Taming the Storm

by Samantha Towle

  His mouth is close to my hair, his breath blowing through the strands.

  “Forgiveness is the hardest thing in the world to give. It can take some people a long time to get there. And some never get there at all.”

  My heart ratchets up a beat. I lift my head from his chest, looking up at him.

  “Just don’t beat yourself up on the trek to it.” He’s smiling at me softly. He tips my chin up with his fingers. “You know, the more I learn about you, Firecracker, the more you make sense to me.”

  I don’t even ask what he means by that. I’m not ready to dig any deeper into this moment than what’s already happening.

  “So, aside from the music torture, you’re doing okay?” His beautiful eyes are boring into mine.

  Tenderness rises in me. I stare right back into his sincere eyes and then at his mouth. The mouth I’m so desperate to reach up and kiss.

  I move my eyes past him. “I’m doing okay.”

  His fingers move from my chin to tuck my hair behind my ear. “Well, if you find you ever get stuck…you know, getting there, I’m here.”

  Looking back to him, I smile. “How do you manage to make everything sound dirty?”

  He laughs lightly. “I don’t, Firecracker. Like we established before, you just have a dirty mind.”

  Shaking my head, I chuckle as I press my palm flush against his chest. I can feel his heart pounding beneath my hand.

  “Thank you,” I say with sincerity.

  “Nothing to thank me for.” He releases me, stepping away. “I’m gonna hit the sack now—alone.” He emphasizes the last word. “So, don’t try to follow me to bed.”

  “Good night, Tom.” I force a smile, feeling bereft without his touch, and squashing the feeling of disappointment that he’s going to bed.

  I turn back to making my hot chocolate.

  “Ly?” Tom says.

  “Yeah.” I look at him over my shoulder.

  “Not all men are cheating idiots. Rally, Dex, Chad—all muts.”

  “Muts,” I agree with nod.

  “Your guy is out there. One who won’t be a mut. There’s a guy who deserves an awesome girl like you.”

  My heart starts thumpity-thumping again.

  And I can’t help but hear that ridiculous, over-romanticized voice in the back of my mind that’s telling me if I ever saw stupid and trusted a guy in that way again…then I would want it to be Tom.

  A Few Days Later—Sketchy-Looking Bar at a Truck Stop, Somewhere Between Kansas and Missouri

  We’re seven days into the tour. We’ve already done six shows.

  I’d say I’m exhausted, and I am, but I’m loving every minute of it!

  We’re currently somewhere between Kansas and Missouri in a bar called—

  Actually, I have no clue what the name of the bar is.

  Before heading to Jefferson City to play a show tomorrow night, we have a rare night off.

  And we’re at a truck stop.

  When on the road, glamour doesn’t come into it.

  I did just want to chill and have a quiet night on the bus, but the guys talked me into coming out for dinner with everyone.

  So, here I am, finishing off my fries after eating half of a very questionable burger.

  The food might be a bit sketchy here, but the beer on tap rocks! I’m two pints in and ready for another. I’m ready for that other beer because I’ve had to endure watching Ashlee paw over Tom during the entire dinner. Granted, he’s kept his hands to himself, but it hasn’t stopped him from flirting right back with her.

  And he’s barely spoken to me—let alone, looked at me.

  Hard to take when I’ve had his attention all week.

  Yes, I know exactly how I sound, which is why I’m seriously considering banging my head against this table any second now.

  “You all right, honey?” Shannon pulls up a chair beside me at the end of the table.

  “I’m great.” I give her a megawatt smile to emphasize the fact that I really am.

  Even though I’m kind of not.

  I’m feeling all these confusing things about Tom. The more time I spend with him, the more I like him.

  But I don’t want to like him. I can’t like him.

  And it really pisses me off when I have to see other women all over him.

  I know it’s irrational, and it’s my shit to deal with, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less, especially when it’s happening right in front of me.

  I’ve really gotten to like Shannon after spending more time with her. Ashlee, not so much. If she’s not hitting on my boys or Tom, she’s busy looking in the mirror.

  Shannon smiles at me and pats my hand. “Honey, when a girl tells me she’s all right and I get to see all her teeth in that smile, then I know she’s far from all right.” She looks down the table at Tom and then back to me.

  “It’s Tom, right?” she asks, lowering her voice.

  Realizing that I’m worrying my lower lip with my teeth, I immediately stop it, freeing my lip. “I’m fine. Maybe just a bit tired, but that’s it.”

  She smiles and shakes her head. “He’s not interested in Ashlee. If he wanted her, he would have done her by now, probably in the restroom. I know Tom. Spent a long time on the road with him and the boys way back when. If Tom wants something, he just takes it. No foreplay—in the figurative sense.” She takes a drink of her beer, reminding me that I’m in dire need of another.

  “I know you said nothing is going on between you and Tom. Tom also heavily highlighted that fact to me. Sure, there might not be anything physical going on between the two of you, but currently, the level of sexual tension between you and Tom is enough to light the whole city of LA for a year.”

  I stare at her. “Don’t be crazy.” I sweep her statement away with my hand.

  “Deny it all you want, but I see what I see. And what I see is some serious eye-fucking going on between you two. Either Tom is a changed man—he has seemed different lately—or you’re holding off on him, which I can’t figure out. Any red-blooded woman would be dragging that man back to her bed and not letting him out for days. And I speak from experience there.”

  I can’t help it. I wince at the reminder of the fact that Shannon and Tom have history—of the sexual kind.

  “See!” She points a red talon at my face. “There it is. It bothers the crap out of you whenever I mention me screwing Tom years ago. Girl, you have the serious hots for him. And he clearly has them for you. So, do something about it before someone else turns his head, and you’re left wishing you had.” She picks her beer up as she stands and sashays back over to her table.

  If only it were that easy…

  I pick up my glass to have a drink, and then I remember it’s empty. Fuck. I decide to hit the restroom first before getting another drink.

  On my way back to the bar, a few women pass me, and I hear them gushing excitedly about Tom Carter being in the bar. I guess he’s been spotted.

  I feel a sudden sense of privilege in this moment. I sleep under the same moving roof as Tom. I’ve seen the dude freshly showered and wearing only a towel. I get to talk with him all the time. He’s become a real friend to me over this past week.

  I guess these women would think I’m lucky.

  Maybe I am, and I just don’t appreciate it.

  Or maybe this is just the beer talking.

  Smiling to myself, I step back into the bar area, and that’s when I see Tom standing at the bar. And there’s a pretty bottle-blonde woman with hair down to her tiny waist, legs like bar stools, and big boobs that look real. And Tom is looking at them with full appreciation.

  She’s his ideal.

  I feel a war of emotions all at once. Witless—and yes, jealous—I decide against going to the bar, and I grit my teeth as I head back to our table.

  Why the hell am I bothered that Tom’s talking to the blonde?

  For the same reason I was bothered by him flirting with Ashlee.

  I glance at A
shlee, and she looks seriously pissed at losing Tom to some random bar chick.

  She’s jealous just like I am.

  God, it would be funny if it wasn’t so depressing.

  “I got you another drink,” Cale says, handing me a fresh beer.

  “Thanks.” I smile at him gratefully as I sit down.

  “Ly,” Sonny catches my attention. “We were just saying, it looks like Tom will be getting some tonight. I thought he’d be doing Ashlee, but I’m thinking it’s gonna be this chick at the bar. About time, if you ask me. He’s been low-key since we got on the road. It’s time Tom got in the game. Looks like you’re giving up the bedroom tonight.” Sonny nudges my arm, grinning.

  I’m instantly irritated. Mix that with jealously and you’ve one very sour Lyla.

  Over my dead body. Tom is not screwing her in my bed tonight—or ever.

  Giving a noncommittal shrug, I turn away and gulp down a mouthful of beer.

  “Another five minutes,” Van says, “and Tom will be out of here and banging her. Lucky bastard. She’s hot as hell.”

  “Five minutes?” Sonny laughs. “More like two.”

  I’m blaming the beer for the next words out of my mouth. “I bet you fifty dollars that Tom doesn’t have sex with that blonde tonight.”

  What am I doing? Stop, Lyla. Stop now.

  But I can’t stop because I’ve said it, and now, Sonny is glaring at me with his gambling face on.

  If there’s one thing that Sonny can’t resist, aside from women, it is a bet.

  “One hundred dollars,” Sonny drawls. “Because I’m that fucking sure he will.”

  “Done.” I stick my hand out.

  Sonny shakes it. “You’re gonna be changing your bedsheets in the morning,” he incites. “And I’m gonna be a hundred bucks up.”

  He’s goading me.

  Did I mention I have a competitive streak?

  Ignoring him, I twist in my seat, praying to God that Tom has not left the bar with the blonde already. I look for him while I figure out how I’m going to win this bet.

  He’s still here, and he’s not kissing her. Good sign.

  But she’s all over him, and he’s not pushing her off.

  Tom glances across the bar at me. I quickly look away.

  I wait a few seconds and then look back.

  The blonde is whispering in his ear. He laughs. Then, his hand comes to rest intimately on her hip.

  I start to feel a bit sick.

  He can’t have sex with her because…because…

  I can’t lose this bet. If I lose, I’ll never hear the end of it from Sonny.

  Chaka Khan’s “Ain’t Nobody” starts to play in the bar. The blonde seems to get overly excited by the song.

  She slips her leg in between Tom’s, straddling his thigh. She starts to gyrate against his leg—well, gyrate is putting it cleanly. She’s dry-fucking his leg.

  Shit.

  He’ll have her bent over the bar, and be doing her in seconds at this rate.

  My eyes squeeze painfully shut on the thought. My fingers curl into my palms, nails biting into my skin.

  And that’s the reason for what I do next. I’m blaming Chaka Khan for initiating dry-leg-fucking, and I’m sticking with it.

  Nothing to do with the fact that I’m sick with jealousy.

  Nope, nothing to do with it at all.

  I stand, picking up my beer, and head straight for Tom and his blonde groupie. I’m so beyond ready to put an end to their little show that it’s not even funny.

  Tom’s eyes flicker up at my approach. There’s a note of wariness in his look. Then, he smiles—no, he grins, which pisses me off to no end.

  Bastard.

  My blood starts to boil.

  “I just can’t fucking believe this!” I cry at Tom.

  The blonde jerks away from him at the sound of my wailing.

  “I can’t believe that you’re doing this to me—again!” I thrust my hand out at him.

  Shock slackens his features.

  “You promised you loved me!” I say in a whiny voice, making strangled noises like I’m about to start bawling. I even wipe my nose on my sleeve for effect.

  “You promised this wouldn’t happen again! After the last time, when I caught crabs from you, I had to go to the doctor and have all that smelly medicine spread all over my vagina! I trusted you when you said it wouldn’t happen again! But here we are—again—with another groupie!”

  I throw my arms up just for good measure. A bit of beer sloshes from the glass onto my wrist.

  “You’re a lying, cheating son of a bitch, Tom Carter! We’re so fucking over that it’s not even funny! One hundred percent over!”

  Tom opens his mouth to speak, but I don’t give him a chance.

  I chuck my beer in his face.

  The blonde jumps back, avoiding the splash.

  It’s then I realize the whole bar is silent. Chaka Khan has stopped singing, and all eyes are on me.

  Shit. Fuckity fuck.

  I think I might have gotten a little carried away.

  Tom drags a hand down his face, clearing the beer away.

  Reaching over, I place my now empty glass on the nearest table. “Okay…well, I think it’s time for me to go.”

  I give an uneasy smile to the bartender who is staring at me from behind the bar.

  Avoiding Tom’s eyes, I turn on my heel and quickly make my way back to the guys. Eyes down, I don’t look up until I reach our table.

  The guys are looking at me like I’ve grown three heads, but I catch the knowing smirk on Shannon’s face.

  “Um…what the hell was that?” Sonny practically growls at me.

  “That was me winning our bet.” I give him a smug smile as I lift my hand to my mouth. I lick the sticky beer droplets from my wrist. “Cough up. I believe you owe me one hundred dollars.”

  “Holy shit!” Van laughs. “She totally stung you, man.”

  Grinning at me with admiration, Van lifts his hand to me, so of course, I have to high-five him.

  Sonny gives us both a dirty look, and then he reaches into his pocket. After pulling out my winnings, he dumps two fifties onto my outstretched hand.

  “Nice doing business with you. I’ll see you boys back on the bus.”

  Then, I’m out of there lickety-split, ignoring the look Cale is giving me. The one that’s saying, We’ll be having words later.

  When I hit the nighttime air, I stop, my heart pounding like a bitch in my chest.

  Oh my God! I can’t believe I just did that!

  A strangled laugh escapes me.

  I start walking again, but the farther from the bar I get, the realization of what I just did in starts to sink in.

  I just made a public scene and threw beer in Tom’s face.

  People will now think he and I are together.

  And Tom is famous. Really famous. Stunts like the one I just pulled are newsworthy.

  No, it’ll be fine. I can’t imagine anyone in there being the type to call up the tabloids.

  I’m halfway across the parking lot, heading for the bus, when Tom’s voice rumbles out like thunder from behind me.

  “What the fuck was that?”

  I turn slowly. The fierce look on his face makes me almost buckle under the pressure.

  I steel my confidence, keeping my expression neutral. I place my hands on my hips. “You’re welcome,” I say, giving some attitude.

  His eyes narrow. “I’m welcome?” He takes a few steps toward me, his long legs eating up the space between us.

  I fight the urge to back up.

  “Welcome for what exactly? You screaming at me like a banshee in a public bar or for the beer you threw in my face?” He slashes a hand down his beer-soaked T-shirt, which is clinging to his hard chest and thick biceps and—

  Focus, Lyla.

  “Um…for saving you,” I say calmly. I feel anything but calm. My insides are rattled, and my thoughts are swirling like a storm.


  “Saving me? From what?”

  I give him a duh look. “From the blonde who wouldn’t leave you alone.”

  His face goes from angry to confused and straight back to angry.

  “You’re telling me that all that in there was because you thought I needed saving from the hot blonde who was minutes away from sucking my dick?” He takes another seething step closer. “Have you forgotten who I am? I’m not the fucking pope, Lyla! I’m Tom Carter, and it’s well known that I really like hot blondes, especially ones who are more than willing to get down on their knees and suck my cock!” Another step. “And just because you haven’t seen that from me this past week doesn’t make it any less true.”

  His words pierce my chest like a knife. I shrink back.

  “Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you wanted her.” Jesus, those words hurt. “I thought I was helping. I just…well, it seemed like you didn’t want women all over you, considering what happened with Shannon on the first day, and I bet Sonny—”

  Shit.

  Those jades of his narrow to slits. “You bet Sonny what?”

  I swallow down. “Nothing. I bet nothing.”

  I turn to leave, more than ready to chickenshit my way out of this and hightail it back to the bus, but Tom catches my upper arm, pulling me back to him.

  “Finish the rest of that sentence.”

  “Fine.” I blow out a breath, removing my arm from his hand.

  I push my hair back off my face and lift my chin. “Sonny was giving me a hard time, saying that you were going to sleep with that blonde and I’d have to give up my bed so that you could use it to do…whatever with her.” I wave my hand, trying not to choke on the words.

  “So, I bet Sonny that you wouldn’t have sex with her because I actually thought you, um…wouldn’t.”

  He lifts a brow, which does nothing for my confidence.

  “Well, it was just…from things you’ve said to me and the whole Shannon thing and, um…just the way you’ve been in general…so, yeah.” I straighten my back and look him in the eye. “And because of those things, I thought my money was safe…but then you started looking like you were actually going to do something with her and, um”—the words are sticking in my throat—“I, um…didn’t want to lose the bet.” I look away.

  Liar.