“I’m a personal assistant to a musician.” His answer is simple and makes much more sense. I’d never seen a farmer who looked like him before. A biker? Yes. A guy in a rock band? Yes. A farmer? No.

Since he’s opening up to me, I wonder if I can get him to spill the secret of the investor’s identity. “Now that, I believe. So tell me, is this investor a musician?”

Trip shakes his head and takes a step backwards to the door. “I’ll never tell.”

“Come on. I just want to know who is interested, that’s all. I can keep a secret. I swear.” Even I can hear the little whine in my voice, but knowing who might become out partner in the business is vital. If it’s the right person, we can use their celebrity status to draw in bigger events.

His hand rests on the doorknob. “Sorry, sweetness. I can’t give you that information. It’ll ruin everything.”

“Will we ever find out?” I question.

Trip opens the door and glances up at me with a smile on his lips. “You will, when the time is right.”

“Can I at least have a hint?”

He tilts his head. “Let’s call him Mr. Snare.”

My eyes widen as the last name clicks. “He’s a drummer?”

He shoots me a cocky grin that almost makes me weak in the knees. “Maybe.”

Before I get a chance to ask any more questions he slips out the door.

I turn and grab the handrail as I walk slowly up the stairs trying to pinpoint what drummer could possibly be the investor. Dad’s friend at the bank told him he didn’t have much information either, only that the person investing wanted to remain undisclosed until Trip thoroughly investigates the place and reports back to him. If the person investing is some rock star that could be great for business. It can kind of be what Carey Hart did for the tattoo business in Las Vegas. His name alone draws people to that shop he owns there.

This is excellent news.

I shut myself in my room and grab my laptop off the nightstand. Surely I’ll be able to find something.

I enter drummer into the search field and wait on the results. I groan. Over five million results pop up. “This is ridiculous. It’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack.”

I push the screen down before I place it away. There’s no way I can ever figure out who it is by going through that mess.

I lay back, falling into stack of pillows behind me on my full size bed. My finger traces patterns on the blue bedspread as I allow my mind to wander at what the future for this place may hold. I close my eyes and try to picture the bands I know. Not many individual members of bands come to mind. When I think of a band, I think of them as a whole. I’ve never really had the desire to study individual members of a band. I can’t even name five drummers.

I don’t even know where to start. Trip didn’t say if it’s a new band, or a retired one or what. The chances of me figuring this out on my own aren’t very good. I could try looking up Trip, but unless he’s got a website, which I doubt, linking him with the band, that probably won’t be very helpful. It would be a further waste of my time.

I’m going to have to get him to tell me himself.

The image of Trip smiling as he backed out of the door pops in my head. He’s dangerously sexy. His smile alone is hot enough to nearly melt my panties right off my body.

For the past couple years, Jackson has been the only man I’ve thought of, so it’s hard to tell my brain that it’s okay to move on and find other men attractive. Take Trip for example—as much as I hate to admit it to myself, Trip is exactly my type of guy. He’s cocky, sexy, and yet still has an excellent sense of humor. I can’t believe he’s willing to help me make Jackson jealous. It’s sweet and he couldn’t possibly understand how much that means to me.

It sucked to find out that all the years we spent together meant nothing to Jackson—that he thought so little of me that he could throw me out like a piece of candy that had lost its flavor. It changes everything when you find out what you thought was real is a lie. I am hurt and I’ll admit that I want to hurt him back.

If Trip is right, and the sight of the two of us together bothers Jackson, it’ll be the best payback I can ask for.

At some point while all that was running through my head I must’ve fallen asleep because the next thing I know a steady stream of sunlight pours through the window, hitting me in the eyes.

Shit. I’m late. The regular riders like an early start when they come to ride on open track day.

I throw my hand over my face to shield myself from the glare as I sit up and gain my bearings. I place both feet on the hardwood floor below me and push myself off the bed, tugging my nightshirt down around my thighs on my way to the bathroom.

I yawn as I open the door to answer nature’s morning call. My yawn quickly turns into a sucked-in breath as my wide eyes land on a tanned, toned, and very naked Trip, standing at the bathroom counter, brushing his teeth. My eyes zero in on his mid-section, and promptly widen. Oh. My. God! His dick is right there on display for the world to see. Okay, maybe not the world, but I certainly have an eyeful.

Quickly, I turn my head to keep myself from staring any longer as heat creeps up my neck before settling in my cheeks. “What are you doing?!”

“What’s it look like I’m doing? I’m brushing my teeth. Oral hygiene is very important,” he says with his mouth full.

I sigh but it almost sounds like a growl. “I meant why are you naked?”