Diving Into Him by Elizabeth Barone Page B

blur. Before Jett knew it, it was time to head over to the bar to set up and do a sound check. She stood in front of the bathroom mirror in her bedroom at the condo. Leaning over the counter, she applied a final layer of red lipstick. She blinked at her reflection with heavily lined eyes, lashes sooty black with mascara. She wore a simple white tank top and her favorite, most broken-in pair of jeans. Shifting from foot to foot, boots tapping on the tiled floor, she examined her reflection a final time.
    Leaving the bathroom, she moved into her bedroom. She opened her jewelry box and slid on several silver rings and a few silver chains in different lengths. Nodding in satisfaction, she took a deep breath. She was as ready as she was going to get.
    Knuckles rapped on the bedroom door. “Are you ready?” Koty called from the hall.
    Within just a few steps, she crossed the space between her dresser and the door. She opened it. Koty wore a Mastodon T-shirt and a pair of relaxed jeans. She shook her head at him. “We are not promoting another band.”
    He blinked at her with eyes as blue as the ocean. “They’re not even the same genre.”
    She made a turn around motion with her finger. “Go change. That’s bad juju.”
    Shaking his head, he stepped into his room. She heard drawers open and close as he hunted for another shirt to wear. “Are all musicians this superstitious, or just you?” he called to her. “Should we light candles and sacrifice baby goats while we’re at it?”
    She poked her head into his room. Heat flushed her cheeks. He stood with his shirt off, rifling through his drawers. His nipples were hard and the muscles of his abdomen rippled. She swallowed hard and looked away. “No sacrifices,” she said, her voice hoarse.
    He looked up, a T-shirt clutched in one hand. “What are your plans for after the show?” He held the shirt open, lifting an eyebrow at her.
    She glanced at the plain black tee and gave him a thumbs up. “Probably coming straight home and crashing. I’m wiped.”
    “We should celebrate.” He pulled the shirt on over his head.
    “I think the bar is doing karaoke after or something.” She shrugged. “I’m sure the guys will want to hang out and get drinks.”
    Koty’s mouth twitched, the dimples in his cheeks showing. “I meant you and I should do something.”
    Turning away from him, she headed toward the stairs. “I’ll probably be too tired to walk after,” she called over her shoulder. She descended as quickly as possible. Her voice echoed off the walls. “Performing always takes a lot out of me, plus I’ve been super nervous about this damn show.” She bounded down the last few steps. Turning into the living room, she glanced over her shoulder.
    Koty stood at the top of the stairs. He nodded, then followed her down.
    Guilt tugged at her, but she shoved it away. She needed to focus. She had a job to do. Marching toward the kitchen, she headed toward the refrigerator. She grabbed a bottle of ginger ale and opened it. Grimacing, she brought it to her lips. She took slow sips, the liquid soothing her roiling stomach, despite the taste. Someone needed to invent a soothing beverage that tasted good, she mused as she took a few more sips. Once upon a time, whiskey had been that beverage for her.
    Straightening, she twisted the cap back on and tucked the bottle under her arm.
    “Griff is here.” Koty opened the front door, his guitar strapped to his back.
    “Let’s do this.” She grabbed her guitar and jacket, then followed him outside.
    The bar smelled like stale beer and sweat, despite the employee mopping the floor. Jett was the first to step inside. She made a face at the tiny stage.
    The men crowded in behind her, each of them holding a piece of equipment. She carried her amplifier and guitar to the stage, then set them down. Head swiveling, she took in the bar. High tables crowded the floor. A couple of dart machines were crammed into the corner. The bar itself