Chapter One #3
Just like that, my privacy was gone.
Tim tugged on my hand one more time as he turned and took a step, then opened the door.
I didn’t know what to expect. I entered my dressing room feeling like a little girl coming to her first day at school. I didn’t know why, but something in me screamed that my life was about to change. It wasn’t this new situation that had Tim acting like a timid rabbit.
Tim stepped aside, pulling me into the room, and my eyes fell on a man sitting in the far corner, his eyes trained on us.
On me.
Seeing him for the first time, I felt like I was floating. Blood rushed to my head, tingles ran down my neck and arms. The floor beneath my feet seemed gone, and my lungs filled with fresh air. It was like I took a breath for the very first time.
The man slowly put his hands on the armrests of the chair he was sitting in and stood up.
He never took his eyes from mine. He had deep set, brown eyes.
No, not just brown. Cognac. They slowly warmed from inside out just like the drink itself would, and he kept them trained on me like it was his only purpose in life.
Or like we were in a staring contest.
Who’s going to crack first?
Usually, I was good at staring uncomfortable things in the face, but not this time. If we kept at it any longer I was in serious danger of either floating away, or collapsing on the floor.
So, I broke the contact. And I gave that man his first win.
My eyes swept him up and down in fast motion. I couldn’t help myself.
He was big, and tall. That was all I captured before I focused on his face again.
He had an angular face, with squarish jawline that was made even more prominent by his beard.
Brown hair, faded on the sides, longish on top.
Just the right amount of hair to slide your fingers in and take a fistful as his head is between your legs.
I was a visual person; I could see it clear as day in my mind.
Damn, where did that come from?
Great, now there was a heat rush between my legs just from the image conjured by that fleeting thought.
I forced my eyes away from his hair, and the images that said hair sparked in me, and continued my assessment. Dark and defined eyebrows, spectacularly colored eyes that were crowned by lush lashes meant for a girl, but were somehow gracing his face and making those eyes piercing.
Straight, sturdy nose, underneath which sat a set of fool lips that were now stretched into a knowing smirk.
Busted.
I looked up quickly, and I was positive he knew what I was thinking about and what I was looking at in my mind’s eye.
This wouldn’t do. If we had any chance of working together, he couldn’t know my most secret private thoughts. I had to keep him at arm’s length, or he would bulldoze all over me.
Focus, Harley! I scolded myself.
It was time to act professionally and not like a teenage girl getting the first real look at her celebrity crush. Squaring my shoulders, I was about to lay some ground rules, but then my eyes caught it.
His neck. Or rather, the tattoo on his neck.
There were four butterflies on it, all in dark ink, no trace of color. The detail of their wings was magnificent. It was clear a lot of work went into those.
I never knew, never even imagined I would someday witness pure perfection, but there it was. Standing in my dressing room, after a gig, feeling drained and exhausted, and agreeing to something I fought against my entire life, I was graced with a moment of beauty.
I didn’t know the meaning of them. I would probably never know. But in my poet’s soul I was certain. Those butterflies were the most beautiful thing I ever would see. They were pure perfection.
Then, he tilted his head as if he knew I was tracing every line of his ink, and I noticed that not all four were perfect. One had a broken wing.
Seeing that imperfection, that crack on such a delicate piece, made my nose sting and the feeling of rushing water invaded my sinuses.
Tom cleared his throat, and shifted slightly. “Harley, this is Carter Ryan. He’s going to make sure that you’re safe.” His tone had gone flat, like he was a robot. Like he couldn’t stand saying this man’s name.
I waited, but Crater Ryan just stood there. There was no offer of a handshake. No mild tilting of his lips in a reassuring smile. No incline of his head.
There was nothing.
I looked up at Tim, who bugged his eyes at me in clear sign that he too found this man’s behavior weird.
I took a tiny step closer, but when Carter’s eyes fell on my foot, I stopped like I slammed into a wall. Swallowing, I offered a tiny, trembling smile. “Hey, I’m Harley.”
At the sound of my scratchy voice after having sung for the last three hours voice, his eyes cut to mine. That got a reaction out of him. A knowing smirk played on his mouth.
I gave him his second win. I knew it made me childish. I knew it was the wrong thing to do. But seeing that smirk and knowing I just gave complete control of my life to a stranger, I turned around and stormed out of the dressing room.