Chapter 5
Angus
I don’t know what it is about Ryleigh that gets under my skin, but something about her rubs me the wrong way.
I’m sure part of it is the fact that she’s hot, but my gut tells me she’s here for more than some happy little story about the trials and tribulations of being a new band.
No, she has a goal.
I don’t know what it is, but I intend to find out.
First thing in the morning, I call Sasha. She has a family with two young children, so she doesn’t travel with us, though she comes to random shows.
“Hey, Angus. What’s up?”
“What is she doing here?” I ask.
“Who? Ryleigh?”
“Yes, Ryleigh.” I don’t know why I’m pissed but I am.
“I thought we already talked about this. Rock Harder Magazine called and asked if we’d like some coverage on tour and I said yes. It’s amazing that they want to cover you guys in this capacity. Is there a problem?”
Is there?
I honestly don’t know what it is about Ryleigh that annoys me.
I was both annoyed and turned on last night.
Those taut nipples peeking through the fabric of her top had me sporting a semi.
The way she looked at me with her icy green eyes.
The way that gorgeous red hair of hers moves when she turns her head…fuck me.
Why am I so crazy when it comes to redheads?
“I wish I’d known ahead of time,” I say tightly. “You know I like my privacy.”
“Absolutely, but we’re trying to put Crimson Edge on the map—and a feature in Rock Harder Magazine could help with that. They’ve been outselling Rolling Stone in the last year, so we want their readers to know more about us. Don’t we?”
“Yeah.” I huff out a breath.
I’m genuinely confused as to the reaction I’m having to Ryleigh.
“What did she do?”
“Nothing specific. There’s something about her. I can’t put my finger on it.”
“You think she’s after more than the basic story we talked about.”
“Absolutely. She’s hungry. And she has something to prove.”
“What is there to find? None of you have criminal records, Sam and Kirsten are so sweet and wholesome it’s almost gross, and you’re not making enough money to get into trouble yet. Does anyone have a drug problem I’m not aware of?”
“No.”
“Look, she’s only going to be with you a few weeks. Can you behave for that long?”
Can I?
Sure.
Do I want to?
Not even a little.
“Yeah. Of course.” I pull in a breath. “Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I guess I’m feeling a little overprotective of the band and what we’re trying to do here. And I’m telling you, there’s more to this than meets the eye.”
Or maybe it’s my own shit, since I’m hiding something, and I don’t know how much Sasha knows. The background check was done because of our potential proximity to the royal family, and Sasha is the stepdaughter of a king. They never brought it up, though, so I’ve let it ride for my own comfort. Probably a mistake, but it’s too late to second guess that decision.
“I’ll check in with her regularly and make sure she understands that if her intention is to write a click bait piece, we’ll send her packing.”
“All right. Thanks.”
We talk for another minute and then disconnect.
I wander down to the restaurant in search of breakfast and find Tate there waiting at the omelet bar.
“Who pissed in your cereal?” Tate asks when he sees me.
“I don’t like journalists,” I grunt.
He laughs. “You mean the hot redhead currently on tour with us?”
“Especially her.”
The fucker grins. “So you want to sleep with her.”
“What are you talking about? I’m worried about what she’s going to say about us.”
He gazes across the restaurant and shrugs. “I don’t know—Jonny seems to like her. They’re having breakfast together.”
Of course she’s talking to Jonny—he’s the band’s attention whore. He’s also charming, funny, and a great conversationalist. Good-looking too. As long as he doesn’t have his tongue down someone’s throat, he does a great interview.
Better him than me.
“You’d better behave,” Tate mutters, kicking my foot. “Be nice.”
I have no intention of being not nice, but I won’t be nice either. She’ll have to settle for somewhere in the middle. Or maybe I’m the one who’ll have to settle. She doesn’t seem to be thinking about me at all.
I place my order and then sit at a table for two with Tate. I find her in my peripheral vision and?—
Fuck, she’s gorgeous.
If it were anyone else, I’d have slept with her already and gotten it out of my system.
But last night’s conversation left a bad taste in my mouth.
Partly because I genuinely think she’s up to something, but also because I didn’t have to turn it into a confrontation. I could have just played it cool, kept my cards close to the vest and let things play out. Instead, I lost my temper.
Now I’ve alienated her and that won’t be good for either of us.
I should apologize.
I just don’t know what I would apologize for.
For being rude even though I bought her dinner?
For calling her out on her own statements?
For wanting to sleep with her?
“You want coffee?” Tate asks me.
“I’ll get it, but thanks.” I stand up and look in the direction where Ryleigh and Jonny are sitting. I have to pass them to get to the coffee station.
I can be polite, right?
I hurry in that direction, pausing at their table.
“Good morning.” The greeting is for both of them, but my eyes immediately find Ryleigh’s.
Hers are dark, shuttered, this morning.
She’s still mad.
But she’s polite as well.
“Good morning.” She stands up. “I’m going to get more coffee.” She walks away and I hesitate. Do I follow or just let it go?
“You should go after her,” Jonny murmurs, arching his brows. “I mean, you look like a dog in heat so you might as well go for it.”
“I just need to ask her something,” I mutter.
“Uh huh.” He chuckles, but I don’t have time to have a conversation with him right now. And if I don’t hurry, I won’t be able to talk to her alone.
I follow her to the coffee station and quickly grab a cup.
“Hey. About last night—I owe you an apology.”
“You do.” She doesn’t look at me as she fills her cup almost to the brim.
“Well, I’m sorry if I offended you.”
“Okay.” She takes a sip, apparently waiting for me to continue.
Great.
Instead of simply accepting my apology and moving on, she’s going to bust my balls.
I probably deserve it, but for some reason I can’t quite bring myself back down.
“It’s customary to accept when an apology is offered,” I taunt.
“Is it also customary to question someone’s integrity for no reason?”
“I’m allowed to ask questions about who you are and what you’re doing here,” I protest. “Just like you are. But I’m apologizing for the way those questions came across.”
Her eyes meet mine.
Emerald orbs that pierce my gaze.
God damn, she’s pretty .
Especially when she’s pissed.
I almost smile but manage not to.
“Your eyes are really green,” I say instead.
Maybe turning on the charm will work.
Her brows knit together in obvious annoyance. “Excuse me?”
“I was just noticing how green your eyes are. Does that offend you as well?”
Now I’m just fucking with her.
I can’t seem to help myself.
She rolls her eyes. “No, it doesn’t offend me. But an offhand compliment doesn’t compensate for last night’s rudeness.”
“What about dinner? Another dinner, I mean. Will that compensate?”
What the hell did I just do?
I just asked her out.
Fuck. Me.
She looks confused as well. “Are you… asking me out?”
Christ.
Am I?
I did, but it’s better if I don’t.
So I back pedal. “No. I mean, yes, but not in a romantic way. I’d like to buy you lunch or dinner and we can give ourselves a second chance to get to know each other. Anywhere you want to go. My treat.”
Now she smiles, but it’s calculating and mischievous. “Anywhere?”
Oh, I have a feeling she’s going to get me on this, but I’m in too deep to get out now.
“Anywhere.”
“Like… high tea at the St. Regis?”
High tea?
At one of the most expensive hotel chains in the country?
She’s good.
And I can’t help myself—I laugh.
“Sure. If that’s what it’ll take to get you to forgive me, why not?”
“Do you own dress clothes?” She wrinkles her nose. “They won’t let you in if you’re wearing leather.”
“Sweetheart, they’ll let me in. Don’t worry about how I dress. You figure out which town has a St. Regis and is serving tea or brunch on a day we’re there and make the reservation. Just tell me when.”
“Deal.” She turns on her heel and sashays back to Jonny.
I watch the sway of her ass with a rueful smile.
No matter how much I want to stay away from her, I can’t seem to help but find ways to see more of her.
Like she’s not already on tour with us.
“I don’t know what the hell just happened,” Tate says, joining me at the coffee station, “but you look like a guy who just fell in love.”
I grunt. “Not hardly. I found a way to apologize but something tells me I just got played.”
He throws back his head and laughs. “Like I said, a guy who’s falling in love.”
“ Dude .” I shake my head, though I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince. “That’s the opposite of what’s happening. I don’t even like her. I just have to find a way to co-exist with her while she’s here.”
“Opposites attract, my friend. Also, she’s a redhead , and we both know how stupid you get with redheads.”
Ugh.
He isn’t kidding.
Somehow, I have to find a way to keep things on an even keel with Ryleigh without letting my libido override my good sense.
Historically, that’s been a problem for me.
“Come on.” Tate nudges me. “I’ll protect you from the mean, nosy redhead.”
I laugh because it sounds good in theory, but in practice?
Who’s going to protect me from myself?