Chapter 20
Ryleigh
Having a day with no travel, nowhere to be, and nothing to do is amazing.
It’s been nice just hanging out in the hotel room.
As much as it pains me to admit it, Angus is charming, sweet, and interesting. He’s also caring and thoughtful, two words I never thought I would use to describe him. We talked, he found me the best tuna melt I’ve had in a long time, and then had Chinese food delivered to the room for dinner.
We watched a movie until I fell asleep and the next thing I know, it’s morning—and he’s letting himself into my room.
“Normally, I would knock,” he says, “but for one more day I want to keep an eye on you.”
“It’s not necessary,” I say quietly, sitting up in bed.
“It is. I owed you one.”
“Look.” Now that I’m feeling better, and today I can already tell I feel a lot better, there’s no reason not to address the elephant in the room. “Just because we had a disastrous one-night stand doesn’t mean?—”
“There was nothing disastrous about that night except the way I left,” he interrupts, his eyes darkening as he moves toward the bed.
“I just mean that we don’t have to make it weird. We can go back to the way things were before it happened and?—”
“You mean where we butt heads constantly in an attempt to pretend we don’t want to do it again?”
How the hell am I supposed to respond to that?
He’s right but he’s also wrong.
“We’re adults,” I say in frustration. “I’m pretty sure we can control our hormones for a few weeks until I leave the tour!”
“We didn’t even last a week, much less a few more of them,” he says, inching closer.
“If this is some awkward attempt at seduction, I have to warn you—I haven’t showered in more than forty-eight hours and my hair is greasier than it looks.”
His eyes turn to liquid fire, a storm brewing within them that’s a cross between annoyance and unbridled lust. It’s so intense I almost want to back away, but there’s nowhere for me to go since I’m still on the bed, and anyway, I’m not scared of him. Not much.
“Sweetheart, I don’t have an awkward bone in my body when it comes to seduction.” He leans over, putting one hand on either side of me. “And let’s be clear—your hair is what I love most about you—other than that sassy mouth and the way you put me in my place when I piss you off.”
He leans so close I swear he’s going to kiss me, but then he backs up and smiles. “You do need a shower, though. So how about we eat breakfast and then shower?”
I can’t tell if he intends to shower with me or for me to do it alone, and I’m not sure which I prefer.
“Wh-what’s for breakfast?” I try to ask as casually as possible, like my heart isn’t thundering against my ribs.
“Sausage, egg, and cheese bagels, breakfast potatoes, and hot chocolate. The coffee machine was broken.” He proffers a paper cup and I slowly get to my feet.
“Uh, bathroom first.”
I practically run in, closing the door behind me.
I don’t know what’s happening.
Is he trying to get me into bed again?
Do I want him to?
Well, duh.
What red-blooded woman wouldn’t want to get horizontal with Angus freakin’ Jeffries? Especially now that I know how good he is at the sex thing?
I brush my teeth and attempt to drag a comb through my thick hair, pulling it back in another ponytail. I desperately need to wash it. I desperately need to wash all of myself, but I’m hungry. Now that I’m feeling human again, I can start worrying about hygiene.
When I walk back into the room, Angus is sitting at the little desk eating. He turns to me, motioning to where he put my food next to the bed.
“Thanks.” I sit on the bed cross-legged and put a pillow on my lap to support the food. I take a bite of the sandwich and sigh happily. “Yum.”
“Not the healthiest, but after the last few days, you could eat something hearty. I was thinking if you’re up to it, we could go out to dinner. There are some great restaurants in St. Louis.”
I freeze.
I’m really not sure what to do. I’m at war with myself, trying to ascertain what he wants and how much I’m willing to put up with for an orgasm. Or two.
The thing is, I’m not really putting up with anything.
He’s sweet and attentive, if not a little overbearing. He’s charming in his own grumpy, alpha way, and when we’re not arguing, I truly enjoy our conversations. Hell, I enjoy our arguments too. When his eyes go all dark and stormy. Just like when he was fucking me.
There’s more to this guy than meets the eye, and I wish he’d let me in. Let me get close enough to see who the real Angus/August is. The problem, of course, could be that he doesn’t know himself.
“We could go out,” I say. “I don’t think I’m up for a long walk, but I’ll manage if we Uber.”
“I rented a car so we can get out of here first thing tomorrow. I picked it up this morning and got breakfast on the way here.”
“Oh. Then, yes, let’s go out. Where did you have in mind?”
“Do you like Italian?”
“Love it.”
“I know a place.” He grins, and I can’t help but get caught up in the excitement.
“Okay, but you have to go back to your own room because I need to shower, do my hair, and probably take a nap before I have the energy to go anywhere. And I’ll probably fall asleep before dessert.”
“We can get dessert to go. I promise to have you in bed by eight.”
My gaze snaps to his, and I know exactly what he’s thinking.
But I’m not going there.
I can’t.
* * *
I feel like a new woman after I shower, shave my legs, and deep condition my hair. I have to rest for a while before I can blow dry my hair but at least I feel refreshed. I told Angus we had to keep it casual because I don’t have it in me to dress up, and he said jeans and sandals would be fine.
I’m wearing cropped jeans with cute flats, a pretty top, and a touch of makeup. My hair is a little flat since I don’t have the energy to curl it, but I look better than I have for days, and my head has finally stopped pounding. The doctor told me my eardrum would heal on its own, but I need to be cognizant of any loss of hearing or other issues.
So far, I feel pretty good, all things considered, and no matter how hard I try to tell myself it’s not a date, I’m looking forward to spending another evening with Angus. The back and forth is stimulating, and even when we butt heads, his surly demeanor makes me laugh.
And he seems to like that.
There’s something in his eyes when I laugh, and it’s heady to impact a man like him. It’s just temporary, and I keep reminding myself of that when he shows up at my door looking like a whole snack in casual khakis and a polo shirt.
I force myself not to react when he casually slips his arm over my shoulders as we walk out to the rental car.
I refuse to allow myself to melt when he gives the ma?tre d his name and the man greets him like he’s someone important—and like they’re old friends.
“Are we underdressed?” I whisper to him once we’re seated.
He smiles. “As much as I hate to say this, when you’re rich, you can wear whatever the hell you want.”
“Good to know.”
Not that I’ll ever be rich but it’s good information to have.
On the off chance some other millionaire takes me to dinner.
The menu is filled with words I’m not familiar with, and it pisses me off that I have to google things like grana Padano, which is a cheese similar to parmesan, and farrotto, which is risotto made with farro instead of rice.
“I would try the pappardelle,” Angus suggests. “It’s amazing.”
“That’s my first choice. The duck looks good too, but I think it’ll be too heavy for my first big meal after not eating for three days.”
“Good idea.” He looks up at the waiter, asking for a bottle of Veuve Clicquot.
“Champagne,” I say regretfully. “I don’t think I’m supposed to drink when I’m on antibiotics.”
He grimaces. “Oh, shit. I forgot. Let me stop him.” He goes after the waiter, they exchange words, and he comes back with a smile. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. I hope you still ordered a glass for yourself.”
“I ordered a glass of red wine for me and a surprise for you.”
Why does he go from one extreme to the other in being nice?
I’m starting to get whiplash.
“You can be sweet when you want to be,” I say, shaking my head.
I don’t want to get used to it.
He gives a half-shrug. “I have my moments.”
“Don’t worry. I’m on the mend, so you won’t have to worry about me once we get to Nashville.”
His eyes are serious as they meet mine. “I’ll worry until you’re not on the tour anymore.”
“I don’t know how much longer that’s going to be.”
“Are you done with the story about the band?”
“No, not yet, but Rich is impatient.”
“I thought the whole point was to spend time with us as you dig into our life on the road while you kind of do the same, with your first assignment?”
“Yeah, but Rich is… difficult. Nothing makes him happy.”
That’s one way to describe him. I just can’t tell him the truth about how Rich wants me to include all the dirty details about the band’s reaction to finding out his identity, or how I’m struggling to do that. Not only have I not been privy to their closed-door conversations, I also don’t want to write the kind of story Rich is expecting.
“What are you thinking about that has you frowning like that?” Angus asks me.
“My boss is a pain in the ass,” I admit. “That’s all. I’m under pressure, and I don’t think he believes how sick I am.”
“I can send him the bill from the emergency room,” Angus says dryly. “I have absolutely no interest in getting the money back from you, but if he’d like to pay it, I’ll happily accept.”
I snort. “Yeah, good luck with that. Although I think if you can forward me the bill, I’d like to send it along so he can see that I wasn’t lying about how sick I’ve been this week.”
“I’ll take care of it as soon as we get back to the hotel. And please, don’t worry about the cost. I just want to help, not make you feel bad.”
He pauses as the waiter arrives and puts down a glass of wine for him and something fizzy and pink—in a champagne flute—for me.
“Non-alcoholic, for the lady,” the waiter says.
“Thank you.” I take a sip and smile. Whatever it is, it’s light and fruity but not sweet, with enough bubbles to be reminiscent of champagne. “Oh, this is wonderful.”
“I’m glad you like it. The antibiotic thing is a pain in the ass, but it’s important you get better.”
“I can’t remember the last time I was sick.”
“Is that why you felt okay letting your health insurance lapse?”
I meet his eyes. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“I understand complicated. It’s one of a million reasons I changed my name and refuse to have anything to do with the family business.”