“Thanks, but I’m sticking to water,” I said softly before turning back to the bar, hoping she’d get the hint.
“Perhaps I can join you for that water, then?” she suggested before running a finger along my forearm to trace one of my tattoos.
Art was a part of me, and I showcased my love for it with music and tattoos. My body was a walking canvas, and I was covered in ink from neck to toe. I started getting tattooed years ago, and from the first touch of the needle to skin, I’d become addicted. So as the years progressed the more covered my skin became.
I moved my arm out of her reach and tried to be subtle about it by resting both on the bar. While others might’ve found her touch a turn-on, it left me irritated. Just because I played in a band and was covered in tattoos didn’t mean I liked random people touching me without my permission. I was fucking human, after all, and I had boundaries.
The fiery redhead behind the bar headed in my direction, but she wasn’t the one who caught my attention. Instead, it was the man with messy, sandy-blond hair and wide, light-brown eyes. He looked like a deer caught in headlights as he talked to Weston, our bass player.
“What can I get for you?” she asked.
“Just a bottle of water,” I answered, tearing my eyes from the man.
She turned around to grab the bottle from the mini fridge under the shelf and hand it to me. “I figured as much, but I always have to ask.”
“I appreciate it,” I told her before uncapping the bottle and tipping it to my lips to take a long drink.
Band members got free drinks, so I didn’t bother paying her, but I did reach into my pocket to pull out a bill and toss it into the tip jar.
“Thanks,” she said as she tracked my movements. “He’ll appreciate it, I’m sure.”
I followed her line-of-sight to the guy who was chatting away with Weston.
“How’s his training going?” I heard myself ask.
Not that I should’ve cared. But at least me chatting up the bartender got Boundaries Breaker to move on to her next prey. I snorted when I looked and saw her over with our drummer, Baylor. At least with him she’d have a shot. He loved bedding any woman who blinked in his direction. Poor woman, she had no idea what she was in for. Or maybe she did. It wasn’t my business.
“How do you know he’s training?”
I shrugged. “The deer-in-headlights look kind of gave him away.”
“Ah, yes. I remember that look well, and I’ve even worn it a time or two,” she confided with a wink. “But it’s going fine. Foster’s a fast learner.”
Foster. The name danced through my mind, and I wanted to say it out loud to see how it felt rolling off my tongue, as well. But another person stepped up beside me and caught the bartender’s attention. So, I turned away and looked for an empty seat. Thankfully, there was one near the other end of the bar, but that meant passing by Foster, who was busy pulling a beer from the tap.
I wanted to stare at him as I moved past, but I kept my head down, only allowing myself the tiniest glance. His lips were plump and turned down in a frown. His eyes were furrowed in deep concentration, and a lock of hair fell in front of his eyes. Much like my fingers twitched to play the keys of my sax, they itched to reach over the bar and push the hair from his face.
I gave myself a mental shake as I sat down on the stool. Foster was just the bartender and nothing else. For all I knew, he was straight, or even had a significant other waiting for him at home. Having fantasies about his hair or any other body part were out of the question. But wouldn’t you know it? The seat I’d chosen gave me the perfect view of not only his front, but also his back. Either I was the luckiest man in the bar, or the one Lady Luck had it out for.
“Your solo was amazing,” someone gushed beside me.
“Thank you,” I said, ripping my gaze from the man behind the bar and turning to who was talking to me.
It was another beautiful woman, however this one wore a dress that was soft yellow and fell just below the knee. It was loose and flowy, more like something worn to a picnic than a jazz bar. But the way she bit her lip and the uncertainty in her eye suggested this was her first time in here.
When I fixed my gaze on hers, she ripped hers from mine to glance at a table toward the right. I couldn’t help but follow her movement and saw a table filled with a group of young women giving her shooing motions and thumbs up of encouragement.
Ah, I knew what was going on here, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop the smirk that tried to form on my face. Her friends obviously talked her into approaching me, and she’d finally gathered up the guts to do it. Well, kudos to her, and while she had a wholesome, natural beauty, I hated the idea of having to let her down.
“I just love the saxophone.”
“Me too. That’s why I play it.”
“And you do it so well. The way your body moved as you played. It was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.” Her voice dropped down to almost a croak on the word sexy. Poor thing, she was trying, but I could tell flirting wasn’t her forte.
“Well, I just move with the music,” I told her.
It wasn’t the first or even the second time I’d heard that. I don’t mean to play so suggestively. But it’s as if the music takes control of my body, and I don’t fight it. But as I continued to look at her, I took in her young face and wondered if she was really a fan of jazz music or something else. So I waited patiently for the question I knew was coming.
“Well, I’m glad you do. But I have to know: Can you play the sax solo from Careless Whisper?”
And there it was. I was asked at least once, if not twice, at every gig I went to. It was almost a joke between me and the band members, since we were all asked if we could play certain solos. Poor Baylor’s was the drum solo for In the Air Tonight by Phil Collins.
I withheld a laugh as I answered her. “I think it’s almost illegal for a sax player to not know how to play it.”
After giving her friends another look, she leaned closer to me. “Well, I’d love to hear you play it some time.”
I shifted on my stool, hoping to put a little space between us. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings since she was trying so hard, but there was no chance of anything happening between us. “Uh, well maybe I can play it during one of our sets.”
I hadn’t planned on it, but sometimes it was fun to throw it in to get the crowd going.
“Oh.” Her lips turned down in the corner. “I was hoping it’d be in a more…private setting?”
Ah fuck. How did I handle that one? I was used to deflecting flirting fans, but this one was different. She was so sweet and trying so hard, even if it was out of her comfort zone. And I needed to let her down gently. Which was a shame, since there were plenty of men she could have her pick from. She’d chosen to flirt with the one who shared the same taste in body parts. I wasn’t one who went around flaunting my sexuality, since it was no one’s business whom I shared my bed with, but I wondered if I should tell her so she’d use her courage on someone else.
“Is there anything else I can get for you, sir?”
Fuck me. Foster had just come to my rescue, and he didn’t even know he was my savior. But the way the word “sir” rolled off his tongue had my dick twitching in my pants.