Wicked Torture (Stark World 3)

The beautiful thing is that I don't even have to walk away from Crown Consulting. With Maia coming on as my partner, she can run the shop while I'm gone, and I'll chime in as needed from Los Angeles or the road.

In other words, the Stark job would give me the chance to make it in the career that Noah stole from me . . . and also in the one he pushed me toward. Because before he broke my heart and killed my muse, he'd been my biggest fan and my most vocal cheerleader.

But without the income from this job, I can't afford to take time off. I can still plan the Pink Chameleon revival, but it will take longer and be messier.

If the dice roll that way, then I'll deal with it. But if I actively screw it all up by walking away from the Stark job . . .

Well, Ares is right. Celia will go all Game of Thrones on me, and I'll be her very best decapitated friend.

"Of course, if you don't get the job--or you decide you don't want the job--my offer still stands."

I roll my eyes. Ares has repeatedly asked me to go on tour with Seven Percent. Historically, they've been a fully male group, though I wouldn't call them a boy band any more than The Police or The Rolling Stones were boy bands back in the day. But now he wants a female lead singer in the mix. One who, like me, can also play guitar when vocals aren't an issue.

I won't deny that I'm tempted, but Pink Chameleon is my baby. And if there's a chance of reviving it, that's a chance I'm taking.

A terrifying chance, sure. But I'm finally ready for it. At least, I think I am. And this job will help me get there.

I look up at Ares, and he grins, obviously seeing my conclusion on my face.

"It's going to be crazy working with Noah," I say.

"You're both adults. It'll be fine."

Sure. Right. I bob my head as I consider. "Maybe," I admit. "And maybe it'll even be nice to get to know him again. I mean, I've always admired his work ethic. I'll probably learn a lot."

"When will you hear?"

I automatically glance toward the kitchen and the clock that flashes on the microwave, though I don't know why. Neither Noah nor Stark gave a specific time. "They said they'd make notifications today," I tell Ares. "I'm not sure when."

"Then let's go out. Get your mind off it. It's a gorgeous day. Want to take the bikes out?" I live in South Austin near the Ladybird Wildflower Center and the Austin Veloway.

I consider that, decide it's a damn good plan, and tell him so. "Give me ten to change."

I'm back in leggings and one of my favorite sport tanks with a built-in bra. It's November, and the weather is brisk. But it's also Austin, which means that brisk is pretty tame. I'll grab a jacket on my way out the door, but I'll probably end up tying it around my waist when I get warm on the bike.

Ares is already changed into biking shorts--which reminds me why I slept with him that one and only time--and a Seven Percent T-shirt. "Ready?" He passes me my water bottle as we head to the door.

"Let's hit Magnolia for lunch on the way home," I say as we reach my door. I'm looking at him as I pull it open, and so I'm completely unprepared when I turn back to the doorway and see Noah standing right there, his hand lifted to knock.

"Oh! Noah!"

Behind me, Ares moves over, obviously wanting to get a view of who's in the door. "Right," he says. "I'll be in the bedroom."

And then the bastard abandons me.

"Sorry about showing up unannounced," Noah says. "I should have called." He lifts his hand higher, and I'm certain he's about to run his fingers through his hair. But he checks himself and puts his hand in his pocket. From the untidy state of his hair, I'm thinking that this is the first time this morning that he's resisted the urge.

"It's okay," I say, though I'm not sure it is. I'd been relaxed and confident only a few minutes before. Now I feel like a teenager talking with a crush.

Damn me.

I flash a professional smile. "What's up?"

It's a perfunctory question. He's here because of the job, of course. Because I got it, and he wants to tell me in person so that we can talk off-premises about working around any lingering awkwardness. And since I'm all for that, I flash an easy, welcoming smile. "You have news?"

"I do." He swallows, and I notice the way his eyes drift over me. I cross my arms, suddenly realizing how skin-tight my outfit is.

Noah clears his throat. "Um, right. Well, I thought it would be best to tell you in person."