8. Molly
8
MOLLY
“ S o what exactly did you do out there on the road with all those guys?”
The guy next to me slid my beer closer to my hand and looked down at me like he was staring at some sort of interesting kitten.
I didn’t like the look he was giving me. But I did like the tight t-shirt, equally tight jeans, and movie star good looks. He had tousled blond hair and wide green eyes. Dimples that any girl back home would have killed for.
And he was sitting next to me.
I tossed a glance over my shoulder to make sure the girls from the office were still there, and Dana, the girl who’d taken me under her wing, gave me a jaunty wave and a wink. I grinned back at her, feeling like I was somehow floating. This was unreal. I was sitting at a bar in LA with a bunch of new friends, listening to music they never would have played in Nashville and celebrating my first week on a brand new job. And the hottest guy in the bar had just bought me a beer.
I had gone from tomboy roadie for a band full of her brothers to hot new girl in the office.
Okay, maybe not hot. But definitely new girl that other people wanted to hang out with. And it all felt so natural, like this was how my life was meant to go. New friends. New home. New city. I was growing and shining like I’d never done before, and it was easy. Everything was sunny here. No smoke or shadows to creep in from the corners and ruin things. No Noah with his expectations about who and what I was and always would be.
No confusion. No mixed messages.
Honestly, I kind of liked it.
“Whatever they asked me to,” I told the guy honestly. “Moved equipment. Made sure they got to meetings on time. Kept their calendars clean.”
He bumped my shoulder with his and smiled suggestively. “And their beds warm? I’ve heard about roadies on tour with a bunch of guys.”
My hands curled into fists at the implication that I’d been sleeping with any of them. Those were my brothers he was talking about. Okay, not really my brothers, but even so. I wasn’t there to sleep with them.
Except when I occasionally fell asleep in Noah’s bed. And that was actual sleeping.
Instead of saying any of that, I gave him a sly smile of my own. “You’ve obviously never been on tour. You’re confusing roadies with groupies.”
At this, his brow creased, making him even more handsome. “What’s the difference?”
“Oh ye of little experience,” I intoned, rolling my eyes to the heavens. “Must I teach you everything?”
He put a hand in my hair and twisted it slowly, moving his face closer to mine until I could feel the heat coming from his lips. “That depends on what you want to teach me.”
My breath hitched and I bit my lip. I’d been having fun flirting with the guy, but hadn’t expected him to get so close to me so quickly. I wasn’t sure I liked it. And I definitely didn’t like that my body was reacting to him. My back arched, pushing me closer to him, and I could feel heat blooming between my legs. God damn the instinctive reaction to attention from a guy. Damn those charming green eyes and smirking mouth. I realized I was staring at that mouth and jerked my gaze back up to see those eyes laughing at me like he knew exactly what I was thinking.
When he leaned in and brushed his lips over mine, I almost moaned out loud.
Then my phone started going off in my pocket and I jerked, breaking the kiss. His expression went confused, and then cold and scornful, and he drew back with a scowl.
“What’s that?”
“Phone,” I said unnecessarily, jerking it out of my pocket and scanning the screen. New email, evidently. And I could just let it sit. After all, it was Friday night and I was off work, officially speaking. But I was also new to the job. And expecting important information. I’d turned my NDAs in to Janette earlier in the week but still hadn’t had any confirmation about when I was leaving, or who I was going on tour with. I’d been eating, sleeping, and dreaming about the question ever since she told me, and I knew for a fact she’d still been working when we left the office.
Maybe she’d sent me an update.
I hit the icon for email and scanned the new messages. Spam, spam, spam, email about meetings next week in the office, and something from one of my new friends about plans for the weekend. Nothing interesting. Then I saw the email from Janette. Labeled ‘Tour Information.’
This was it. I was actually getting my first assignment.
I hit the message to open it and read through it quickly. Then I paused, gulped, and read through it again.
No. This couldn’t be right. Maybe there were two photographers going out on the road and she’d sent me the wrong email. Surely she wouldn’t have done this.
Although maybe she didn’t know.
Or maybe she did, and she’d done it all on purpose as some sort of publicity stunt. Maybe she’d thought it was a good idea–or that I’d appreciate the idea of being sent home again.
“Anything important?” Dimpled Guy asked, scooting closer.
I glanced up at him and then got off my bar stool, already on my way to the door. I needed to get home and start packing, because according to this email, I was going to be leaving the day after tomorrow. And I had some research to do.
Or rather... I needed to figure out how I was going to handle this.
“Very important. Good to meet you. I’ve got to run,” I said quickly.
I didn’t wait to hear his answer. My mind was back on the email, and jumping ahead of me to try to figure out what I was going to do about it. Because I wasn’t just going on tour with some unknown band.
I was being sent to the Global Authors tour.
With orders to focus on the lead singer–Rivers Shine–and his best friend in the world, Noah Michael. The magazine wanted to run a feature on the two of them, and my photographs were going to provide the color for the story.
I’d run from Noah, wanting to make my own life and find a career of my own. And now I was going right back to covering Noah. This time, as a photographer for the biggest magazine in the country.