Chapter 65
O nce we’re backstage at the venue, Peace and Carson skip off like they’re the leads in a romantic comedy.
“What?” I snap at George, my guitar tech, when he approaches me.
His eyes widen beneath the brim of his Black Cat Records ballcap. “I just wanted to let you know you’ll have to use your Epiphone for ‘Wish On’ tonight.”
“No way.” I shake my head in refusal while also trying to clear it from the jealous haze. I can’t have Peace, but no way do I want Carson with her either. “What the fuck is wrong with my Les Paul?”
“Busted machine head.” George’s shoulders come up, nearly touching his ears. “And we don’t have a replacement part.”
“How the fuck did this happen?” I frown.
“Levi was playing around with the groupies. He bumped into me when I was holding it. I’m sorry. It’s totally my fault.”
“It’s mine.” I should have been here. Instead, I was chasing down a beautiful brown-eyed blonde and an impossible dream.
I hear a giggle. Lifting my gaze, I locate Carson and Peace. They’re messing around by the food tables. He’s tickling her. She giggles louder, and my fingers ball into fists when he sits on a folding chair and pulls her onto his lap.
Oh, hell no. I march determinedly across the space while avoiding techs getting ready for sound check.
“Excuse me,” I mutter, nearly plowing into a roadie pushing a dolly stacked with amps. Peripherally, I realize George is shadowing me. But I can’t focus on him and the Les Paul issue right now.
“Don’t you have work to do?” I shout as I reach Peace and Carson.
They both glance up at me.
“Not time for sound check yet.” Carson plucks a cracker smothered in soft cheese and herbs from the table and offers it to Peace. “Open up, baby.”
“I don’t like scallions.” She shakes her head and presses her sexy lips together.
“Okay.” He pops the appetizer into his own mouth.
“I meant you.” I capture Peace’s chin and gently turn her head so she’s forced to look at me rather than at Carson. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing shit to make sure the band is happy and our tour runs smoothly?”
Her gaze narrows. “Melinda didn’t say anything about making you happy.” After serving me that attitude, Peace’s wet tongue darts out to moisten her lips. Imagining those lips of hers wrapped around my shaft makes it go from semi-interested to a raging hard-on.
“You can make me happy anytime you want.” Carson taps Peace’s arm to regain her attention.
“Shut up, Car.” I glare at him and pull her off his lap. “Go find something else to do.”
“Sure, man.” Carson grins. “I’ll go round up Levi and Stevie. Need to introduce them to Peace.” He struts away, grinning and whistling like he’s insanely pleased with himself for some unknown reason.
“Peace.” I bring her closer to me. As her rose scent stirs up more memories from last night, I frame her pretty face and brush my thumbs across her delicate jawline. Her lids flutter with pleasure. “I asked you a question,” I say softly.
“What question?” Her beautiful eyes are smoky behind her lenses.
Hell if I remember or even care at this point. I slide my hands into her hair, reveling in the silkiness of the strands. My body is on fire. Touching her is an aphrodisiac, an addiction just like everything involving her.
“Bo.” A moan slips from her lips, and my gaze falls to her tempting mouth again.
“Um, boss. About the guitar.”
“What?” I bark at George, who shifts his weight from one foot to another, looking like he wishes he could be anywhere but here.
“What’s wrong with your guitar?” Peace asks.
“Needs a part,” I answer. Reluctantly removing my hands from her hair, I’m disappointed to see the smoke has cleared from her eyes. “A part we apparently don’t have in stock.”
“Well.” She pushes her glasses into place. “I’m pretty certain this is a problem that falls under my jurisdiction.”
“Who are you?” George asks her, his gaze going to her tits.
“Peace Jinkins.” She holds out her hand and George’s gaze rises. “Black Cat Records intern.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m George.” Appearing instantly besotted, he takes her hand and holds it way too long for my liking.
“If you can tell me what part you need”—Peace puts her hands on her curvy hips—“I’ll see if I can find a guitar shop in the area that has it in stock.”
“Sure, I guess.” George doesn’t seem really enthused about her taking off. Truth is I’m not either.
“If you can locate the part,” I say, “I’ll take you to get it.”
“Yo, man.” Stevie draws everyone’s attention as he approaches with Carson and his brother, Levi, in tow. Shoulders back, the cocky bassist stops in front of Peace and gives her a flirty grin. It’s obvious he thinks his arrival makes him the king of her world. “Good to have you back, brother.” He spares me a glance, a huge chunk of his brown hair shadowing his eyes that are the same color. “Glad you’re out of jail.”
“Thanks.” I lift my chin.
“Heard Queen Melinda is giving you a hard time.”
“Yeah.” I gesture to Peace. “She sent me a babysitter for the duration of the tour.”
“Sweet.” Stevie brings his lit cigarette to his mouth and takes a drag while blatantly checking Peace out. Exhaling a plume, he says, “Car mentioned you were pretty.”
Peace coughs and waves away the smoke.
“But he failed to mention how hot you are.” Stevie starts to move closer to her, but I block him, putting myself in his way.
“Back the fuck up,” I warn. Snatching his cigarette from his hand, I shove him away from her and get my own much-needed shot of nicotine.
“You calling dibs?” Stevie cocks his head, the longer strands of his hair sliding away to reveal a new silver hoop in the lobe.
“Not calling anything, but she’s off-limits.” The lit cigarette I stole from him bobs between my lips.
“Who says she’s off the menu?” Levi steps closer. Studying Peace, he narrows his eyes that are the same shade of medium brown as his brother’s.
“Boss says.” I shrug and exhale smoke. For the first time in my life, I’m grateful for one of the label’s restrictions.
“She almost lost her job for having sex with this asshole.” Carson points at me. “Sucks since he mentioned she’s the best he ever had.”
Fucking hell, Carson shouldn’t have shared that. I glare at him while feeling the left side of my face catch fire since Peace is attempting to incinerate me with her eyes.
“And now you’re saying she’s off-limits.” Stevie whistles under his breath and gives Peace another once-over. “That just doesn’t seem fair.”
“Seems pretty damn selfish,” Levi adds, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Listen up, assholes.” I drop the cigarette and stomp it out under my boot. “About Peace?—”
“I can speak for myself,” Peace cuts me off and offers her hand to Stevie. “I’m Peace Jinkins. Intern for Black Cat.”
“Stevie ‘the 8th wonder’ Meyers.” He clasps her hand. “Nice to officially meet you, darlin’.”
“Likewise.” She nods, her cheeks flushed. “You’re the bassist.”
“Yeah.” He lowers his voice. “But that’s not how I earned the nickname.”
“Give it a rest.” I shove him in the shoulder. “She’s not interested in what you’re offering.”
“I believe I heard the lady say she can speak for herself.” Stevie gives me a pointed look with one of his dark brows raised before returning his focus to her.
“I’m Levi Meyers.” Our drummer holds out his hand to Peace. He’s less cocky than his older sibling, but once he gets revved up, he’s got just as much game with the ladies, more in some ways.
“They call you ‘the hammer.’” She grasps his fingers.
“They do.” He brings her hand to his mouth and dials up the smolder. “I’d be happy to show you why. Anytime you’re ready, come see me.”
I frown at him.
“Your job is safe with us,” Stevie chimes in. “You wanna ride cock, we volunteer, and we won’t tell a soul.” Pushing his brother out of the way, he grabs her hand. He kisses the back of it and glances up at her.
I growl and Peace gives me a sharp look.
“Okay, boys.” She pulls her hand free. “I’ll keep your offers in mind.”
She better not.
“I’ve read all your official bios,” she says. “They need to be updated. I plan to work on them.”
I relax a bit with her focusing on her job, like Melinda told her to.
“Work on me first.” Carson grins.
“Regarding the heavy come-on routines.” Her lips flatten. “They’re cute. I’m flattered. You’re all very handsome.”
What the fuck? I scowl at her. I do not want her noticing that my bandmates are good-looking guys. I don’t want her even looking at them or any guy, for that matter.
“But I’m just here to do my job,” she continues, her tone briskly efficient. She shoots me a look. I get that she’s letting me know I’m not a distraction. “My focus at college is marketing. And it won’t be difficult to market your band. Your album totally rocks. You’re all talented musicians. It was great seeing you perform live in Seattle. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a task to complete to ensure tonight’s performance goes just as well.”