Page 25 of Driving Beats

I move backward, my gaze trained on the shoes on his feet. They appear to fit. He doesn’t pull a face when he takes a step, so they’re probably comfortable. “How do they feel?”

“They’re good.”

“Good as in ‘this burger’s good’ or ‘they will make me standout on the dance floor’ good.” Because these shoes are definitely for the latter.

“Dance floor?” He returns to the chair.

“You know. When you’re at a VIP area after a concert. There’s always dancing and a dance floor. Would these be comfortable there?”

He takes them off, returning his feet into those dreadful sneakers. “They didn’t pinch anywhere. I suppose I could change my outfit after a gig and wear these.”

I clap twice. “I’m so glad to hear this! Look at you? Making progress and it’s only been two days!”

“Don’t get too excited over there.” He stands, holding the shoes. “Besides, aren’t we almost done?”

Together, we approach the register. “Uhm, no. Do you have anything to wear to the retreat? Running errands so you don’t come across as a bum off the street when you buy a latte? How about a nice dinner out?”

His shoulders lower. “I don’t have it in me to do all that today. Hell, I’m sort of finished.” He gives the cashier his new shoes, and he rings them up.

“I understand. We’ll take this as slowly as you want. I’ve got all month!”

Coop stops.

I push past him, praying he’ll overlook this slip of tongue.

Several days pass. Coop now has many new pieces in his wardrobe from various categories—casual, dining out, clubbing. He has four pairs of shoes plus sneakers. However, no true outfits. He needs completing items like belts, earrings. Sunglasses! He could do with a new pair as well.

We’re at a bathing suit shop. Hell, he lives in LA, bathing suits are a requirement. He’s now in the dressing room with several board shorts, trunks, and shorts.

“Do I really have to show you these on me?”

I strum my fingers against my thigh. “Yes. I need to evaluate the fit and we have to discuss the various colors, prints, and styles. Come on out.”

Coop opens the dressing room door and strides out toward me. He’s wearing board shorts that fit him perfectly. I make him do a three-sixty, not because I need it, but because it’s fun. Trying to get him into “model mode.”

Once he’s facing me again, I realize the joke’s on me. He’s ripped, with a V that always does things to my insides. He’s manscaped, his chest only showing a smattering of light brown hair, and he sports the UC necklace Jenna gave to all the band members ages ago. I had forgotten he was hiding this under those dreadful clothes, since he certainly doesn’t take his shirt off when he’s jamming on his guitar.

Only Río does that. On the drums.

Exasperated, Coop asks, “Well. What do you think?”

Better collect my thoughts. “These look tailor-made for you. I like the pattern.” My fingers touch the waistband. “Do they feel good in the waist?” His muscles ripple.

“Yeah,” he squeaks. Followed up by a more manly, “Yes. They do.”

Needing to clear my mind, I walk around him this time. Clap twice. “These are keepers. You’ll give the boys at Muscle Beach a run for their money!”

He chuckles. “Let’s not go that far. I don’t live to work out like they do.”

“True. You live to wail on the guitar!” I up his chuckle with a full-on belly laugh, which relieves the tension. “Now try on the other bathing suits. As I mentioned, you should have a minimum of three, preferably five. UC goes to a lot of warm climes, and you don’t want to be photographed in the same suit too often.”

“Oh the horror.” Coop returns to the cubicle to change.

I retake my seat outside, amazed at how funny he is. Such a departure from my original impression.

Wearing a surprised expression, the woman sitting next to me asks. “Did you mention Untamed Coaster?”

“Sure did.” I lean closer. “I’m here with their guitarist.”