Page 69 of Flirting with Trouble

A tall, tan guy with longish light brown hair saunters over from the register. “Wells, my man. What are you doing here?”

“Carey?” Wells says with surprise. “Hey. It’s good to see you.” Holding the guitar with one hand, he and Carey share an embrace. “I didn’t know you were living in the city.”

“It’s only temporary. I’m helping out my buddy Drake Savage again. He opened this place a few months ago.”

“Awesome.” Wells puts a hand on my back again. “Carey Osten, this is Victory Braden. Carey grew up on the island. His father is the mayor, and his sister, Tara, is engaged to Levi.”

“Hi, Carey, it’s nice to meet you. I met Tara. She’s a sweetheart, and her girls are adorable.” She and Levi have an adorable baby girl named Toni and a beautiful little girl named Joey.

“Yeah, they sure are,” Carey says. “Are you the same Victory Braden who owns Blank Space Entertainment?”

“I am. You keep up with the entertainment industry?”

“Music is my life.” He rakes a hand through his hair and lifts his chin toward the guitar Wells is holding. “She sounds beautiful. I didn’t know you played.”

“I don’t, but Vic does. Mind if she shows me a thing or two?” Wells asks.

“Not at all. There’s a bench over there.” He points to the other side of the store. “Make yourselves comfortable, and let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do. Thanks, man.” Wells guides me toward the bench.

“Wells, what are we doing?”

“Having fun.” He sits on the bench and holds the guitar across his lap. “Now what?”

I can’t stop grinning, which is par for the course with him. “You can’t learn to play the guitar in five minutes.”

“I just want to see if I like it.”

“Okay, well, first you have to hold it right.” I move behind him and reach around him to adjust how it rests on his leg.

“I like this,” he says in a low, sexy voice, and turns to kiss my cheek.

“Mm-hm. I’m starting to understand why you wanted to do this.”

“I’m no dummy. What do I do with my hands?”

“I can think of a few things,” I whisper. “But they don’t require a guitar.”

He grins. “I should’ve thought of this weeks ago. Show me something, sweets. Anything. How to play a single chord.”

“Okay. I’ll teach you to play an E.” Still leaning over his back, I adjust his fingers. “Press on the fretboard like this, but do it firmly when you strum the strings.”

He strums a few times. “Like this?”

“Mm-hm. Good.” I walk around the bench so I can see him play. God, he looks good holding a guitar.

“What do you think?”

“I think you’re infuriatingly hotter holding the damn thing. How does it feel?”

“Not as good as you do.” He motions to the bench. “Sit with me.”

I sit beside him, and he stops strumming.

“Will you play something for me?”

“I haven’t played in years,” I remind him.