“I built these walls, stone by stone

Told myself I’d walk alone

Love was just a hmmm-hmmm-hmmm

One more spark, one more flame

But then you –”

He stops and mumbles to himself, “I need to figure out a line to sing here,” before picking right back up and singing the next lines.

“Sweet surrender, I’m falling now

No more running, no more doubt

Take my heart, don’t let me go

Hmm-Hmm-Hmm”

Eating crow is never fun and yet this is what I need to do.

I came into this situation knowing exactly what it was—a deal, an agreement, a way to better his image and my bank account. It’s not Jase’s fault that I liked the man I thought he was and misinterpreted the kiss. Again.

I’ve been corrected and while I still think he was in the wrong for not telling me about the photographer, my footing has been reaffirmed and I know squarely where I stand.

Jase Gizmodo is a flirt. While it’s probably innocent in nature, it’s just how he is, he doesn’t understand that casual kisses and crooked smirks aren’t the norm . . . for me.

Or that a man who looks like he does and can sing like he can is a hard one not to like.

With a deep breath, I step into the doorway to try to right the wrongs from earlier. It’s the least I can do since we’re stuck with each other for the next few months.

Jase is sitting so I’m met with his profile. He’s shirtless with his hair falling on his brow as he hunches over an acoustic guitar. He holds a pencil between his lips as he nods at whatever he’s been writing on the scribbled sheet of paper in front of him. A keyboard is to his right and a computer that looks like it has some kind of program open is to his left and angled in my direction.

That reminder that I can’t crush on him just hit hard and heavy as I stare at him in his element.

“Hey,” he says when he catches sight of me. “Give me one second. I don’t want to forget what’s in my head.”

“Of course.” I stay where I am, conscious that this is his inner sanctum and he may not want me here.

He hums through a few more notes as his fingers hit the keys on the keyboard before setting the guitar in its stand and looking over to me. His expression is stoic. “Did you need me?”

“You play all these instruments?” I ask and move into the studio, completely impressed.

He nods as I reach out and run a finger over the cymbal so that it moves. “I do. Well enough to get by but drums is my main instrument.”