Resisting the Musician (a Head Over Heels Novel) (Entangled Indulgence) Read Online Free PDF

town?”
    “Not a chance in the world.”
    “Of course not. How about Wednesday… No, Thursday? Ahh, early afternoon?”
    Dash shrugged, as if to say it didn’t matter to him. Restive with the need to pin it down, Lori knew she’d already pushed her luck, so she took her leave.
    And as she walked away—her shoes once more slipping on the rocks—she surprised herself by laughing. Which turned into a smile, bigger than she’d smiled in days. She even gave a little fist pump.
    “All done, miss?” asked Mack as she slid into the back seat.
    “For now,” she said with a sigh of relief.
    This was what hope felt like and it had been some months since she’d felt even a glimmer. It would take work (learning to play a stupid guitar) and sacrifice (spending time with her guitar teacher who seemed to have taken as little shine to her as she had to him). But she wasn’t afraid of either.
    She glanced out the window as Mack turned the car around and saw the two dogs bound past the car and up the front steps to where Dash bent down to rough them up.
    And then he stood, watching her drive away.
    …
    Dash scratched at the tattoo high up on his bicep as his dogs bounded up the stairs, tongues lolling out of their gray and white muzzles. “Boys, do I really need to explain that the only reason I took you on was to eat people like her?”
    Jagger saw something shiny in the woods and ran off. Bowie’s ears pricked a second before Dash heard the rumble of a hog echoing through the hills.
    Reg’s motorbike flickered through the trees before bumping over the new ruts in the mud, tracking a familiar course through the rocks and sliding to a halt in its usual spot by the edge of the porch.
    Reg peeled off his helmet, freeing his long, red, frazzled beard that, along with his faded leathers and round middle, made him look like a ZZ Top groupie.
    “Was that an actual visitor I just passed?” Reg asked as he carefully lifted his dodgy leg over the bike, grabbing his usual brown paper bag filled with something sweet and bready.
    “Bagman.”
    “Gung ho, taking on your driveway.”
    “Mmm.” Dash pulled the pink envelope from the back of his jeans and motioned with it. A scent wafted past his nose—spicy and hot, like satisfaction. It had Lori Hanover all over it.
    Rolling it up, he shoved it unceremoniously under his arm, grabbed his steel-capped work boots from inside the house and yanked them on. He waited for Reg to limp his way before they headed around the side of the house, a single canine companion at their heels.
    With a yank of a handle that threatened to dislocate his shoulder, the roller door lifted and they were inside the shed. The solitary beam of mottled sunlight shining through the one dirty window collected dust motes on its way to landing on Dash’s projects, many begun, nearly as many let go. And as he set foot in the dark, cool space, the tension that had risen in his shoulders the moment he’d spied the invader on his porch began to ease away.
    Bowie curled himself into a comfy position on the doggie bed in the near corner. Reg groaned in relief as he pulled up a stool and began to warm up the miniature coffee machine while Dash tossed the envelope onto a bench, straddled a stool, grabbed a palm-sized slice of sandpaper, and set to finding his zen by making mincemeat of a random hunk of wood.
    He should have known Reg wouldn’t let it lie.
    “So, that was a pretty sweet ride back there. Late model. Vanity plates. Chauffeured, by the looks of it. With a serious blonde in the rear.”
    Dash sanded harder; the dust floating feverishly up into the beam of light, hitting the backs of his nostrils, making grit in the corners of his eyes. “Imagine my surprise when I found her at my front door when I was expecting you.”
    Reg grinned, a glint of sunlight flickering off a gold tooth. “Looker?”
    Skin like cream. Soft lips. Wicked eyes. “Legs up to here,” Dash admitted, motioning under his arms.
    And then