day—”