Chapter 66
W atching Bo onstage for sound check, I lean against a column and decide the guitar store errand can wait. He looks magnificent standing on Carson’s right with his shiny Black Epiphone strapped to his shoulder. My eyes burn. No matter what’s going on between us, I tell myself that I’m happy he’s living out his dream with bandmates who are obviously friends. Sure, it hurts that he has a history with them that I don’t. My heart aches for what I lost, but I know onstage is where Bo belongs.
As the raucous number they’re practicing reaches a crescendo, Bo windmills his arm. His fingers miraculously find the right chords each time he strokes the strings. The crew stops what they’re doing and drifts closer like I did earlier. A few groupies ooze out of the shadows. Even hidden, I knew they were around. There was a long line of them waiting to get inside the building when we drove up. Leather and lace enticements, the guys will have their pick after the show tonight, maybe even before it. Imagining Bo with one of them makes my chest hurt.
Stop it, Peace. I attempt to rub away the ache. Glancing at myself in my faded jeans and my favorite vintage Brutal Strength concert T-shirt, I know I don’t rank as competition for Bo’s attention. I’m not even in the running, though his bandmates certainly acted like I was. A smile ghosts my lips. His bandmates are a total trip, all players, even Bo.
Putting things into perspective, I remind myself that I have a job to do. Bo, as my former best friend and a one-night stand, represents the past. He has this life. He earned it. He set a goal and he achieved it. I always believed he would. But I don’t belong, not now with the way things are between us.
“What’s up?” Bo strides toward me, his long legs quickly eating up the distance and his wallet chain swaying. “Take this.” He unstraps his guitar and hands it to George.
“I located the part you need.” I shake away the longing that looking at him causes. Swallowing to moisten my dry throat, I hold up my phone. Be professional, Peace. No gawking. “I just stopped by to ask if you needed anything, and I wanted to let you know where I’ll be.”
“I said I’d go with you.” His dark brows slash together.
“I know you did, but I figured you were busy.” I gesture to indicate all the activity around us, including the scantily clad distractions who are just waiting for him to crook his finger.
“Not letting you get into a hired car alone with a stranger.” He frowns. “How far away is the store?”
I glance down at my phone, my breath catching as he steps closer.
Damn, he smells good. Woodsy and smoky. Tempting and masculine with a dash of spice. Desire raises my body temperature to about a bazillion degrees. My legs begin to quiver.
“You okay?” he asks in a deep rumble.
“Yes, of course. Here.” I show him my phone.
“Steady now.” His fingers close around my wrist. “Can’t see the address or the mileage.” My chest flutters as he brings my cell closer to his handsome face. My pulse beats wildly beneath his firm grip.
“Ten miles isn’t too far.” His warm, minty breath stirs wisps of my hair. “Hey, guys,” he announces to his buddies, who are still onstage. “I’m taking the intern to the guitar store.”
“Have fun, kids.” Carson’s mouth quirks as he glances our way. “But not too much. Remember we have a meet and greet scheduled before the show.”
“Noted.” Bo lifts his chin.
“I’ll get him back in time.” I haven’t forgotten Melinda’s instructions.
“We’ll see.” Bo lets me have my phone back and throws his arm around me.
“What do you mean?” A wave of heat crashing over me, I try not to melt into a puddle. I make myself focus on his handsome face as he steers me toward the exit, rather than on how amazing it feels to have his strong arm around me. Several groupies track our passage through the backstage area. I note the speculation gleaming in their gazes. One with dark hair and striking blue eyes seems particularly interested in us.
“Means I’m taking you on the bike.” He punches the metal bar to open the exit door. The outside Texas heat blasts me, but I have to ask.
“What bike?” My brow furrows in confusion. I’m not pedaling ten miles in Dallas traffic.
“That one.” He points and my eyes round.
“You have a motorcycle?” I ask, though the answer is obvious.
“The Harley Davidson Break Master 124 is not just a motorcycle.” He drags me toward a huge chrome contraption.
“It sure looks like one to me.” It’s big, shiny, and intimidating as hell just like Bo.
“Technically, I share the Harley with my bandmates.” He grabs one of the two helmets that were resting on top of the black leather seat and offers it to me.
“I’m not putting that on.” I wave it away.
“Yes, you are,” he insists. “You have to wear the helmet to ride, and I pulled the Break Master off the trailer myself so that we could go to the guitar shop together.”
“Not going. Not on that.” I shake my head. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not?” He gives me a quizzical look. “It’s perfectly safe.”
“It’s dangerous.” Like him.
“I’m an excellent driver.” His lips slowly curve, and I gape at him as he positions the helmet above my head and pops it into place.
“I don’t doubt you are. You’re good at a lot of things,” I grumble, though secretly I like how my reticence seems to amuse him. “But that thing”—I point—“is a deathtrap on wheels.”
“How do you know you won’t like it unless you try it?” He buckles the chin strap. “After all…” He trails off, his eyes coming up and holding mine. “It only took one time with you for me to conclude that you’re the best I ever had.”
“If it was the best”—I shiver at the rich and smoky timbre of his voice—“why did you leave without even saying goodbye?”
“We agreed upfront to the one night.” He grabs the other helmet and slams the tinted visor down.
“I’m not done talking about this, Bo,” I complain as he lifts me in the air like I don’t weigh anything and places me on the seat of the Harley.
“I am,” he says firmly. “Get your feet on the footrests and keep them away from the mufflers.” He points. “Those get hot and can burn you.”
“Lots can burn you if you’re not careful,” I mutter. Like having hot sex with your best friend, then getting dumped the next morning.
“Hold on to me. Don’t let go.” He straddles the bike. With his long legs, he makes it look effortless to get on. He rises in the saddle. Looking at his fine ass right there in front of me, I decide that the denim’s sole function seems to be to entice me. “Hands, Peace.” He breaks through my thoughts. “Around my waist now.”
“Bossy man,” I complain, but I do as he says.
“Stubborn woman.” He twists the key to start the engine and the rumble startles me, then startles me again as he revs it.
“Bo, I’m scared.” I tighten my arms around his trim waist as we lurch forward. My heart is galloping behind my ribs.
“Don’t be afraid.” He takes his right hand off the handlebar and squeezes both of mine, pressing them deeper into his hard abs. “I’ll take care of you.” Through the Bluetooth connected speakers inside my helmet, his perfectly pitched voice flows into my ears.
“Okay.” I’m seduced into submission. Heat pooling between my trembling thighs, I press closer to him. With my breasts crushed to the hard planes of his back and my thighs around him, if it were up to me, I’d hold on to him like this forever. The deep-rooted desire to be close to him hasn’t changed since we were kids.
“I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” He squeezes my hands one more time for emphasis, then regrips his handlebar. “You can trust me.”
I believe him but only involving matters that don’t pertain to my heart.
Deftly, he steers the Harley around concrete barriers and other obstacles in the parking lot. He seems more than capable. I try not to be scared and ignore the way my body hums being close to him like this. Shifting in my seat, I find some friction for the growing ache between my legs, but it’s not enough. I want him to take care of me sexually, but I know that’s not the kind of care he’s interested in offering me.
I don’t let my disappointment take hold. I tell myself to enjoy what I have. Laying my cheek against his strong shoulder, I eventually relax enough to watch the world go by. Despite what has happened, I do trust Bo. Maybe I shouldn’t after he walked away from me and said the things he did, but we have a history, and he’s proven many times that my safety is important to him.
On the other hand, being kept safe isn’t what I want the most. He is. Maybe to get him, I should take another leap into the unknown. Maybe to soar the way I really want to, I only need another opportunity to spread my wings. Unfortunately, I crashed the last time I leaped. Now I’m pretty sure my fear of falling is greater than my desire to fly.