Chapter 74
W hen I wake up in the morning, I’m alone in the bunk. My chest twinges with hurt, but it’s not as severe as it was in Seattle. This time, I set the terms. I know upfront what to expect. We’re coworkers in the day and only lovers at night.
I get dressed, selecting a bookish pink T-shirt and a pair of jeans from my suitcase while preparing myself mentally to see Bo. I know he’ll act like nothing has happened. We agreed to the secrecy. He doesn’t need any more trouble with his label, and I don’t want to lose my job. It’s all very logical. But all the reasoning in the world won’t change the way I feel.
“Hey.” I wave awkwardly at everyone as I enter the front lounge. Bo and Carson are at the banquet. Stevie and Levi are on opposite couches. I avoid direct eye contact, but I can still feel the weight of their speculation. Bo and I weren’t quiet last night. They know exactly what we were doing. Hell, even the bus driver probably knows. “I’m going into the hotel to check everyone in.” Feeling a little unsteady on the uncertain ground I agreed to, I head toward the exit.
“Already done,” Bo announces, and I stop halfway down the aisle and glance over at him.
Big mistake . My breath sputters, my eyes stalling on the sculpted wall of his chest and that danger zone between his hips. He’s only wearing running shorts and exercise shoes. His lightly bronzed skin is shiny and wet. He’s a tempting new toy that I still want to play with.
“Um, th-thanks, I guess,” I stutter. “Then I’ll just?—”
“You’ll eat something now,” Bo says in a tone that brooks no argument. He rises from his side of the table, and I force myself to hold my ground, no matter how unsteady it feels as he comes toward me.
“There’s a cinnamon roll.” He points to the pastry on top of the table he abandoned. I nod to acknowledge having heard him, but I don’t care about eating. I just want to touch him and have to twist my hands together to keep from doing it. “Have breakfast,” he orders. “Drink some coffee. I can find my own room inside the hotel. We all can.”
His own room. There’s no mention of me joining him. That hurt inside my chest transforms into full-on pain, but I power through it.
“Okay, I understand.” I avoid touching him as I slip by him. Taking his spot on the bench, I blink back the burn of emotion.
You set the parameters, Peace.
I make myself pull the plate with the pastry on it toward me.
You’re just friends who screw at night. It doesn’t mean anything that he helped you with your job or got you your favorite pastry for breakfast.
“I should be getting you guys food.” I set my laptop beside me on the bench and avoid Carson’s eyes.
“We already worked out and ate breakfast.” Carson slides out from his side of the table and stands.
“Peace got her workout last night.” Stevie snickers from his spot on the couch, and I blush.
“Usual daily drill for today,” Bo announces, and I glance his way like everyone else. Carson is the lead singer, but it seems to me that both men co-lead the band. “We have a radio station spot, then a few phone interviews to complete before sound check.”
“Right. Shoot.” I push away the plate. Melinda copied me on the agenda emails she sent the band. “I’m supposed to go with you.” I force myself to meet Bo’s gaze, but I crumble inside when I can’t find any trace of the warmth he lavished on me last night.
“You can come with,” Bo says as if he’s the boss and doing my job is optional. “SUV will pick us up in an hour.”
My cell pings. I withdraw it from the side pocket on my laptop case. Glancing at the screen, I see that in addition to the agenda, Melinda has texted me a few other pressing matters to attend to.
“Right,” I say firmly. “I have some things to do first. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
Bo nods once and leaves. The guys file out after him. Alone on the bus, I stare at my cinnamon roll. I’m not hungry. My appetite is practically nonexistent with Bo being distant. Even though I know in my head that he’s only pretending. In my heart, the hurt I experience from his pretending feels very real.
Bo
“You guys go ahead inside,” I tell my bandmates on the sidewalk outside the radio station building. “I want to talk to Peace alone for a minute.”
“Is everything okay?” Carson asks me as he glances back at the SUV, where Peace is talking to the driver.
“I need to make sure it is.” Though I’m doing what Peace wants, keeping things strictly professional between us during the day, I’m not going to keep pretending if it makes her sad.
“All right,” Carson says to me, then calls out to them. “Hey, losers.” He gains Stevie’s and Levi’s attention. Glancing up from their phones, they see him circle his finger in the air. He points at the revolving door with the radio station call letters etched on the glass. “Follow my lead. Let’s do this get-famous gig.”
Once they’re inside, I march toward Peace. She’s done talking to the driver. Her head down, she rounds the hood while typing on her phone.
“Hey.” I grab her elbow before she trips on the curb. “You should watch where you’re going.”
“Right, thanks.” She glances up at me, her eyes going soft until she seems to remember our deal. She tugs her arm free, her chin dropping again. “Just need to finish adding Paul’s number into my phone.”
“Paul?” I frown. “Who the fuck is Paul?” I see red immediately.
“The driver.” She raises her head and waves as he—Paul steers the SUV into the busy street. “He’s picking us up later. Said he’ll take us to lunch. He knows a good pizza place.”
“Pizza.” I perk up, my stomach grumbling. I only drank a protein shake after my run this morning. “You got all that information from the guy in a two-minute conversation?”
“Yeah.” She nods. “He has a wife and two kids. His oldest likes pizza, just like you.”
“So you arranged lunch for me and the guys?”
“Yes.” She shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “That’s my job.”
“It’s your job to keep me out of trouble.” I take her hand, flip it over, and bring it to my mouth. I bite the fleshy part. I don’t care if this isn’t what we agreed to. I don’t like our agreement. I don’t like her talking to other men. I want to put my mark on her.
She inhales sharply. “Sometimes, maybe.” Her brow creases. “But you shouldn’t do that.”
“This you mean?” I touch my lips to her skin.
“Bo,” she exhales my name breathily, like she did many, many times last night. Our eyes connect when I lift my head. Hers are darker now, a sultry brown rimmed by a mystifying green.
“When you do sweet and thoughtful things,” I tell her, unable to remember a time when anyone looked out for me like she does. “You make it impossible for me to keep to the terms of our agreement.”
“It doesn’t seem like you’re having any difficulty at all.” Her pretty features pinch, revealing her hurt.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“You’ve been acting cold and distant toward me all morning,” she explains.
“By taking care of you? By attempting to lighten your workload? By insisting that you eat?”
“Yes.” She tilts her head, and I can’t resist. I trace a long, gleaming gold strand, my fingers lingering on the creamy skin that her scooped tee reveals. “It seemed like you were happy to avoid me.”
“Happy would not be the word I’d use,” I growl, the same sensual hunger gnawing at me now that I experienced last night. “I left the bus so I didn’t do what I really wanted to.”
“What?” she asks.
“Lay you out on the table, strip you naked, make a meal out of your pussy.”
“Oh.” Her sexy lips round.
“Exactly.” I capture a length of her hair. Wrapping it around my fist, I reel her closer. I glance around. Not seeing anyone, I only hesitate for a moment before deciding, fuck it and aim my mouth for hers. Anticipating her plush lips pillowing mine, my cock lengthens, but she thwarts everything by turning her head.
“Tease.” I nip her earlobe a little harder than necessary, annoyed that she won’t let me kiss her.
She places her palms on my chest. “This is a TV and radio station. There’s tons of video equipment and cameras around. We shouldn’t take a chance.”
Fuck being safe. The devil in me doesn’t care about consequences, but the angel overrules, like it often does in matters that involve her.
“Okay.” I unwind her hair and step back. My muscles flex and burn, fighting the gravitational pull of her.
“Okay.” She pastes on a mask. Her professional demeanor makes her eyes dull instead of sparkly. I don’t like it. “Do you want to go over the potential interview questions?” she asks.
“I already had Siri read me the sample ones you sent this morning,” I inform her.
“Good.” She never bats an eye about my dyslexia or the methods I use to overcome it. “Did you practice answers?”
“Been asked the same damn things before,” I complain. “I know what to say.”
“I’m sorry.” She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t know why the media never asks interesting questions.”
“Like what?” I cock my head.
“Stuff all music lovers want to know.” Her eyes light up.
“Hit me with one.” I’m glad to answer any question that makes her eyes shine.
“Which comes first when you’re creating, music or lyrics?”
“Music,” I reply, without even having to think about it. “When it’s Car and me, I usually start out messing around with my guitar. When I find a riff I like, I play it for him. We hum shit where we think lyrics should go. Then we try to find words as good as yours to enhance the music.”
“That’s cool.” With her hand over her heart, she practically vibrates with excitement.
“You’re the cool one.” My eyes bounce between hers. “This band wouldn’t be where we are if it weren’t for your part in it.”
“I don’t believe that.” Unclasping her hands, she waves away the truth.
“It’s true.” I don’t allow her disbelief. “It’s your lyrics that made our album successful. All the guys agree with me.”
“It’s not me.” She shakes her head. “You guys are the ones putting yourselves out there in front of a crowd night after night. I could never do anything like that.”
“Yes, you could. You’re talented and much braver than you think.”
“How am I brave?”
“By acknowledging your deepest fears.” But it’s more than that. “By sharing them with me.”
“That was my therapy. I should give you the money I would have paid a shrink.”
“You should let me pay you for the songs that are on our album. I…” Trailing off, I correct. “The guys and I owe you a debt we can never repay.”
“It was a gift,” she whispers. “I don’t want you to repay me.”
“I realize that now.” I slide a finger along her jawline. Lifting her delicate head, I search her twinkling eyes, willing her to get how amazing she is and how grateful I am not just for the gift of her words but for the gift of her.
“I love your melodies.” She lets out a feathery breath. “You’re the one who gave my emotions a voice. When I listen to your songs, I feel like I’m back on the bed in my backyard, staring up at the stars and sharing everything with you all over again.”
“We make a good team, you and me.” My chest swells with emotion. Nothing makes me feel better than being with her. But the moment is too heavy, and I tease her to lighten it. “Especially when we’re both naked.”
“Yes.” She blushes. “I agree. But it’s good you have Carson to help you find words for your music now.”
“Carson is a great friend and a decent cowriter.” I nod. “But he’s not you, and I don’t want to get naked with him.”