Heated Beat 02 - Lucky Man Read Online Free PDF

Finn—as if he wasn’t already—and wondered if they were part of the jam session he’d come from. As Danny passed them, a more southern accent than he was used to cut through the broad northern brogues.
    “…good to see Finn smiling again, wasn’t it? It’s been too long, man….”
    At least Danny thought that’s what he heard. By the time he was a few feet away, he felt less convinced. He glanced over his shoulder and the pavement was clear, the van door shut, leaving him no way of knowing who’d said it, if indeed anyone had said it at all.
    Idiot. He had Finn on the brain. Finn brain. Danny chuckled. Despite the churning nerves in his gut, he kind of liked the sound of that.
    The all-night Indian café was quiet, as Finn had promised. Danny absorbed the steamy warmth and searched the booths. It didn’t take long to spot Finn’s shaggy blond hair, and Danny’s heart did a little flip. Damn. Finn McGovern was as gorgeous as Danny remembered, and more… head down, scribbling in a notebook, chewing his thumbnail, oblivious to Danny’s presence.
    “You going in or what, mate?”
    “Hmm?” Danny shook himself and sidestepped the grumpy old geezer and then wove his way through the small hole-in-the-wall restaurant to where Finn sat. “All right?”
    Finn looked up and beamed, wide and warm. “Hey, you. Yeah, I’m all right. How are you?”
    “Good, good.” Danny dropped into his seat, trying not to grin like an idiot. “Not sure about this place, though. Looks like it’s got rats.”
    Finn’s mile-wide smile turned to a smirk as he stuffed his notebook into his guitar case. “You’ll see.”
    A waiter came before Danny could reply. They ordered drinks and papadums. Danny asked for a lager and Finn another bottle of water to replace the empty one on the table.
    “Are you driving?” Danny asked when the waiter was gone.
    Finn shrugged. “I don’t drink much. It’s not good for me.”
    “Bad for your voice?”
    “Something like that.”
    The waiter delivered a tray of papadums and pickles. Danny hadn’t looked at the menu, too busy gawping at Finn, so he ordered the first thing he saw along with a few side dishes.
    Finn chuckled and added to their mammoth order. “Didn’t have you pegged for a madras kind of man.”
    “Yeah?” Danny waited for the waiter to go. “What did you have me pegged for? A korma wimp?”
    “Other way, actually. Thought you’d be a hotter-the-better bloke.”
    A rude joke danced on Danny’s tongue until he remembered he was sober and out in public.
    Out in public with a guy half the city probably recognizes….
    Danny silenced the devil on his shoulder. “I lived behind a curry house at uni. Opened my eyes to a whole new world. I grew up on chop suey and cawl.”
    And the rest. University had been Danny’s first real taste of sexual freedom. Something that felt a world away these days.
    “Cawl?” Finn frowned. “I get the Chinese reference, your eyes give you away, but what’s the other shit?”
    “Welsh. I was born in Cardiff. My mum did most of the cooking, but my dad used to make cawl on Saturdays. It’s like broth… Irish stew without the barley.”
    Finn looked mystified. Danny let it go. “How was your jam? Was it a Lamps thing?”
    “Nah.” Finn cracked a papadum in half. “I work as a session musician for a couple of bands. We’re hitting the recording studio next week, so we needed to touch base.”
    “A session musician?” That caught Danny off guard. The Lamps were a big deal. They sold out every venue they played, especially up north. Danny had figured they had it made. “Thought you’d be making the big bucks by now.”
    “I am, as much as I need to.” Finn’s gaze was steady, but Danny felt like he was missing something.
    “So why do you play for other bands?”
    “The Lamps don’t have a record deal. We’re independent.”
    Danny swallowed a mouthful of warm lager. Blah. He hoped the food was better than the beer. “Hard to