I pulled the salad from the bag along with a few flimsy paper products. “We don’t have to dirty any plates. They gave us a few supplies.”
“No way! We have to try out my dishes. I have the real deal, and I’ve never used any of it. Humor me.” He uncapped two beers, handed one to me, and tapped his to it. “Cheers.”
I took a swig but kept my gaze on his ass when he turned to open a nearby drawer. He wore basic black sweats and a snug tee again. The cotton clung to his toned arms and lean torso—and since when were sweatpants sexy attire? Jesus, this was getting out of hand.
I licked my lips and put my beer aside, skirting the island in search of dishes while Johnny chatted amicably about appliances. Maybe. I only followed every other word. I was too busy checking out his tattooed forearms, the graceful bend of his wrist, and his calloused fingertips. He served himself and motioned for me to do the same before flopping onto one of the barstools.
“The delivery guy was funny. He hooked up my new washing machine, tossed a clipboard at me to sign…bored with his life, bored with his job, bored with me. Until he walked down the hall and stopped in front of my in-home studio—you know, the room where I blew you last week,” he confirmed around a bite of pizza.
I raised a brow as I sat beside him. “I remember.”
Johnny grinned. “Suddenly, I had a new best friend. It was cool talking guitars for ten minutes, but then he wanted to know if I was in a band and the second I told him I played for Zero, shit got weird.”
“How so?”
“He asked for my autograph and made a comment about tattooing it on his hip.” He widened his eyes comically, adding, “Low on his hip. I swear he was on the verge of unbuckling his belt to show me where, too.”
I frowned. “Your deliveryman made a pass at you? You need to report him.”
“No, it wasn’t like that. He was just really fucking excited to meet me once he realized who I was. Like I was a big deal,” he scoffed.
“You are a big deal. I don’t know a lot about music, but I’ve heard your songs on the radio, and I’ve overheard younger people talk about Zero.”
“Not old guys like you, eh?”
I knit my brow, swallowing a bite of pizza. “Hmph. I meant the club set. On average, they’re somewhere between twenty-one and thirty-five, and they definitely know Zero. Even though I fired his ass, Justin is a legend at Vibes because he used to bartend for me.”
Johnny snickered. “Why’d you fire him, again?”
“He showed up late all the damn time. Justin didn’t want to be a bartender, he wanted to be a rock star.”
“And now he is.”
“So are you.”
“According to my delivery guy, that might be true,” he said with a laugh. “You know, Justin still kind of hates you.”
I snorted. “Not my problem. Vibes is a business.”
“And you’re a businessman. Makes sense.” Johnny gave me a side-eyed look I couldn’t quite read. He picked a pepperoni off another slice of pizza and popped it into his mouth.
“Hmm. Why are you looking at me like that?”
He shifted to face me. “I’m trying to figure you out. You want something from me.”
“Guitar lessons,” I said, wiping my fingers on my napkin.
“Right,” he replied suspiciously.
“You wouldn’t have a conversation on the phone like a normal person, so—”
“Normal people don’t talk on the phone, Sean. They text.”
“I’m sure you make exceptions in case of an emergency.”
Johnny quirked an amused half smile. “Is this an emergency?”
“Well…not exactly,” I admitted.
“Hmm. I didn’t think so. I also don’t really think guitar lessons are your priority. But I’m willing to play along. When did Parker ask for my number?”
“He didn’t. He must have taken it off my cell.”
Johnny inclined his head. “Cool. That means he’s really interested. Good sign. It also means he probably didn’t care that I kissed you…assuming Penny told on us.”
“She did.” I picked up my fork and stabbed a piece of lettuce. “He didn’t say a word. But Penny will probably tell her mom too and any moment now, the hammer of doom will fall.”
Johnny threw his head back and laughed. “Dramatic much?”
“I am when it comes to my family. Fiona is fine, but our relationship is strained. Gays are cool and I’m cool, but it’s a little less cool that I’m gay…if you know what I mean. If she thinks you’re my boyfriend, she may come up with a laundry list of reasons it wouldn’t be a good idea for you to teach Parker. I don’t know that for a fact because we don’t talk about my gayness, but that’s the gist.”
“Wait. Are you gay or bi?”