Return of the Bad Boy (Second Chance #4)

There was a time and place, and as much as he still wanted Gloria, he’d have to accept that their time and place had come and gone.

“Fine,” Asher answered Donny, his tone harsher than he meant it to be. “Do it. Charge me a lot. I’m drowning in money.”

“I know, I know. Celebrity.”

“Beer?” Asher strolled to the fridge.

“Of course. I can’t get a proper tour without a beer.”

Asher cracked the tops off two bottles and handed over one of them. A bark sounded at the back door and he opened it.

“What the hell is that?” Donovan stood, beer bottle in hand, frowning down at the tiny dog that scampered into the house.

“Donny. Meet Tank. Yorkshire terrier by breed, badass by personality.”

Donny abandoned his beer bottle to lower to his haunches. Tank barked, his tail moving back and forth in a cautious wag.

“It’s okay, bud,” Asher told the dog. “He’s a good guy. Got a dog of his own.”

“A big dog that would eat you up,” Donny said, scratching Tank’s chin. But she wouldn’t at all. Gertie may be a Saint Bernard mix with pale blue eyes that matched her owner’s, but Gertie would likely chew off a paw before she harmed a soul. She was a gentle spirit and the second best thing to ever happen to Donny.

Tank, on the other hand, had been left behind, and Asher, who had no desire for a toy breed that was better suited for a handbag than a lake house, ended up falling for the pup in a matter of days.

Tank allowed Donny to pick him up, licking his face with fervor. “I thought Yorkies had tons of hair,” he said, dodging the dog’s tongue.

Ash patted Tank’s recently trimmed back. “He’s not into that. Long-haired rock stars are too nineties.”

Donovan plunked Tank on the floor and the three of them resumed the tour of the inside, moving quickly through the three bedrooms, three baths, and then back to the open-floor-plan kitchen and living room where the eyesore of a fireplace stood.

“And my favorite part.” Asher stepped through the adjoining room, which took up the entire west side of the house and faced the hill and the rest of the lake. His house was private and that was great, but his favorite part was getting to set up the recording studio facing the sunset and the lake. Nothing but windows over here, and he’d had the fourth bedroom wall knocked out before he moved in to make the studio even larger.

“Nice. Soundproof?” Donovan strolled by the instruments—a few of Ash’s guitars and the computer for mixing standing next to a keyboard he often used to incorporate the bassline.

“Totally.”

“Incredible. This place is awesome.” Donovan took a slug of his beer. “Needs a new fireplace, though.”

“Yeah.” Asher sipped his own beer and looked out on the lake. “I’ll be spending winters in LA, thanks. I could rent it out. Do people vacation here in the winter?”

“Oh, sure. The same way people flock to Florida for the sticky months of July and August.”

“Smart-ass.”

His buddy collapsed on a black vinyl sofa. With its square lines and wooden legs, it was very Mad Men. Asher picked it out online and had it delivered before he got here.

“How long you staying?” Donny asked.

“Few weeks. Month. Until we finish the album.” Ash shrugged. “Hard telling.” He sat on a stool next to a microphone stand.

“Is the band staying with you?”

“Hell, no.” He smiled and lifted his beer. “They’ll probably get a hotel and entertain the locals, if you know what I mean.”

“That I do.” Donovan leaned back on the couch, not looking the least bit upset that he was off the market. The man loved Sofie with an intensity that was enviable. Anyone who looked at them together could see the devotion between them.

Asher’s parents had that. At one point, his dad endeavored to have a career like Asher had but settled down with Elana and raised a child instead. This propelled Ash to follow his dreams all the way to the stage…and fueled his decision to not get into anything too permanent with women.

Then Gloria stole a chunk of his heart. And Jordan had his kid. Fuck if he knew what to do about either of them.

“Willing to play a gig while you’re in town?”

Asher narrowed his eyes, curious about the direction of this conversation. “What’d you have in mind?”

Donny lifted his brows. “Need a fourth groomsman. Would like it if that groomsman could also sing at the reception. Just one song.”

“‘Unchained,’” Asher guessed.

“Your big hit.”

“I’ll do both.” He’d do anything for his friends.

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