by Cari Quinn
He cupped her breast under her shirt. “Does this count as cuddling?”
“Mmm-hmm, and your mouth on them is mouth cuddling.” She shook her head, laughing softly. “We can be good for one night. We go back tomorrow.”
“You’re right. We can.”
“But I’m glad you were here. This week would’ve been even lonelier without you.”
“You get lonely, Miss Titanium Heart?” He meant it to be teasing but her brows snapped down and she glanced away.
He gripped her chin and turned her toward him again. “Hey, I was kidding. You know that, right?”
“Yes. I also know that’s the impression I give off. Hell, it’s the side I’ve tried to show people. But I—” She broke off.
“What?”
“I guess I want you to see me differently. I want Tristan to see me differently. And not just naked.”
Randy propped his head on his fist. Deliberately, he lifted his other hand from her breast to toy with her hair. He couldn’t stop touching her, but he didn’t want her to think it was all about sex between them. It wasn’t. Not even close.
“You know what I see?”
She pursed her lips. “A little afraid to find out. Shoot.”
“I see a smart, super talented, gorgeous woman who is way more sensitive than she lets on. Who has a past and secrets and so many sides to her that she’s like a Rubik’s curve, because she has too many soft lines to be a cube.”
“Corny.” Her lips twitched as he held up his hands in a gesture of defeat. “But cute.”
“I try.”
“Thank you.” Her voice turned quiet, even quieter than it had been, since they were basically whispering. After he’d carried her offstage in front of her band, they’d been more open—holding hands, teasing each other, and yes, occasionally kissing—but they weren’t necessarily advertising they were involved. “Thank you for looking deeper, even though I try to make it impossible.”
“I have a lot of practice. I live with a guy like that.”
“Yeah, you do. Tris is more like me.” Her throat worked as she swallowed. “Maybe we’re being stupid and he won’t care about us getting naked.”
“You think he’s already moving on?”
She jerked a shoulder. “I don’t know. Is he? You know him better than me.”
“I’ve never seen him do repeats, so we’re in new territory.”
“Never?”
“Let’s just say it’s pretty damn rare. But who can blame the guy?” Randy pressed a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll call him after the show tonight.”
“We’ve called him a million times. The calls always go to voicemail or he says he’s busy. Maybe we’re crowding him.”
“He is busy. Have you been to his restaurant? It’s a zoo on a good day. Trust me, if he was over…this,” Randy circled a finger between them, “he wouldn’t beat around the bush. He’d tell us it was fun and see ya.”
“But he lives with you.”
“So? He’s a straight shooter. You don’t have to worry that he’ll string us along. Once he’s done with us, that’ll be that.”
“Us,” she repeated.
She didn’t have to say the rest. Without Tris, is there an us?
“We’ll talk to him tonight. Just hearing his voice will help.”
Randy didn’t question what he’d said. If it sounded weird that he was talking that way about another guy, he was going with it. This situation wasn’t normal in any shape or fashion.
She nodded. “Okay. Yes. We’ll talk. Then we’ll know what the parameters are.”
“Exactly, and if—”
The bus door smacked open and heels sounded on the stairs. “Look lively, people.” A feminine voice called out. “Anyone who’s not dressed, find a sheet or something.”
Lila.
Juliet’s eyes widened and she shoved Randy toward the back of the bunk. While she hadn’t said exactly what had transpired between her and Lila after her fall onstage the other day, he was fairly certain it hadn’t been good.
Juliet had been adamant about keeping things secret between the three of them for a reason. Though she’d lightened up a bit recently, the fact remained that two was different from three.
Maybe she didn’t want to deal with questions about something that wasn’t going anywhere. But how could they be sure what might happen? Nothing seemed certain anymore.
Not that he’d get to ask her about her thought process right now, since she’d grabbed the body pillow she stashed on a shelf just above his head and pushed it at him. Somehow she managed to simultaneously pull the blanket over him and the pillow and roll out of the bunk just as Lila peeked her head into the sleeping quarters.
“Anyone alive in here?”
“Me! I am.” If Juliet had sounded any perkier, Randy’s eyebrows would’ve hit his hairline.
He’d been awake long enough before Juliet to know that half the bunks were still occupied. Elle and Ryan, the early risers, were already out and gone who knows where. When Randy had headed to the bathroom, Molly had been doing stretching exercises in the main part of the bus while she watched a show on TV.
West was unconscious, as was Mal. Neither of them had come back to the bus alone, but their date du jours had already taken off.
Michael hadn’t yet put down his phone, and half his side of the conversation appeared to be baby talk. He was clearly the only family man of the bunch.
“Glad to hear you’re awake, Juliet, since we need to talk.”
“Oh, do we?” From where Randy was stashed behind a body pillow and under a blanket, he watched Juliet brush by Lila. “Do I smell coffee?”
Someone groaned. “Shut the hell up. Fuckin’ sleepin’.”
Randy narrowed his eyes. Mal better watch who he told to shut up. Randy hadn’t gotten in a fistfight in years, but defending his girl would be worth a few bruises.
Your girl. Really?
Their girl at the very least. And hell, yes, she was.
“Since you guys have rehearsal in a few hours, I’ll let you sleep. Jules, come with me.”
Randy was up and out of the bunk before his brain kicked in. It was only when he was standing in the aisle in his threadbare boxers that he realized, hmm, not the best battle plan.
Juliet’s huge eyes offered another clue that hey, maybe he’d fucked up.
Big time.
Shockingly, Lila did not look displeased in the slightest. In fact, she hustled forward and clasped Randy’s forearm with damn near glee. “Randy. So happy to see you here. Come with.”
He shot Juliet a helpless glance and grabbed his jeans off the floor. She shrugged as he pulled them on, then headed into the main part of the bus ahead of Lila. A moment later, he joined them.
Once they were seated around the round table that bordered the galley-style kitchen, Lila unfolded the magazine under her arm. “I just wanted to say I think it’s great. Let me be the first to congratulate you.”
Juliet frowned and snatched the magazine. “Congratulate us on what? Oh.” She turned the magazine sideways, then closed it and set it down with a grim smile. “How did they get pictures?”
“How do they always get pictures?” Lila asked patiently. “They’re everywhere, and that’s a good thing because Warning Sign desperately needs some press attention. Especially because this gives good trope.”
When Juliet stared at her, Lila nodded. “A favored press narrative. Bad girl with good boy. They love that. It’s not quite as juicy as good girl with bad boy, but we’ll work with what we’ve got.”
Randy plucked up the magazine in question. “What do we have, exactly?”
“Page twenty-two,” Lila informed him, practically beaming.
He opened to a page that contained a picture of himself with his hands down Juliet’s jeans—literally, as he was cupping her ass under the denim—while she kissed him like they were, oh, not being photographed. He even knew when it had been taken.
Juliet had practically a
ttacked him backstage after Tuesday night’s concert in San Jose. They’d thought they were off in a semi-private alcove, but evidently not.
“What the hell is this?” Randy asked, though he already knew. It was a fairly simple concept.
He was dating a famous rockstar, and there was the evidence. He’d been caught with his hands down her pants.
His folks would be so proud. They’d been waiting for him to get with the program all these years. Yes, his own parents had called him “square”, but he really didn’t care to break his streak of supposed goodness like this.
“You can’t be that surprised. Your sister is married to a rockstar.”
“She’s married to him, I’m not. I’m not used to the spotlight. If I’d wanted it, I would’ve continued playing guitar and—”
And he was talking entirely too much.
Lila’s gaze sharpened. “You play guitar?”
“Now and then. It’s a hobby.”
“He’s really good,” Juliet offered.
For the first time ever, he gave her a look meant to silence her. Normally, he couldn’t get enough of the sound of her voice. Now? He craved silence.
He didn’t bring attention to himself, ever. Couldn’t imagine a scenario where he would want to. That stupid Cher show a million years ago had put the final nail in his performing coffin. He much preferred working behind the scenes. Helping Juliet to shine, as she was meant to.
But he’d never gotten notice for his sexual talents before. That was new.
“Interesting.” Lila’s phone buzzed and she rose. “I have to go, but I just wanted to say keep it up. Don’t be shy. Do whatever you need to.” She gave them a breezy smile as she walked toward the front of the bus. “Everyone eats up young love.”
The instant the bus doors closed behind Lila, Molly unfolded from a pretzel formation on her purple floor mat. “Does she really think anyone buys that horseshit?”
“Yes, she does. Try having her as your stepmother.”
Sparks glanced up as Mal wandered to the coffeepot. And choked.
For the first almost twenty-five years of his life, he’d rarely seen any bare male asses other than his father’s, except in the occasional locker room or in porn. Now, in under a month, he’d seen Tristan’s and Malachi Shawcross’s.
Only one of those two had he been okay with seeing.
“Put some pants on, you jerk.” Juliet thumped Mal in the back without even turning to face him. Maybe he’d clipped her in the ear with his swinging trunk.
Jesus. Yeah, Randy was just fine with his much calmer roadie bus.
Mal shrugged and took his freshly poured mug of coffee back into the sleeping area.
Juliet just sighed and poked at the magazine between them on the table, as if it were a dormant snake. “I’m sorry. I know you hate this.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Yes, it is. I should’ve thought. I guess I’m still getting used to the paparazzi. Things with the band have just been so up and down that it’s hard to tell if we’re in or out this month. Most of the time, the press leaves us alone. Michael’s wild Vegas weekend wedding was our last big scandal.”
“I heard that,” Michael called from the other room.
“Maybe this isn’t a bad thing.” Randy touched the edge of the magazine. “If we try to see the bright side.”
“Oh yeah? What is that?”
Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed Molly was still twisting and bending, so he rose and sat down in a chair beside Juliet. Whispered conversations seemed to be their best bet on this bus. “Tris gets itchy,” he murmured against her ear. “If we’re the public couple, that takes some of the heat off him.”
Juliet frowned. “What heat?”
“He likes being a bachelor.”
“So what? You think this way he gets to eat my cake and keep a slice on the side?” Immediately, she shook her head. “Maybe we should’ve laid down rules from the get, because no. No.” She pressed her lips together. “You haven’t done that.”
“No. But you’ve been the end goal all along.”
“What?” she asked softly.
Eh, fuck it. Might as well come clean.
Randy shrugged. “I guess you could say I was fixated, but I never thought I had a chance. You’re way out of my league.”
“No,” she said with the same amount of adamancy, touching his face until he had to meet her eyes. “You’re way out of my league, and I’m so lucky you don’t seem to know it yet.”
He smiled. “Don’t wait up on that one.”
“I won’t, because I don’t want you to ever wise up.” With a sigh, she snuggled against him as he curved his arm around her shoulders. “You know him better than I do.”
“Yeah, but not when it comes to this. We’re all on new ground, so I guess we’ll just keep feeling our way.” He tilted up her chin. “We’ve been doing pretty well so far.”
“Yeah, we have.” She returned his smile. “Wanna help me get dressed for rehearsal?”
“Change that to undressed and now we’re talking.”
She rose with a chuckle and held out a hand to him. Just as he was about to take it, his phone vibrated in the pocket of his jeans. He pulled it out and frowned. Derek was one of his head techs.
“Problem?” Juliet asked as he read the text.
“A small one, yeah. I gotta get over to The Fillmore. Sorry, babe.” He leaned toward her and gave her a quick kiss. It felt weird to not even try to be circumspect, though they’d clearly failed on that mission. “I’ll see you for dinner?”
“You know it. I’ll text you when I’m free.” She rubbed his chest before stepping back and giving him a little wave. A minute later, his shirt came flying through the doorway.
He caught it and laughed.
It was the last time he laughed until shortly before showtime. His day was long and stressful and the dinner he’d planned with Juliet fell by the wayside, thanks to a short they couldn’t identify in the lighting grid. A whole section of bulbs had started to misfire, and it taken them hours to sort through that mess. Then it had been time for soundcheck, which necessitated another series of checks on his end.
With the show looming, there was no time for breaks, and no putting things off. Not even for her. Not when the concert that mattered so much to her was on the line.
The band had shaken up their setlist and had added two new covers into the mix, showing off their grasp of music history. In an iconic venue like The Fillmore, that was necessary. Their opening act—well, the opening act that had been booked for The Grunge, before they’d bailed on the performance—did a lot of Guns ‘n Roses in their sets, so Warning Sign intended to ride the high of the audience knowing those songs.
Smart. They weren’t just talented, they were intelligent and savvy and managed well. He’d seen way too many bands who were missing one of those ingredients flame out.
It wouldn’t be Warning Sign, assuming they didn’t implode from inside. That was always a concern, and even more so for that contentious bunch.
Tonight, though, they were going to be on fire. He wished he could tell Juliet that in person, but a text would have to do. She would be going on in not too long, and he didn’t know enough about her pre-show routines to risk throwing her off.
Yanking out his phone, he typed out a quick message.
You’re going to slay them tonight.
She didn’t answer right away. When she did, he was behind the board, doing one last sweep of the perimeter illumination. Tonight’s concert featured a song with fire-like lights that popped up around the edges of the stage, almost like mini-torches. It was a new effect for Warning Sign and required more checks than usual. Along with all the trouble they’d already had that day, he wasn’t taking any risks.
Everything had to be perfect. For the band, for the show.
For her.
The low series of beeps in his pocket that signaled Juliet made him grin and tug out his phone.
&nbs
p; Thanks. God, I’m starved. My stomach may growl on the mic.
Didn’t you eat?
No, 2 nervous. This is a big concert for us, 1 of our biggest yet. Did u see that crowd? The Grunge practically sold this place out. Now we have to prove we’re worth their money.
You are. I’ll be out there with them. I’m switching off with one of my techs at the board tonight.
It only counts if you’re wearing a Warning Sign T-shirt.
He glanced down at his plain black T-shirt and motioned over one of the younger guys in the crew. “You know where I can get a band shirt?”
“Yeah, try the merch table. The box back here is already empty.”
“Merch table, huh?” Randy scratched the back of his neck. That meant venturing out into the masses. Not that anyone cared about him. The crew was only useful if they helped a fan get closer to fucking the band.
I’m on it.
Come back here and let me see you with our name on your chest.
It was a skill she had, the way she could make even the most innocuous thing seem dirty.
You sure? I don’t want to mess up your pre-show deal.
There is none, other than watching Molly preen & pick scarves. The boys squabble & show off. Elle & I roll our eyes a lot & drink a ton of Red Bull. So yeah, come…help me take the edge off.
There was no missing her winky face emoji. Or the immediate stiffening in his pants.
He could so do that.
God, could he ever.
Eighteen
First, he needed a T-shirt.
After making sure the board was covered by Derek and another tech, Randy made his way down to where they were selling band merchandise. He grabbed a red tee with the band logo splashed across the front in slashing black letters and a bumper sticker. On impulse, he snatched a gray hoodie off the pile too, and pushed all the stuff at the giddy teen manning the table.
“Oh, look at that.” A brunette with a bouncy dark ponytail leaned over to snatch Randy’s bumper sticker from the teen. “It’s like a target.” She had a smoker’s rasp, the kind that sounded oddly musical. “That’s fucking cool. Wish they’d spraypaint that shit on the windows of the bus.”
