Love Struck (Miss Match #2) by Laurelin McGee

oldies.”
    “Something you’ve been singing on tour?” He already knew it wasn’t. He didn’t recognize it, and he would have since he’d watched every one of her performances.
    “Nah. Though if I could figure out what’s wrong with the arrangement, I might. I want it to sound more ethereal. Right now it’s too … rooted. If that makes any sense.”
    He resisted the urge to tie “rooted” into a that’s-what-she-said joke. “It makes perfect sense.” He leaned on the back of the seat next to her. “Which is why I think you should invert the G chord so it has a D base.”
    She furrowed her brow skeptically. But then she looked at her paper, bobbing her head to an internal refrain. “Huh. Actually, I like that. It changes the whole thing.”
    “Doesn’t it?” Eli slipped around to sit in the seat beside her, noticing the smell of patchouli was absent from her floral scent— what flower was that, anyway ? “And if you put a seven on that C chord—or even a thirteen—can you play a thirteen chord?”
    She scowled as if he’d been patronizing. “Yes, I can play a thirteen chord.”
    Eli put his hands up in a surrender position. “Hey, I wasn’t trying to be snooty. Some guitar players never add anything past a seven to their repertoire of chords.”
    Lacy eyed him, studying his sincerity. Finally, she sighed. “You aren’t wrong about that. And, honestly, I don’t even use sevenths as often as I could. But anyway, I’m having trouble hearing that C-thirteen.”
    “It’s subtle. Almost has the flavor of a C-augmented. Like”—he paused, trying to figure out how to describe the chord without an instrument—“like, C chord sounds like this.” He hummed the three notes of the chord. “Now just add this.” He hummed the six. “But imagine that an octave higher.”
    Lacy bit her lip as she closed her eyes, seeming to be listening to the change in her head. After a minute, she turned her head and faced Eli. “That’s … incredible. It’s exactly what it needed. Oh, my God. Thank you.”
    Eli was still thinking about her teeth wrapped around her bottom lip. She’d likely done it subconsciously, which was half the reason it looked so damn sexy. He wondered how it would feel to have her teeth rake against his own lip, against his tongue.
    Stop it. Stop it. They were practically coworkers. He shouldn’t be thinking about her in any way other than artistically.
    The less-conscious-of-propriety-in-the-workplace side of him didn’t fail to notice that his guilt had almost nothing to do with LoveCoda. Maybe he could postpone his feelings for her after all. He wasn’t sure if he liked that about himself or not, but he did like the way Lacy got his blood flowing.
    The bus turned into the parking lot of the hotel then, throwing Lacy against his side. His body tingled and sparked from the contact, leaving him warmer than he’d been just a second before.
    She giggled. “Whoops. Sorry.”
    Were giggles supposed to be so adorable? He couldn’t remember ever thinking so before, but there was no denying that Lacy’s giggle was downright captivating.
    “I’m happy to break your fall anytime you need it.” God, he was an idiot with his words sometimes. He blamed it on her giggle. And the heat she’d ignited from her touch. And thoughts of her sultry little nip. He was sure it was those things that led him to say, “I could stick around after the show if you want help working it.”
    The part of him that worried about missing LoveCoda online regretted his offer, but his pragmatic side reminded him he was interested in Lacy’s music too. Really interested. Besides, it wasn’t good to focus all his attention on just one person—just friends or not.
    Though maybe it had been too forward from an artist’s point of view. Or even just a woman’s point of view. So he added, “You know, if you want to.”
    She considered. “Yeah, I might take you up on that. Thanks again, Eli.” She flashed him