HENDRIX

My heart jumps out of my chest when I walk outside Static Frequency headquarters and find Cole waiting for me.

Dark hair tucked beneath his signature black baseball cap, hoodie pulled tight to hide the all-too-recognisable ink wrapping around his neck, he leans against the passenger door of his Range Rover.

My stomach somersaults.

It doesn't matter how many times we do this same song and dance. I feel just as giddy as I did the first time I spied on him in the old music room at school. If anything, the feeling is heightened.

Especially when he catches my gaze and pushes off the car. His long legs eat up the distance between us, and before I even have a second to say hello, his hands are cradling my face and his lips are on mine.

I melt into him, curling my fingers around his hips as his hand sinks into my hair and his tongue swipes over the seam of my mouth, pleading for entrance.

I'd be a fool not to let him in.

He's been gone for two days, tied up with the guys in meetings about Reckless Abandon's new tour. While it’s been nice to spend my free time hanging with Riley and Theo, I’ve missed the man something rotten.

Can’t say I ever expected to be this needy wife of his, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t mind.

I pull away reluctantly when a cyclist dings their bell.

“That was one hell of a greeting, Rock Star,” I say as Cole reaches for my hand and pulls me with him to his car.

He smirks, tugging the passenger door open with a wink. “I aim to please.”

I climb into the passenger seat and stretch my legs out in front of me. Every time Cole drives us somewhere, I have to concede that the extra legroom is pretty nice. Not that I’ll ever admit that to him.

If he had his way, he'd never have to fold himself into my Beetle again. And that's a sight I'm not sure I could live the rest of my life without seeing at least once a month.

Besides, he seems to enjoy the extra attention I give him afterwards to work out all those tight muscles.

Cole slides into his seat and the engine roars to life. Bad Omens comes through the speakers, and the heat from the vents nips away at the leftover chill from the winter air outside.

With the heel of his palm resting against the steering wheel, he drapes his other arm along the back of my seat and reverses out of the parking spot. “How did your meeting go?”

“Good, I think.” I lace my fingers through his on the gear stick. “Though Noah wasn’t wrong when she said her label was as bad as yours.”

He hums. “Yeah. In Stasis signed a 360 deal like we did.”

“So they control everything?”

“Not everything, per se. But you don’t get a lot of pushback.” He glances over at me, brow hiking. “Why? They didn’t say anything about you, right?”

I huff a laugh.

Since finding my footing in the industry freelancing as a songwriter and producing under my own name, Cole has gotten rather protective over me when it comes to his peers.

My husband thinks the sun shines out my arse.

Therefore, he expects everyone else to think that too.

Never mind the fact I made my own career under Wren Monroe. He hears the name Hendrix Moore coming out of anyone’s mouth and he’s primed with a dictionary of compliments or a snarky quip if someone says otherwise.

“Simmer down, dude,” I tell him. “I was practically revered in that room. Apparently writing platinum-selling records for the best band in the world makes you a bit of a celebrity.”

“Damn right it does.”

He gives me a crooked grin, and there they are again.

Those bloody butterflies.

“Is it true that your label can force you into relationship contracts?”

His forehead creases. “Yes and no. They can certainly push a PR relationship on their artist if they think it can benefit them, but this is one of those times where they don’t have control over everything.”

“Right. So they can’t actually make an artist do it?”

“No. But they can make the artist’s life incredibly uncomfortable if they don’t play along with it. They’ll stop pushing albums, pull back on tours. Things like that. Why do you ask?”

I shake my head. “Just something Noah said. She thinks they’re pushing for Billie to have a public-facing relationship with someone.”

“Are they?” His gaze glints with curiosity. “Who with?”

“She didn’t say. Just that if I signed a contract to co-write with In Stasis, they’re talking about doing a joint single with this other band too.”

“Interesting.”

“Right? I’m so intrigued by how it all works.” I squeeze his fingers, a cheeky grin on my lips. “Did your label ever try to set you up with a hot rock star? A woman in leather and lace?”

Cole laughs at that. “I’m sure they thought about it, once or twice. But lucky for me, we blew up before they could even think about how to garner publicity for our name.”

“Look at you, big famous rock star who never needed a helping hand.”

“Look at me, big famous rock star who had the best songwriter in the world for his first EP.”

“You’re so obsessed with me.”

“Forever and always, baby.”

“And even after?”

He rolls the car to a stop outside the gates of the old warehouse I now call home with him. The engine cuts out, taking the music with it.

Honeyed eyes glitter when they latch onto mine and the world quiets around us. “Even then, Rixie Moore.”