by Cherrie Lynn
Rowan fell silent after that, staring out the darkly tinted windows for the duration of the ride to the festival grounds. He didn’t mean to scare her or make her regret coming, but she needed to understand what she might be dealing with from the fan base. He hadn’t had many serious relationships, and even fewer that he’d allowed to be seen more than he could help. A couple years back, when he’d been seen walking to his tour bus with the daughter of their tour manager—who was a fan and just hanging around to listen to some of the music they’d been working on—someone on the other side of the fence had thrown a full beer can directly at her head. Thank God it had missed her, whooshing past and exploding against the side of the bus while she jumped back in horror.
If some crazy asshole tried to hurt Rowan like that, he wouldn’t need Jase to whoop some ass for him. He would do it himself.
“You talked to Savannah?” he asked her as they bypassed the line of cars waiting to turn into the parking grounds and headed for the backstage area.
“No. I meant to call her this morning. I never got around to it.” The shy smile she gave nearly undid him.
“Does she know you’re here?”
“No.”
“I figured as much.”
“You must not have heard from Mike,” she said with a chuckle.
“Exactly. And if she knew you were here, I would definitely have heard from Mike.”
“I have to tell her, though. Maybe when we get settled in, I’ll call her.”
He waved a hand. “That’s fine. I can handle my brother.”
She peered around him, looking out the window at the sea of people heading in. The gates had just opened; the bands wouldn’t start up until three o’clock. “Wow. I’ve never been to one of these,” she said.
“Get ready for a long day hanging out on the bus.”
“I can’t wait to see it.”
He wished he could see all of this through her fresh eyes, and not his jaded ones. Her small hand rested on her thigh; he reached across and laced his fingers through hers, pulling it to his lips for a kiss. Rowan’s little intake of breath when he did so was music to his ears.
“You’re meeting with Ava in an hour,” Jase reminded him.
And the music immediately died. He’d remembered, but he hadn’t wanted to think about it. Ava Marks, who he’d found in his own fucking bed. They were debuting their new song tonight, as she was coming out for a surprise special guest appearance. If he could have Rowan be scarce while she was around, he would feel better. Not that he thought Ava would cause any trouble. He simply wasn’t sure how that little meeting would go.
Jase went on about the day’s schedule: interviews, autographing, meet and greets. He didn’t hear any of it; that’s what he had Jase for—to remind him five minutes before he had to be somewhere.
Rowan leaned closer to him. “Ava? Ava Marks?” she whispered, her innocent green eyes round.
Even worse if she was a fan. “The very one,” he told her, trying for a smile that didn’t quite make it.
“The new song, right? You told me about it when we went to dinner.”
Oh yeah. He had. But she had no idea what had happened the very next day. Shit. Maybe he ought to prepare her for that in case Ava decided to tell her for him. He damn sure didn’t fucking want to. It wasn’t a conversation you typically anticipated having with someone you were trying to break the sexual ice with: Hey, uh, after our first date? This other chick showed up naked in my bed, but it was nothing, okay?
What the fuck had he done?
Chapter Ten
Zane’s tour bus was nicer than most people’s houses.
The outside was solid black, fairly nondescript but sleek and shiny. Rowan ascended the steps into the cool, dim interior, looking around in wonder at the pale leather couches contrasting nicely with the dark wood finishes, and the tiled flooring and recessed lighting. Everything gleamed, modern and polished. It wasn’t what anyone would describe as spacious, but she was sure people had lived in far smaller accommodations than these. Beyond the front area, a narrow hall of berths led to an open bedroom; she could see the large, neatly made bed beyond the door.
The bed where they would be sleeping? A shiver worked its way up her spine when she thought about this morning, little aftershocks skittering through her belly.
Zane’s feet thumped rapidly up the bus steps behind her. “Home sweet home,” he said wryly.
She turned to him, eyebrows raised. “Can I just live here?”
“We’ll see how you feel after a few days of it. It doesn’t bother some of the guys. It makes me crazy.”
Maybe she should start playing this like hanging around on a rock star’s tour bus was just another day for her. But everything she saw filled her eyes with wonder. His MacBook was open on the table, everything already set up for him, and she wanted to drool at the thought of all the music that must be on there. Music from him that she had never heard.
“Jase will bring your bag in,” he said, slipping past her so she could follow him for the grand tour. They went down the hallway, past the banks of sleeping berths, three high on both sides. Each one of them was tiny, all with flip-down flat screens. She would hate to know she had to sleep in something like that, with the ceiling inches from her face. Talk about claustrophobia.
Zane gestured to a little door on the left. “There’s the bathroom. Yeah, it’s tiny, and yeah, it has a shower, but don’t use it. There will be better places at the venues, and we’ll have a hotel room for off days. It’s not a glamorous life, I tell ya.”
“Okay,” she said. “Just curious, will we stop for food, or . . . ?”
“There’s a fridge back up front. It’ll be stocked with snacks and drinks, but yes, we do stop for dinner. Mostly the crew gets it for us. At the shows, there’ll be catering. We can go whenever you want. Tell Jase anything you want or need.”
“Okay,” she said again, feeling overwhelmed. This was incredible. They entered the bedroom area, dark except for a couple of lights up top due to the blackout drapes.
“Are you all right?” he asked, pausing to take in her expression as she looked all around.
“Yeah, it’s so cool.” And she sounded so incredibly lame.
“Well, obviously, this is the only bedroom. It’s all yours.”
“What? But . . .”
He grinned. “That was my intention, to give it to you. To keep from being a presumptive asshole.”
“You could never be that.”
“Don’t be too sure. Anyway, yeah, it’s yours. If you want me in it, I’m there, but if not . . . I’ll bunk up back there.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the sleeping berths. “It won’t be the first time. You should’ve been around when we all had one bus and fought over who got the bedroom that night. We always tried to make a plan, but it never worked out. Someone would always ‘need’ it. So I know what sleeping in those fucking wretched-ass pods is like.”
Rowan had to laugh. “So basically, you’re saying . . . ‘Please, woman, don’t kick me out of the bed.’”
Those hypnotic dark eyes were amused as they wandered over her body, drawing heat all the way from her toes to her cheeks. “I might be saying that, but for an entirely different reason.”
Stepping closer, he reached for her and she went, tilting her head back to look up at him. He didn’t kiss her like she expected, though. Only smoothed her hair back from her face with both hands. “If this gets to be too much,” he said gently, “and you need to step away, don’t worry about hurting my feelings. I get it.”
“I think I’ll be fine, Zane,” she told him, meaning it. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to slide her arms around his waist. At least she wasn’t so enormous yet that she couldn’t. That would suck.
“And be careful, okay? I mean when we’re on the road and moving. You could lose your balance pretty easily. If you fell and got hurt, I would never forgive myself.”
“I’ll be careful,” she
promised, touched by his concern. “Thanks for warning me, because I’m getting front-heavy.” She glanced down at the king-sized bed next to them. “I doubt I’ll be doing much walking around; I’m probably going to live right there.”
“Sounds good to me.” He leaned closer to press a kiss to her forehead. Something about the way he liked to do that . . . it made her feel so treasured. Then he kissed the very tip of her nose, making her giggle. The sound died away in her throat when he quested lower still, gently capturing her lips, the taste of him making this morning’s memories flood in with even more vivid detail. His fingers gliding inside her, driving her wild . . .
“Yo, Z!” a voice bellowed from up front, jarring their mouths apart.
“Yeah?” Zane called back, giving her an apologetic look while she tried to get her pulse under control.
Oh my God, she thought. Was that Deke? Deke Anders, who absolutely kicked ass on the guitar? She had no idea how to play one herself, but the guy was a musical genius, incorporating the spooky, distinctive sounds that, next to Zane’s indescribable vocals and heart-rending lyrics, set August on Fire apart from 99 percent of the cookie-cutter dreck on the radio.
“We have a live radio interview in ten.”
“Fuck,” he swore softly to Rowan. “And I have Ava in about half an hour. Let me go take care of this really quick, okay? Are you good here or do you want to come with me?”
She would rather go with him, of course, but she didn’t want to come off as a pest that needed to be by his side every minute. “I’m good here. Maybe I’ll call Savannah.”
“Good deal.” He gestured behind him. “There’s the TV. Maybe you can find something to watch so you don’t get bored out of your skull. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Zane gave her a peck on the cheek, then he was taking long strides up the length of the bus. If she watched his ass as he went, who could blame her? Then he disappeared around the corner, heading down the steps, and she flopped back on the bed.
In the back of Zane Larson’s tour bus.
Yeah, she screamed a little bit.
* * *
Talking to Savannah wasn’t something she looked forward to, but it was probably better to get the unpleasantness out of the way so she could enjoy the rest of the night. Savannah didn’t answer at first, but she was probably with a client, so Rowan left a clipped “Call me back” on her voice mail. Then she played around on social media until Savannah’s ring came through.
“Hey,” she greeted, not giving her a chance to say anything. “I want you to know that I’m not home. In case you try to go by or anything.” She didn’t even mention Regina. She doubted Tommy’s mother had been beating her door down since their fight.
“Where are you?” Savannah asked, sounding alarmed.
Did she really have to tell her? She’d never considered that. Maybe it would be enough for them to know she was away, but she was safe. “I needed some time away. You know, do something for me before the baby comes. I just wanted to let you know so you wouldn’t worry.”
“Where are you?” Savannah repeated, sounding doubly alarmed. Damn.
“Away.”
“Rowan!”
“Savannah.”
“Tell me where you are right now.”
“Please let me have this, okay? I need it. I don’t need you or anyone else running after me. I’m good. I’m having fun and I’m happy for a change. Let that be enough.”
“You’re with Zane, aren’t you?” she demanded.
Well, that was quick. “I’d rather not confirm nor deny that.”
“Rowan, listen to me. You are angry, hormonal, grief-stricken, and you are not thinking clearly.”
“Honestly, my head’s clearer than it’s been for a long time.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Believe what you want. In less than four months I will be genetically bound to your family forever through my daughter. Maybe then you can make demands of me. Now, however, you cannot.”
“You have a responsibility to the baby . . .”
“And I’m taking it seriously. I’m not hitting a crack pipe, Savannah. Everything is fine.”
“If you’re with Zane, though, you’re away from us, you’re away from your doctor . . . what if something goes wrong? I don’t like this. I’m calling Mike.”
“Please leave Mike out of it.”
“Please come home. That’s no place for you!” She was beginning to get upset, and Rowan could hear tears in her voice. She hadn’t quite expected a reaction of this intensity. Anger, bewilderment, maybe. Savannah sounded . . . so hurt.
“I haven’t forgotten him,” she said softly, feeling tears well in her own eyes, because for the past twenty-four hours, yes, Tommy had been further from her thoughts than he had been in five months. “Even you encouraged me to—”
“I didn’t encourage this.”
“Maybe not this, but this is what I want right now. He invited me. I wanted to come.” There really was no use in denying where she was anymore.
“What city are you in? You might as well tell me. All it takes is a Google search to find out where he’s playing.”
“Atlanta, okay? And I don’t even know how long I’m hanging around. They have a string of dates up the East Coast. I can come home anytime. Just let me decide when. Not you or Regina or anyone else. As if she would care.”
“She cares, Ro. She feels awful.”
“She sure has been blowing up my phone with apologies,” Rowan snapped, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“You know how Mom is. It’s hard for her to be the one to swallow her pride.”
“Oh, poor thing. As she completely destroys mine. I didn’t realize she saw me as nothing but a motherless gold-digging tramp. She could have let me know that from the start.”
“She doesn’t think that.”
“She damn sure said it. I realize you missed it, because you left before the real fireworks, but ask your dad; he was there for it all. He’s the only one who has always taken my side.” She let the last statement drip with meaning.
Savannah was replying when a female voice singsonged “Zane!” from the front of the bus. Sitting up in the bed, panic zinging through her, Rowan cut off whatever Savannah was saying.
“I’m sorry, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Helloooo!” the voice rang out as she pressed the disconnect button on Savannah’s protests.
“Hello?” Rowan called back tentatively, getting to her feet with effort. The round firmness of her stomach was making it difficult to bend properly, so she mostly had to propel herself upward belly-first. By the time she exited the bedroom, the unexpected guest was thumping up the bus steps.
White-blond hair caught up in a sloppy topknot and huge dark sunglasses shielding her eyes, Ava freaking Marks rounded the corner and stopped short when she saw Rowan coming up the hallway.
Tall, willowy, wearing tattered jeans and an even more tattered sleeveless skull T-shirt that flaunted her toned, tattooed arms, Ava slid the sunglasses on top of her head, revealing her strange pale eyes, looked Rowan up and down, and emitted a sort of half laugh, half scoff that made her want to turn around and go right back into her newfound sanctuary.
“Hey,” Ava said casually, glancing around. “I was looking for Zane.”
“He’s doing some press,” Rowan said. “Um, it’s nice to meet you. I’m a big fan.”
“Oh, thank you. That’s so sweet.” She studied Rowan a little more closely. Though the words were kind, the tone, really, was not. Rowan’s urge to flee intensified.
“I can, um, tell him you came by. I know you were supposed to meet.”
“Who are you?” Ava asked at last, when all her internal questioning seemed to fail to provide an adequate answer. She didn’t lift her weird ethereal eyes from Rowan’s round belly. Rowan let a hand flutter to it protectively.
“My name’s Rowan, I’m Zane’s friend,” she said, striving for nonchalance.
“Hi
s friend?” Ava asked suspiciously.
“Yes?” Rowan replied in the same tone.
“Wait a minute. Are you New Orleans?”
“Am I . . . ?” Her brows drew together at the odd phrasing, but she nodded. “I’m from there, yeah.”
Ava only stared at her. “Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.” And she began to laugh. Then, much to Rowan’s displeasure, she gracefully seated herself on the couch and crossed one ankle over her knee. “It’s all right if I wait for him, right? We have some stuff to go over.”
It was his bus. So even if Rowan wanted to tell her to go sit her ass in the hundred-plus-degree temps outside, she supposed she couldn’t.
But as she was turning to go back to the bedroom to let Ava wait in solitude, which was what her dismissive attitude implied she wanted, the woman spoke up again. “I guess I didn’t realize how serious it was.”
Rowan turned back. “Pardon?”
“Aren’t you proper. Come on.” Her hand gestured toward Rowan’s stomach. “He said he had a date, but even he couldn’t work that fast.” She laughed, obviously delighted at her own joke. “This has been going on a while, hasn’t it?’
“Um, no . . . nothing has been going on. I’m a widow and this is my husband’s baby.” Not that it’s any of your business. “Zane and I are good friends.”
She didn’t like the predatory grin that spread across Ava’s face. She didn’t like the relief in her eyes. “Good friends, huh. Okay.”
Rowan decided in that moment to never listen to another Decider song for the rest of her life. Their frontwoman was a bit of a bitch. Most people at least offered some condolences when they discovered the sad situation. This one couldn’t care less.
She hoped this was the one and only day she would have to deal with Ava. It was definitely something to ask him about, because she didn’t think she would be up for this kind of belittlement. And that’s how she felt in Ava’s presence. Belittled. Zane had never, not once, made her feel this way, not from the first night she’d met him.
