Chapter Thirty-One
Maddox
Three songs in, and Paige is glowing. Not from the lights, though they’re blinding, hot enough to feel like we’re playing on the surface of the sun. But from something else entirely.
She’s not the new girl anymore, the one I felt like I needed to test. She’s one of us now. Locked in, focused, arms moving with precision, every hit of the snare and crash of the cymbals landing exactly where they should.
Beau and Eli fall into her rhythm like it’s second nature, playing off her cues like this is how we were always supposed to be.
And I can’t stop watching her.
I tell myself it’s just the music, the performance, the next chord. That I’m listening to the sound. But it’s not the music that has my pulse climbing. It’s her.
Shifting my stance, I spin on stage in time with the song, just to watch her play. Her whole body moves as she fluidly controls the beat, her right arm doing most of the lifting. It smacks down hard on the snare as her left hand flies fast across the hi-hats.
We tear through the rest of the set, the energy buzzing like electricity zapping around the stadium. Phone lights sway in the crowd, little glowing dots moving in sync, sweat and screaming wrapped around every chord. It’s one of those rare sets where everything just works. Guitar, bass, and drums.
The final chord fades, and I step up to the mic, wiping a bead of sweat off my temple.
“Dallas, you guys fucking rocked,” I shout, breathless but grinning. “Are you ready for Reign Cooper?”
The crowd explodes, their roars thundering enough to feel it through the stage beneath my feet. I soak it in, knowing one day it won’t be for him. It’ll be for us.
“We’re Sip Station,” Beau cries out as he throws an arm around my neck, panting. “Goodnight!”
Cheers echo behind us as we walk off stage, unplugging guitars, peeling off earpieces, retreating deeper into the wings while Reign’s tech crew moves in fast, swapping out our gear for his, checking mics and resetting levels.
Reign waits just offstage, calm and collected as ever, like he didn’t just sell out a twenty-five-thousand-seat arena.
One arm folded, the other loosely holding a water bottle, his shirt hangs open, his tanned chest catching the light.
He has one leather boot propped against the wall as he watches everything, amused and unbothered, his dark blond curls a mess on top of his head like he just rolled out of someone else’s bed.
He catches my eye and smirks. “Nice warmup, Knox.”
I nod, giving him that half-grin I save for people I might actually like. “We try.”
He pushes off the wall and heads to a guy who looks like he could fold me in half just for fun.
Broad shoulders under a dark denim jacket, hair in a topknot, beard thick enough to bury half his face.
Reign pulls a chain from around his neck, studying it for a beat before handing it over.
The guy carefully tucks it in his inner pocket without a word, Reign’s eyes never leaving it until it’s gone.
Satisfied, he nods, taking his guitar from a stagehand and slinging it into place, sending me a wink. “Time to show ’em how it’s done.”
Eli’s choice of bar for our first real night out on tour shouldn’t surprise me, but somehow, it still does. We walk into a dim, chaotic barn that smells like beer and hay, complete with a mechanical bull rumbling in the corner, surrounded by drunk encouragement and bad decisions waiting to happen.
Paige slides past me, hair still damp from her rushed shower, legs bare under tiny black denim shorts. She leans against the railing, rising onto her toes, the long muscles of her calves tightening beneath smooth, sun-kissed skin.
I take her in, slow and inevitable, just in time to catch the curve of her ass as the fabric rides up. Just a glimpse. Just enough for my cock to take notice.
Rubbing a hand over my jaw, I force myself to look away, turning to take the high table near the wall, trying not to track her every move. She laughs at something Eli says, tossing her head back, hair shining in the low neon light, before their glasses clink together.
Eli leans in, whispering again, and I don’t even know what he said, but I want to rip the grin off his face just for being that close.
“You keep staring at her like that and people are gonna talk,” Beau says as he comes up beside me with two beers.
I grunt as I take one. “I’m not—”
“—into her. Yeah, I know. Like I’m not texting that lighting tech girl again.” He takes a sip, eyes on Paige.
“It’s not like that,” I mutter, even though I can’t stop staring.
“Sure… And you didn’t drop a hundred dollars on sanitary products for her, either.
Look…” He swallows, edging closer, his voice low.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but don’t think I haven’t noticed how instead of acting like two strays fighting over a scrap of meat”—he glances at me pointedly—“you’re now circling like wolves.
Not sure if you’re gonna fuck or fight.”
I shoot him a look, trying to scoff like he’s reading into something that isn’t there. But my face doesn’t lie, and Beau’s too attuned to me not to notice.
“Appreciate the poetry,” I mutter, taking a swig, the light beer tasting like lukewarm guilt.
Beau taps his bottle against mine. “Just…don’t get so close you forget why this is complicated. Not just for you, but for us too. Don’t forget who she is.”
Eyes never leaving her, I nod once. “I haven’t.”
“Right,” he mutters. “Of course you haven’t. But don’t you think you should at least tell her about—”
“Don’t,” I snap, taking a long pull from my beer, jaw tight, gaze fixed on Paige. “You keep trying to bring this up. Not here, okay? Not yet. I’ll figure it out.”
Because I can’t think about that. Not when I’ve started to feel… Fuck, I don’t even know.
Beau nods slowly, lips pressed together like he’s biting back the rest of what he wants to say, the seconds ticking by. Paige cheers on some random guy on the bull, shirt riding up, hips swaying to the music, smooth legs flexing, and I hate how easy it is to forget why this is so complicated.
“Time to do something stupid,” Eli shouts, slamming his empty glass on the table. “Who’s getting on the bull?”
“You’re kidding!” Paige laughs, joining our group.
“Nah, Drummer Girl.” He grins, oblivious to the way my jaw clenches at his stupid nickname for her. “Prepare to witness greatness.”
Grabbing her hand, he pulls her through the crowd, leading her to the inflatable fence as he vaults over and hauls himself onto the machine. The thing starts to spin in lazy circles, and he grips the rope with one hand like he’s in a goddamn rodeo.
Beau and I reach Paige’s side, leaning on the barrier, my beer bottle hanging between my fingers.
“Ten bucks says he makes it eight seconds,” Beau says and nudges me.
“Six,” I counter, holding my hand out. We shake, then watch Eli’s limbs flail in four different directions.
“I take five,” Paige says, a coy smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
She holds out her hand, and I look down before sliding mine into hers just as Eli’s limbs pinwheel and he’s launched clean off the bull. Gasping, her head whips up to watch him land flat on his back with a dramatic groan.
“It’s fine,” Eli calls out, winded. “Don’t need a spine anyway.”
The crowd whoops, and Beau heckles something to Eli from behind cupped hands as he pushes to his feet.
But all I feel is Paige’s hand still wrapped in mine.
My thumb brushes the inside of her wrist without meaning to, soft and slow, the touch so gentle it’s like I didn’t do it at all.
She blinks, eyes darting to mine, her smile flickering, caught in the middle of a game we’re not supposed to be playing this close to the guys.
“Think I won,” she whispers, stepping closer.
I swallow, fingers itching to hold more than her wrist as Eli appears from the other side of the blow-up fence, grinning from ear to ear. “Who’s next?”
Paige jerks back, breaking our hands apart. She clears her throat and shakes out her fingers, looking up at Eli. “I’ll go.”
Eyebrow lifting, I rear back in surprise. “Can you even ride that thing?”
“Looks pretty easy.” She glances behind her, then back at me, blue eyes shining under the dim light. “Just squeeze my thighs and hold on tight, right?”
The words land straight in my gut, hot and unintentional, but completely lethal. Eli splutters, coughing into his arm, while Beau snorts into his beer with smug amusement. Paige’s eyes go round, her head whipping between the three of us as she realizes what she just said.
“Wait— I didn’t—”
“Uh-huh.”
“Oh, fuck you,” she groans, laughing, half-mortified, half-amused, ducking her head and bringing her drink to her lips.
My eyes are drawn to the curve of her mouth as it circles the straw. A flush spreads down her throat, and her legs press together as she shifts her weight, and all I can picture is her in my lap instead of that bull. Thighs tight, trembling, and so fucking perfect.
“Don’t tempt me,” I mutter.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She watches me, tilting her head, chewing the inside of her cheek before Eli steps forward, grabbing the nearest cowboy hat off the wall and plopping it on her head. “Show us what you’ve got, then.”
Running a finger along the brim, she tosses me one last look over her shoulder before rounding the barrier and swinging a leg over the bull. One hand grips the rope, the other hovering over her thigh.
A small crowd closes in, the girl with the long auburn hair and eyes so blue they look like the ocean on a clear day pulling everyone into her spell. I’m no different, locked on her without a choice or reason.
Paige sits tall, thighs squeezing tight just like she said, confidence rolling off of her in waves. When it jerks beneath her, she doesn’t flinch, riding with it, hips rolling in a slow, fluid rhythm that should be illegal in public. Controlled. Certain. Pure seduction disguised as balance.
My breath catches. I don’t cheer, don’t blink, just watch.
She glances at me for a split second as she finds the beat, syncing to the bull’s lurch and sway. Her hair flies as it picks up speed, hand reaching up to catch the cowboy hat, holding it in place as laughter spills out from her like it’s been trapped in there too long.
And God, that laugh. It hits me straight in the chest every damn time, taking something vital with it. And when she looks at me again, eyes locking mid-ride, I forget how to breathe entirely.
I lift my beer, hiding the hitch of my lips, and just like that, she falters.
A flash of surprise crosses her face before the bull bucks hard, and she loses her grip.
In a blur of legs and denim, she tumbles backward onto the mat, laughter still tearing from her throat as she lands in a sprawl, hat long gone, hair fanned out like wildfire.
She sits up, flicking the strands away from her face, eyes scanning the crowd until they find me again. Lifting her hand, she points straight at me. “That was your fault.”
I glance at the guys, my eyebrows knitting together. “How?”
“You smiled.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.” She stands, brushing herself off. “You smiled, and I thought something was wrong with your face. It threw me off.”
The guys crack up, but I don’t hear it. Not when she crosses the mat and presses a finger to my cheek. I didn’t know I was smiling and didn’t think she’d even notice.
“See! There it is again.”
Eli steps forward, grabbing my face with both hands and bringing it closer to his, turning it from side to side. “Holy shit, I think he has dimples.”
“Is that what they are?” Paige teases. “No wonder I lost my groove.”
“Okay, that’s enough,” I mutter, swatting Eli’s hands away. “Can we stop inspecting my face, please?”
“But why?” Eli chuckles, a tipsy grin sliding onto his face. “You’ve been all happy and shit lately. It’s weird.”
Risking a glance at Paige, she chews on the corner of her lip, her eyes averting back to the bull with a new rider on it.
“Maybe he hit his head,” Beau mutters, smirking behind his beer.
Schooling my face, I lift my glass in mock salute. “My bad. Won’t happen again.”
But it’s already too late. The damage is done. She’s looking at me, breathless, lips parted like she doesn’t know what to do with this version of me.
Beau claps her shoulder, dragging her sideways into his space with a chuckle, his tattooed arm slung around her neck.
“Best ride of the night,” he tells her as he pulls her into a hug.
She grins, sagging against him, but her attention slides back to me.
And that look? That’s all mine.
And now I’m searching for ways to find another loophole.