Joy graced him with her presence.

She walked toward Dylan carrying her bathroom stuff and wet bathing suit, and she looked at him like he’d sprouted a biker beard. He pushed away from the car, and shamelessly stared at her.

“You all right?” she asked when she walked past him on the way to the Bug’s trunk. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Forget the ghost. He was seeing her for the first time ever.

She wore flip-flops, cutoff jean shorts, and a fitted tee with the Rolling Stone logo splayed across her breasts. She’d bundled her hair into a knotted mess up top and damp tendrils clung to the back of her lean neck.

He was done for.

This was Joy.

Cali girl. Surfer babe. Little rocker chick.

She was a knockout, inside and out. And he was falling for her, hard.

This was bad. So, so bad. Absolutely not part of his plans.

He scrubbed his face, shook his head. Shook off the feelings building inside the best he could.

Joy dumped her stuff in the trunk and the keys in his hands. “Mind driving? I want to search for a hotel for tonight.”

“Don’t.” His voice croaked.

She frowned. “Don’t what?”

“Look for a hotel. I have an idea.” She’d helped him. He wanted to do something in return.

Her gaze narrowed. “About?”

“Where we’re sleeping tonight.”

“We?” She choked on the word. “Dylan . . .”

He held up his hands. “Not together, but sort of. Trust me?”

She chewed on her lower lip. “I shouldn’t, but all right.”

Warmth expanded inside him under the sunrays of his tattoo, and not because she agreed to play along. Her trust meant a lot to him, which also meant he wanted to keep this good vibe going between them. “Watch me sing tonight?”

She beamed. “I’d love to,” she said.

“Excellent.” He grinned and tried to give back her keys.

“Uh-uh.” She avoided his offer, opening the passenger door. “I can’t wait to watch tonight, but you’re still driving. I’m sun-fried.”

“You got it.”

He sank into the driver’s seat, adjusted the chair and mirrors, then drove to Oklahoma City and directly to the bar where he had his gig. Joy placed two orders of buffalo wings and fries for them and he cleaned off his plate. Done with dinner, he used the bar’s pay phone to call Rick, because Rick was a dick.

“I’m here. Starting in a few.”

He then slammed down the phone and invited Joy to sit at a table right in front of the stage. He needed her there. He needed to focus on her until he could get a grip on his nerves. Luckily, the turnout was small. It was a Sunday night. The gig was over and done in a heartbeat, and surprisingly, he enjoyed performing.

He needed more nights like that.