Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Knox
D id I know she was back today? Yes.
Did knowing this information have me on edge all day? Unfortunately, yes.
Was I prepared for the odd wave of emotions that punched me in the chest when I saw her chatting with some of the most important women in my life? Not even close.
Kristen, Marie, and Jennifer aren’t just my bandmates’ spouses, they’re my friends.
My family. I love their kids as if they were my own.
Even if I’ve gotten drunk and bitched about the scheduling and the other guys’ priorities being their families, it’s all blustering bullshit on my part. I’m envious they all have what I don’t.
Ryan Staley is infiltrating my inner circle.
As if her sports bras and workout shorts at the gym or having drinks in the hotel lobby in a sweet summer dress weren’t enough.
Now, she’s at soundcheck in fucking cut-off shorts.
They may not be Daisy Dukes, but they’re short enough to leave her legs on full display.
She’s wearing a dark green zip-up hoodie and classic Adidas clamshells.
Casual and hot as hell.
She’s been gone the last forty-eight hours and still managed to be every-fucking-where.
She came up in nearly every conversation, including interviews with the press.
She was included in travel plans and I swear I saw her copper curls around every corner.
Only to be disappointed, they didn’t belong to the woman now in deep conversation with my friends.
Lately, when I go through the motions of soundcheck, I watch the kids and imagine my own child riding their favorite form of wheeled entertainment around the empty arena floor, wearing ear protection to keep their hearing safe and sound.
Today, my envy takes a backseat, because I’m so damn captivated by the auburn-haired beauty with a smile more blinding than the stage lights could ever be.
Ryan Staley is different. I barely know her, but I know she’s the kind of woman songs are written about.
I’ve spent my adult life surrounded by beautiful women. Beautiful women who have to work incredibly hard to look the way they do. Everything about this woman is real. From her body to her personality.
This is why watching two of the guys who work for Roger approaching the women and the way she beams that smile of hers at them as she shakes their hands, turns me into an angry motherfucker.
Realistically, I’m aware she’s off-limits. This doesn’t stop me from wanting to kill the other guys every time I see them with her. Acting like they’ve known her forever when I can’t even bring myself to have a civil conversation with her.
Soundcheck has always been therapeutic for me.
Gets me out of my head and in the mindset for the show to follow.
I’ve sung our songs millions of times. I don’t have to think about the lyrics.
They’re a part of me and the band is a well-oiled machine, not really needing to rehearse.
In days gone by, I could empty my mind of whatever plagued me, using music as therapy.
As I belt out the words I know so well, I watch Connor ride his scooter up to Ryan. The twelve-year-old and the knockout go through the motions of a complicated personal handshake. He scoots away from her, beaming, and Marie says something that makes Ryan throw her head back in a laugh.
She’s magnificent.
I’m so enthralled with watching her I forget the lyrics to the song I’m singing. So entranced, I don’t even realize I’ve stopped singing until the band stops playing.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Women do not get in the way of my job.
Ever.
Everyone notices my fuck up, including the woman who caused it. Still holding her sides from her fit of laughter, her attention swings to me, her smile now aimed in my direction.
Rarely do I experience public embarrassment, but the heat creeping over my face and the lump I can’t seem to swallow past is a stark reminder of how much I hate the feeling.
Turning back to the guys, removing her from my line of sight, I admit my mistake. “Sorry, guys. My head went somewhere else.”
They each nod, accepting my apology.
“Sean, ready whenever you are,” I say, letting them know I’m good. At least as long as I keep my eyes on our drummer.
He counts us off, but there’s no missing the concern in his eyes. No doubt I can expect more probing conversations from him and the others later.
Growing a pair, I turn my attention back to face my friends and Ryan, but she’s nowhere to be found. Relief surges through my body, and I relax for the first time since walking out on stage.
Fortunately, we get through the rest of soundcheck without incident.
“Nice, gentlemen,” Trevor says, joining us on stage. “Did it feel as good as it sounded? Need any tweaks before the show? Speak now or forever hold your peace.”
We tell him we’re all set and shoot the shit for a few minutes. We’re all walking off the stage and, of course, there she fucking is, waiting with her hands in the back pockets of those damn cut-offs of hers.
“Hi.” She lifts a hand in a wave that should be sheepish, but with the fearlessness of this woman, not even close. “Remember me?”
“Kind of hard to forget you when you seem to be everywhere.”
Nice. Let her know she’s getting to you. Just hand her the ammo, why don’t you?
Not stopping to give her the time of day, even though I promised Trev I’d talk to her, I push past Ryan, ignoring how big her eyes are and her gaping mouth. She’s shocked at my rudeness, even though she should be used to it by now.
“Have I offended you?” she asks for anyone nearby to hear, stopping me in my tracks. My attempt at escape is futile. If I don’t talk to her now, I have a feeling she’ll reappear around the next corner I turn.
“Nope, just not real trusting of journalists. I haven’t always gotten a fair shake in the press.”
“Well, I can’t imagine why. What, with the way you ooze charm and kindness.”
Damn that mouth of hers. The corners of my mouth threaten to break out into a smile, but I tamp it down, spinning around to see the sarcastic expression that goes with her smartass remark.
Her hands are on her hips, eyes narrowed in a glare aimed right at me. She doesn’t give a damn about my status. And I fucking love it.
“You bust everyone’s balls like this, or am I special?” I ask.
“Only balls that need to be busted. As for you being special... I think that may be all in your head.”
Chuckling, I say, “You’re something else, aren’t you?”
“Nah, just not intimidated by rock stars. You’ve met one, you’ve met them all. Although I was hoping you’d be different.”
Well, shit. She’s knocked the wind out of me with that one. I take a second to let the oxygen back into my lungs while she watches me. Waiting.
“Fine,” I relent. “Name a time.”
“2pm tomorrow.”
“My suite. Don’t be late.”