So here he was, sitting in the Foundation’s parking lot, the place that intervened when he was a kid. The Foundation gave him music and the courage to follow his dream. Without it, he’d still be holed up in that godforsaken house with his mom. He hadn’t bothered to knock on her door last night. Instead, he drove to the Foundation and slept in his truck. Some things never changed. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d slept in this parking lot when he was a kid after Taylor fell asleep. It seemed fitting that he’d go back there now.
Right then, he heard a tapping noise on his window. He opened his eyes, expecting to see some kids or another shady element that frequented this part of the town. Instead, he saw a woman with long, thick, almost white blonde hair and a white collared blouse perfectly starched peeking out from beneath a classically tailored navy suit. It wasn’t expensive, just clean and simple. This should be interesting. He rolled down his window.
“Yes,” he said, his voice scratchy from sleep as he rubbed his hand along the dark stubble on his chin. He couldn’t remember the last time he shaved.
Her eyes swept his appearance from the top of his nearly black, sleep-mangled hair to his scuffed black leather boots resting on the passenger side dash. Unlike most women he met on tour, she clearly didn’t appreciate his less than totally groomed appearance. Apparently, he wasn’t her type. Go figure. Maybe she didn’t recognize him.
“Can I help you?” She raised one perfectly arched, pale blonde eyebrow.
He leisurely perused her body from the bottom to the top, cataloguing every detail just to give her a little taste of her own disapproval. Conservative nude colored heels, perfectly shaped calf muscles, slim fitting navy skirt hitting less than one inch above her knee, nicely flared hips, a tiny waist…
She cleared her throat. “Excuse me.”
Well, damn. He was just getting to the good stuff. “What was your question again?”
Little Miss Uptight, with her effortlessly styled blonde hair, folded her arms across her chest, clearly objecting to his impolite perusal of her body. She didn’t need to worry. She was everything he avoided when it came to women. Her kind demanded commitments, love, and honesty, three things he could never offer. But still, he couldn’t look away from her. It was like staring at the sun.
“Can I help you?” she asked, interrupting his musings.
He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, chewing on his silver lip ring as he contemplated his next move. “Do you work here?”
“Yes, I’m the director, Violet Emerson.”
“Perfect.” Alec opened the door of the truck and jumped out. “I’m Alec Reed.” He held out his hand, yet she hesitated to take it. Instead, her eyes skimmed the large silver rings decorating each of his fingers and the tattoos on his forearms. Together, they were overkill in the middle of Montana, making him look more like a thug than a rock star, but his fingers felt exposed and ungrounded without them, and his tattoos…well, that ship had sailed years ago. No drugs for him. He craved tattoos. The sting of the needle momentarily erased his guilt and gave him an incomparable rush of endorphins that lasted longer than any drug he’d ever tried.
Unfolding her arms, Violet slipped her small hand into his and an electric shock ricocheted between them. Hm…interesting.
Confusion washed across her face and then she immediately replaced it with a blank, professional look. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Reed,” she said, no change in her voice tone and no outward signal that she recognized his face or his name. Nice. He liked that. He was so sick of being Alec, the drummer from Chasing Ruin, especially after finishing the last tour. His level of notoriety didn’t even come close to what Jax, the lead singer, experienced on a daily basis, but it was enough to impinge on his privacy and he liked his privacy. He wouldn’t mind being Mr. Reed or Alec, a nobody from nowhere for a while, living and dying on his own merits rather than on the celebrity of his band.
He rocked back on the heels of his heavy boots as his eyes swept over her long-as-fuck legs one more time. What the hell. He shoved away the unwanted thoughts about a woman he could never have. It didn’t matter how famous or successful he became, Violet Emerson was the forbidden fruit he could never taste…not a single nibble. “So anyway, I’m in town for a while and I’d like to volunteer at the Foundation for the next month.”
Her grayish blue eyes widened briefly, then her pouty little mouth opened and closed again before she pulled herself together again. “All right. Do you have any experience working with troubled kids?”