Danny flicks his ash on the concrete floor of the balcony. “How is that going to help anything?”
“Because if the fans want you to get together, the drawings are proof that you’re touching her. They’ll love it, even though you’re not doing anything different than you normally do. Plus, everybody’s going to want a chance to see their tattoo idea on her at a concert. It’ll be great publicity, and it’ll all be positive. Plus, it’ll be a lot more fun for them to watch her get a bunch of different temporaries than the one permanent tat they’ve been bugging her about.” I wink. “I promise, it’ll warm their wee little shipper hearts.”
He goes to flick his ash again, but stops to glance warily over at me. “What’s a shipper heart?”
“A shipper is someone who is rooting for a particular couple to...you know what, never mind. The question is, how are you at sketching on cue? If they pick all kinds of weird pictures are you going to be able to Sharpie them onto Jera in time for a show?” He narrows his eyes at me, and I laugh. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“It’s a good idea.” He drops the cigarette into the glass of water on the table and turns his head to blow the smoke away from me. “But you know what would be easier?”
“Hmm?”
“There were what, sixty fans waiting out front when we got to this hotel? If late night beer runs have taught me anything, it’s that they’re probably still there.” His eyes flare, and he holds out his hand. “Walk out of here with me, and by tomorrow morning nobody will be talking about me and Jera anymore.”
My pulse jumps. “Danny, you don’t want people just switching to rumors about us.”
He drops his hand, but he doesn’t move away. “Why not? At least they’ll be true. And I don’t mind if people know we’re together.”
A rush of pride mixes oddly with the anxiety twisting my stomach. Together? Does he think... Is that what he wants?
A man like Danny, in my life for real. I picture it for a breath-stealing second before my eyes drop. Even if he weren’t a Dom, I don’t have the kind of life with space for a boyfriend. It’s not like I work at the Macy’s across town. It would be like dating my iPhone, and the device would probably wear out once his protective instincts revved and the constant check-ins started.
“I told you,” I say as gently as I can, gesturing between the two of us. “This is only until the end of the tour.” My ribs feel heavy as I repeat my boundary. I want more time with him, but if he’s ready to announce our relationship to every reporter and blogger from here to Sweden, he’s looking for something more serious than I can give him.
Hurt flashes in Danny’s eyes before they harden. “And I told you, that’s your call. All you have to do is say the word and I’m out of your life. Now, at the end of the tour, whenever. But you should know that until then, I’m not just fucking you, Kate.” He takes a step forward and drops his hands to the armrests of my chair, caging me into the wild heat of his body, the ferocity in his voice. “If that’s what you thought this was, you haven’t been paying enough attention.”
Chapter 15: It’s a Sign
The conveyor belt burps suitcases out onto the carousel in front of us. Portland came up all too quickly, and I can’t believe we’re really already here.
I shift my weight, half-heartedly noting which crew members have already gotten their bags. We said our goodbyes to Reggie and the tour bus in New Mexico before flying here to Oregon for tomorrow’s homecoming show: the date that originally marked the end of the tour. Under my new schedule, we have a week off here before ten days in Europe. Then it’s home for the band and on to new jobs for me and the rest of the staff.
I flick back my hair, checking my phone again even though I can’t seem to focus on any of the waiting emails. Maybe I’ve got low blood sugar. I should grab a snack before the van driver starts making the rounds of drop-offs at houses and hotels.
I sneak a peek behind me. Danny sits on a bench with elbows leaned forward onto his knees, one of his legs jiggling as he stares at the battered duffel and guitar case at his feet. Maybe he’s nervous about playing such a big show in his hometown. There’s more pressure now that they’re riding the tidal wave of success from the rest of the tour.
I drag my eyes back to the baggage claim belt. Beside me, Jera rubs at the graying Sharpie lines on her arm. “Your contest idea is saving my life, but man...” She makes a face. “I feel like a half-erased sketchpad all the time.”
“Yeah, but it’s worth soaking in some ink to shut up the vultures on Twitter, hmm?” I nudge her with my elbow. My contest is only increasing the numbers of Dera shippers, but the press is all positive lately.
“For real.” Jera drops her hand, pushing up on her toes to scout the room. “I kind of thought Jacob would meet us in baggage claim.”
“He probably just picked up somebody hot by the rental cars and called it good,” I deadpan. She’s been practically vibrating the last few days, she’s so adorably excited to see her boyfriend and get started on the adoption paperwork for Maya.
Jera smacks me in the arm. “Bitch.”
I snicker as she bounces forward and hauls her bag off the belt, the guy next to her reaching forward in alarm when he sees the size of it. Her lean drummer’s muscles handle the weight easily, and she doesn’t even notice his aborted attempt to help as she totes her suitcase back to my side. Thank God for no lost luggage on this round.
“That’s it,” I call to the rest of our entourage. “The vans are downstairs!”
“This way.” Danny snaps to his feet, elbowing his way to the lead of our group. I lift a brow, trying to ignore my irrational twinge of hurt. Well, somebody’s suddenly excited to get home.
Since the argument about making our arrangement public, he hasn’t pushed the issue, and he didn’t stop coming to my hotel room on our nights off. If anything, the sex got almost breathtakingly intense. But maybe it was just the urgency of knowing the tour is ending, barely more than two weeks from today.
“What are you doing for break?” Jera asks as we wheel our suitcases down the wide hallway. Her eyes flick between me and Danny’s back. She’s done an amazing job of keeping our secret so far and I’m hoping it won’t come out while everybody’s at home and relaxed over the vacation.
“Would you believe I don’t know? I was too busy trying to sort out the crew. Pauses in the middle of tours are a real pain, but I needed the extra lead time to get the additional European dates organized.” I sigh. “And because we couldn’t pay hotels and per diem for the whole week, some of the crew dropped off. But most of our best people are sticking around, so that’s good.”
“Clancy?”
“Of course.” I smile, but it fades as my eyes drop. “I was going to fly home to visit my mom, but she’s actually doing pretty well right now. I don’t want to screw it up by appearing and then taking off on her again.”
“That’s good that your mom’s feeling better, though.” Jera blows a hair out of her face. “Hey, you can stay with Jacob and me if you don’t mind kids. We have a spare room.”
Danny leads the group around a corner, and glances back. We lock eyes for a moment, my chest tightening before he turns around again. I wonder if it would make anyone suspicious if I hugged him before we went our separate ways this week. There’s still the show tomorrow night but...
Honestly, I just want to spend the whole vacation with him, holed up with few responsibilities and no watchful eyes. Except after the argument, he didn’t offer, and I don’t want to ask and risk sending the wrong message. Which is fine. We’re not dating, so I’ve got no right to wish we could spend the break together.
But I could really use one of his quiet, intensely tight hugs before I head out to empty hotel rooms, and a whole lot more time without him than I really want.
“Wow, resounding silence.” Jera steps onto the descending escalator, and turns around to look up at me. “It’s okay, a barely five-year-old isn’t everybody’s idea of a relaxing week off.�
��
“No, no, that’s not it,” I say. Over Jera’s shoulder, something catches my eye, and suddenly all I can do is grin. “Oh. My. God.”
Jera whips around as the escalator carries us below the level of the upper floor, revealing Jacob waiting below with a tiny blond child standing at his feet. He holds up two cardboard signs, flipping first the right then the left, his eyes nowhere but Jera.
Marry.
Me.
The little girl twists around and squeaks with excitement when she sees Jera, thrusting her sign up into the air. It displays an upside-down question mark, and she waves it vigorously, poking Jacob in the stomach at least once, though he doesn’t flinch. I fumble to get my iPhone out while I crane my neck to check Jera’s reaction.
Her eyes shimmer with tears, and both of her hands rise to her face. I grin and quickly swipe open my camera app. I’m really hoping I can nail the moment when she gets off the escalator and flings herself at him. Not for the website or for a magazine, but just because I know she’ll want the picture.
We reach the bottom. I drag her bag along with mine so her path is clear, but instead of going for him, she chokes out a muffled, “I’m sorry,” and runs.
In the other direction.
I almost don’t want to look, but it’s too late because my eyes went automatically to her boyfriend. Jacob’s face falls and he takes a step after her. Then he stops and spins, bending down to pick up his little sister.
“I’ll take her!” I abandon the bags, striding forward and dropping to a crouch in front of the kindergartener, giving her my best kid-friendly smile. “Hey, you. I bet your name is Maya.”
Jacob hesitates when Maya draws back from me, but then his gaze shifts to something behind me. “Go,” I say, and he takes off. Not in a half-assed airport jog either. Lord, but that man can run.
Danny’s hand extends past my shoulder, palm up. Maya’s chin tilts up, and her suspicious face melts into a shy smile as she slaps him a high-five down low, and one up high. Without saying a word, he holds out both hands, and she jumps into them. He lifts her onto his shoulders and stands up.
“Uncle Danny? Where did they go?” I flinch at the question in Maya’s high, clear voice, and my gaze ducks to Danny’s face.
“To kiss.”
Jax chokes on a laugh at Danny’s simple answer.
“But Aunt Jera was crying. Why was she crying?” Maya persists.
“Sometimes girls cry when they really want a kiss.”
I don’t know if I want to laugh, or start crying myself because I kind of doubt they are kissing just yet.
Danny steadies Maya on his shoulders as he cocks an eyebrow at me. “Where should we wait?”
I find a mostly-deserted gate nearby and ferry all of our bags and people to it. I expect ten minutes or so for talking, hugging and making out purposes, but after twenty, they’re nowhere to be seen. I send the crew and gear ahead in the vans while I wait with the band, wincing when I bite my lip and find it already raw. What the hell is going on? Jera was ready to fly the plane herself just to get home faster for the adoption, and now she runs the other way because he’s proposing? But then, the tour has been hard on her. Maybe she finally cracked.
I curl my toes inside my ballet flats and tug at my purse strap. Jacob will comfort her better than I can, I tell myself for the thirtieth time. There’s nothing I can do that his soft brown eyes can’t do better.
Maya perches on the edge of a chair, her little legs kicking in the air as she teaches Jax some kind of game that includes a lot of patting their hands together and singing rhyming verses. I snap a quick picture, because okay, that’s just magazine cover cute, and then I check on Danny again. He slouches on the other side of me, his leg jiggling up and down as he stares at the ceiling.
I nudge his knee with mine, trying out a playful smile. “So what does the smart money say? Are they coming back together with a ring on her finger, or do I need to call an order ahead for Chunky Monkey and a lot of eye cream for tomorrow’s show?”
“I don’t know.” Danny shoves to a straighter position and glances back over his shoulder, his eyes raking the busy terminal and dismissing everyone in it as unimportant. He looks back to his hands.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” I scoff. “You and Jera are practically twins. You probably helped Jacob pick out the ring.”
“I told him I’d make sure we came down that escalator.” He scowls. “But I wouldn’t have done it if I thought she’d run.”
“For real.” Jax sends a look over Maya’s head. “There’s not much worse you can do to a guy than that.”
I shake my head. “We’re just lucky this isn’t the LA airport. The paparazzi pretty well live in that place, and the pictures would be all over the internet already.” Plus, we don’t have a show today, so any eager fans won’t think to look for us at baggage claim until tomorrow morning.
Danny bolts to his feet, and only then do I spot Jera coming around our row of seats, shoving the heel of her hand across her swollen eyes.
She’s alone.
Jera drops to her knees, scooping Maya into a tight hug. Fresh tears well up as she says in a voice so tight it squeaks a little, “Hey, sweetie. I missed you so much! Wanna ride home with just us girls?”
I let out a breath that deflates my whole chest, and sympathetic tears prickle at the backs of my eyes. Nope, not happening. Damage control is the name of the game right now. I straighten my back and take a breath, but Danny speaks before I can.
“I’ve got to find Jacob,” he says in an undertone. “Stay with her?”
I blink in surprise, but manage a nod. He’s really trusting me to take care of his best friend at a moment like this? But then, I guess I wouldn’t be much help with Jacob.
Danny squats and meets Jera’s eyes over Maya’s back. She forces a smile and a tear drips free. “I’m fine,” she mouths, and then aloud, “Call you later?”
Danny nods and slings his duffel over his shoulder, taking his guitar case with him as his long strides carry him down the terminal. Disappointment weighs down my body as I step closer to Jera, but I ignore it. I’ll see him tomorrow at the show. It’s not like that was supposed to be our goodbye or anything.
“I don’t suppose just us girls could include me?” I suggest.
Jax fidgets at my side, his face creased with worry.
“Yeah.” Jera clears her throat and stands up, still holding Maya. “That would be good, actually, if you don’t mind.”
“I uh, I guess I’ll grab a cab. No problem!” Jax shoves his hands in his pockets, and then takes them out again. “Can I call later? Or maybe just text? Would a text be better? Or you can call, if you need to. Or just want to.” He coughs. “No big deal if you’re busy, I was just saying if you need me, I can, um... Do whatever.”
More tears spill onto Jera’s cheeks and Maya rears back. “Are you sad?” she asks in alarm, patting Jera’s wet face with her palms. “Do you need kisses?” She leans forward and plants a loud smooch on Jera’s cheekbone.
Jera’s smile wobbles, and I’m pretty sure something just ripped loose inside my heart. “That’s much better,” she says. “Thank you, sweetie.”
Yeah, it is so past time to get out of here. “Want to learn how to hail a cab, Maya?”
“Umm...yes?” she ventures, darting her eyes at Jera for permission.
Jera juggles the little girl to one arm and reaches out to squeeze Jax’s shoulder, digging up another tear-streaked smile for him. “I’ll be okay. Stop giving me that look.”
He helps us carry our bags to the curb, waiting while Maya and I pretend to flag down one of the already-waiting taxis because I forgot this was Portland, not NYC. I wave as we take off, leaving Jax standing alone at the curb as he stares after our cab. I’ll have to be sure to call and fill him in later.
The ride to Jacob and Jera’s shared home is laden with the queasiness of unspoken thoughts. Maya’s voice fills in the gaps as she updates us on the
state of her Play Doh sculpture and her baseball lessons and how high she can count now and how Ben said a bad word and Jacob bought special ice cream for when Aunt Jera gets home, but she’s not supposed to tell. Or eat it.
The taxi drops us in front of an unassuming post-war house with freshly-painted trim and a small concrete stoop. “We’re remodeling,” Jera warns as she lets us inside. I stand awkwardly amidst the fresh paint and half-ripped up shag carpet as Jera gives Maya a snack. Once the little girl is outside playing, Jera collapses at the little barn-red table in the kitchen, and stares exhaustedly down at her hands.
“You want to talk about it?” I take a seat across from her. “Or do you want me to find you something to drink that’s stronger than apple juice?”
“I want to rip the memory of his expression out of my head.” She drops her face into her hands. “God, I feel sick.”
“It’s okay to say no if you’re not ready. That doesn’t mean you don’t love him.” I reach across the table and rub her arm. “Trust me, I’ve seen enough marriages blow up to know. It’s way better to wait until you’re ready, rather than jump the gun just because you don’t want to hurt him by asking for more time.”
She shoves her hand back through her hair with a movement that looks so much like Danny that I bite my lip again and flinch when I taste blood on the tattered flesh.
“It’s not that,” she says. “Of course I want to marry him. But it was only last week when he asked what I thought about adopting Maya and having her move in with us full time. And then he asks me to marry him?” Her eyes glitter with tears. “So what if I would have said no? What if I had said part-time was as much parenting as I was ready for?” Her face twists and her shaky voice wrenches my heart in my chest. “Would he have just...left?”
“Oh, sweetie...” My hands clench helplessly on the table.
Playing the Pauses (Sex, Love, and Rock & Roll Book 2) Page 17
