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his brain just to keep alive, because the man is making no fucking sense anymore.
    “Dude, you don’t get it. YOU just had that same stupid happy expression. And if Addison Jennison put it there...if you’re thinking about devouring her....I think we can both agree, that’s going to be a problem. For you and Addy.”
    “What’d I do? And why is it a problem?” Her voice cuts through the tension between Derek and I, and for a moment I’m pissed at him for saying all the stupid shit he just said. Then, I turn to face her, my eyes catch on hers, that constant stir of trouble in them, and I can feel my mouth moving by its damn self, completely out of my control.
    “Derek was just commenting on your driving skills. Judging by the parking job you did in my driveway, people should avoid getting in their cars when you’re out on the road.”
    Her eyes narrow and I don’t think she really believes me. But, she goes with it anyway. “It’s not my fault Blaise made me drive the fucking tank over here.”
    “Uh, don’t blame Blaise, blame your driving. He’s probably just trying to keep you safe by making you cruise around in the Yukon.” I turn away to get her coffee for her. Mostly, I just need a break from those eyes. And that smile. And that face. Only now I’m looking at Derek’s. And his eyes are conveying a loud and clear ‘I fucking told you so’. I’m still not saying he’s right. He’s sick. Sick in the head from all this Sammy shit.
    But then a small hand reaches over mine to take the cup I’m still holding, and I swear the sight of it on mine, makes my entire body stir to life in a way it’s never done before.
    Fuck me .

Chapter 3
    I ’ve had three cups of coffee and spent a total of five hours here, but I’ve still only managed to dig up two items even remotely suitable for the auction. One is an old set of drumsticks I had to spend thirty minutes convincing Angel he could live without, and the other is a handwritten note he scribbled down one night at a bar which later wound up becoming the chorus on their latest hit. Which is especially significant since Angel rarely contributes to the lyrics. Usually, Derek and Blaise partner up on the song writing, but I’ve read and re-read those four lines on a cocktail napkin a hundred times or so in the last hour, and I’m convinced he has the soul of a poet who simply refuses to speak out loud the beauty he thinks.
    I may be romanticizing things. But then, I’ve been sitting here, digging through his belongings, listening to the sound of his smooth voice tell me every random thing that’s crossed his mind in the years we’ve been out of touch and looking up every so often to see a flash of his gorgeous smile. Who wouldn’t start thinking about souls and poetry and shit?
    “Here we go!” I bolt to my feet, I’m so excited by my unexpected find.
    “Found something good to sell?” Angel comes over from the stack of boxes he’s been sifting through.
    “Fuck no, we’re not selling these. We’re hanging them on your walls!” Careful not to scratch or snag the edges, I lift the first of five canvases out of their cardboard prison.
    I can feel Angel standing behind me, leaning into me slightly as he moves in over my shoulder to get a look. “Shit. I forgot I had these.” He chuckles and the butterflies in my stomach stir like bats tripping on acid.
    I shake my head, truly disappointed, as I fall in love with the stunning strokes of artistic genius on this canvas. This piece is of a saxophone. The one below is a set of drums. Naturally. They were bound to be in there somewhere. I can’t wait to find out what the other three are. “How could you forget something so pretty?”
    “I’ve been wondering the same thing.” His tone is softer than usual and automatically, curiosity forces me to turn and face him. Only he’s not looking at the painting. His eyes are locked directly on me.
    Holy hell .
    The bats in my stomach are about to head