by Cari Quinn
“Like ice. Go.”
Ryan followed West. They made their way past the jubilant ladies in the aisle and Randy, who’d somehow been recruited to dance with them. Mal and Michael were still at the table in the kitchen, arguing about some game. Ryan didn’t see Molly, so she must’ve retreated to her bunk to do her toenails in peace.
When West opened the bathroom door and gestured him inside, Ryan blinked. Okay, so Lo hadn’t been kidding. West wanted to have a serious conversation with him away from prying ears. That pretty much left the bathroom and a lot of flushing.
Fuck me.
“Really?” Ryan asked as cheers and jeers sounded behind them. “Is this your idea of fun?”
West backed against the sink and waggled his brows. “Maybe. Is it yours?”
The laughter behind them grew louder. Leave it to West to not use his inside voice. Ever.
“Oh, I’d pay good money to see this.” Jules gave Ryan a shove from behind into the bathroom. “Boys with boys is my favorite kind of show. In fact, I keep hoping that my boys will get on that train.”
“Not gonna happen, Jules,” Randy said in a long-suffering voice.
“What’s the fascination?” Molly asked. “Don’t you want your men focused on you?”
“Oh, they are, trust me. But watching them focus on each other would also be totally hot. It’s a panty-soaker. Check out some porn sometime.”
“If you say so.”
Molly didn’t sound entirely convinced, but Ryan was convinced of one thing—he was ready to get this conversation with West over with so he could get out of the damn bathroom.
“All right, out with it,” Ryan said, pulling the door shut behind him and closing out the continuing talk of the benefits of male-on-male action.
He definitely didn’t have a pony in that race. His horse was aimed directly at one Denver Casey.
“You’re banging Denver.”
Ryan leaned against the door. It was a handy way to keep from sliding to the floor.
He shouldn’t have been that surprised. As much as he and Den had tried to be careful, they lived with these people day in and day out. Most of them had love goggles on, but they weren’t stupid.
And of course, he’d just been talking about fucking her approximately three feet away from West and Lo and the others. He did have an inside voice, but still. Asking for trouble might as well have been his middle name.
Yet instead of being concerned that West knew, he was glad. West was his best friend—one of them anyway. If it had been up to Ryan, he would’ve hung up a damn banner announcing the fact.
But it wasn’t. He understood Denver’s concerns—most of them—and he respected her and cared about her enough not to push her more than was necessary.
External pushes that he hadn’t intentionally caused? Well, those were something else altogether. One might even call that kismet. Especially when the person asking was a guy he trusted with his life.
West kicked Ryan’s boot. “Are you reminiscing or what? I asked you a question, asshat.”
“What part of that was a question? Sounded more like a statement.”
“Are you denying it?”
“What, are you the sex police now?”
“I get it.” West nodded sagely. “She doesn’t want people to know so you’re playing dumb. A natural role for you, by the way.”
Ryan moved away from the door and braced his hands against the edge of the sink beside West. There wasn’t much room to move, but he didn’t mind because he didn’t want to raise his voice for this segment of the conversation.
“Her job is everything to her.”
“Yeah, so?” West gave him a lecherous look. “You planning on breaking some rules of the road up there behind her privacy curtain when we’re all asleep?”
Ryan had to grin. And just in case, he turned on the faucet to add some cushioning noise. He wouldn’t put it past his bandmates to hold a glass against the door to aid in eavesdropping. “If she’d let me, hell yeah.”
West narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. “You’re gone over her.”
Ryan started to deny it. If he gave West an inch, he’d make them into a committed couple like him and Lo in no time. Next thing Ryan knew, West would be scheduling a year of double dates and couples’ cruises and who knew what else. West and Lauren were so happily settled, so completely into each other, that it was hard not to look at them and wonder.
If West—the guy who’d made the single life into a Holy Grail—could settle down, Ryan was pretty certain he could too. He didn’t need a new woman a week. That wasn’t his thing at all.
Denver, on the other hand, treated any kind of routine like a disease.
“We’re new,” he said, instead of everything else swimming in his brain. “It wasn’t planned, it just…happened. There’s no timetable. We’re just going with it.”
“Just messing around then.” West crossed his arms. “Slapping the salami, stroking the peach.”
“You have been hanging out with Lo way too much.”
West shrugged. “Least we aren’t in denial about what we are to each other. I see your face when you talk to her—hell, even when you talk about her. You’re in trouble, dude.”
“It’s not trouble if I’m exactly where I want to be.”
“It is if you’re there alone.”
Ryan didn’t say anything. As if he hadn’t had that exact thought a million times.
“Look, don’t wanna piss in your Cheerios. I’m happy for you guys. Honestly. If you two were a permanent thing, game night would be a standing tradition and Lo would be well on her way to achieving her goal of us having couple friends.”
Ryan scratched his belly. “Is that what it means to be shacked up?”
“Pretty much, son.” West smacked him on the back. “All things are for the good of the union.”
“You mean the good of your dick?”
“My dick is also good for the union.” He grinned. “So we’re going to the Urban concert, right? Lo has her heart set on Haywood meeting us there.”
“Yeah, Den’s okay with stopping.”
“Great.” West took a step toward the door, pausing as Ryan placed his hand on his arm. Looking down at it, West cocked a brow. “Did Jules’s man-on-man talk get you riled up? If so, let me call Lo. She’d want to take video.”
Ryan had to laugh. “You’re happy. I mean, I know you are, but humor me. No regrets?”
“About being with Lo? Fuck no. I regret all the years I didn’t know her. All the times I didn’t have my head screwed on straight and had no clue she was out there.” He exhaled. “A lot of the shit I went through would’ve been easier to deal with if I’d known.”
Ryan swallowed, nodding. He might’ve given the same damn answer if he’d been asked, and Christ, that was terrifying. “I hear that.”
“So no, I regret nothing. She’s the fucking sun, man.”
“Yeah.” Nodding again, Ryan gripped the handle of the faucet without turning it off. Just another minute more. “You won’t say anything.”
“Even to Michael?”
Ryan shook his head. “For her.”
“Okay. Mum’s the word. But you guys suck at being secretive.”
“I suck at it. She’s a damn ace.”
Another thing he’d wondered about more than once. Just why did Denver have such a spy routine down pat? She trusted nothing. Not banks or anything on the grid. It was as if she were in hiding, and he had no idea from what.
Or who.
“She’s all business. Used to be you were too. Love changes a guy, I guess.” West opened the door and grinned at Ryan, ducking as he tossed a toothbrush from the sink at his retreating back.
The hot-pink toothbrush landed on the floor outside the door and a shriek immediately lanced Ryan’s ears.
“You asshole!”
Molly’s. Whoops.
“Sorry,” he called out before starting to laugh as water splashed his hands. He’d almost fo
rgotten the damn faucet.
Distracted much? Nah.
Maybe love had changed him. Or living with this pack of lunatics. Probably both.
And tonight, he’d get to attend a concert that wasn’t his with his girl. Didn’t get much better than that.
Chapter Fourteen
“You’re going to get spotted.”
Ryan hipchecked her and kept walking, pulling his ball cap a little lower on his brow. “No, we won’t. Look at us. Not a bit of glitter eyeshadow to be found. We’re practically unrecognizable.”
Denver glanced at the rest of the group in front of them. There was no denying they’d all taken care with their appearances. They’d waited to show up until dusk, a disguise of its own at a dusty, crowded fair. Everyone was decked out in tank tops, faded jeans, sneakers, and ball caps, and for the ladies, little makeup and ponytails. They were doing their best to blend in as regular people, and so far, they seemed to be doing a good job.
Except for the whole traveling-in-a-pack thing, though already the band was breaking up into little factions. Lo and West were far in front, because she was on the search for her friend Professor Ethan, who they were meeting soon. Behind them, Michael was strolling along with Elle on one side and Molly on the other. Jules and Randy were in the middle, stopping at every game booth to point out something or another. Mal was off to the side, thumbing through stuff on his phone and occasionally glancing up to glare at whatever fool was dumb enough to bump into him or cross his path.
She and Ry were bringing up the rear, so far back they were barely with the rest of the crew. So yeah, they were together, but not. Much better for not getting spotted. All it took was one overzealous fan to call them out and their ruse was over.
So far, so good.
But Denver was worried. Lately, it seemed as if worrying was all she did, especially when it came to being recognized. That she wasn’t the one on the hot seat this time didn’t tamp down on her nerves.
“You’re not enjoying this at all.” Ryan slipped his hand in the back pocket of her jeans and tugged her against his side, leaning down to brush a kiss against her temple. “This is supposed to be fun.”
When she bristled, he sighed. “No one is paying attention to us. We’re at a fair, Den. And we’re friends. The band has seen us hug before.”
“And kiss?” she retorted.
“Sure. I kiss your ass all the time.”
She poked him in his stupidly rock-hard abs and fought a smile. “One of us has to be practical. If the band gets noticed, who do you think will have to go running for the getaway bus?”
“Us, because I’m not letting you out of my sight tonight.”
Her skin warmed. It was almost impossible for her not to react to every sweet word he said or his quick, hot glances. He affected her in a way no other man but—
Nope. That wasn’t for tonight. Wasn’t for any day ever again. The past was dead, and she was with Ryan. At least for tonight, she could be with him without barriers or boundaries or fear.
She owed him that much.
“Think I need a bodyguard, Waters?” She gave in to the urge to tip her head against his shoulder.
He made her feel small in all the best ways. As if he could overpower her at any time, but she’d enjoy it. He never used his power to control her in ways she didn’t like.
She shivered. The exact opposite.
“No, I think I want everyone here to know you’re mine.”
Sure she’d misheard him, she drew back to study him in the dwindling sunlight. The last rays were fading, but all the booths and stands had lights of their own, as did the midway itself. His face was strobed a rainbow of colors from the dizzying array of lights around them, but all she could see was potent, focused green. His eyes were like lasers, burning into hers. Chasing away everything but him in her mind.
He rubbed her ass through the pocket of her jeans, his idea of subtlety. “You’re staring, Colorado. Keep those feet moving.”
Swallowing hard, she forced herself to keep going. People nudged them from all sides, and the laughter and shouts from the other fairgoers diminished any chance for real conversation. Just as well, because this probably wasn’t a chat they should have here. Or anywhere.
They were supposed to be friends with benefits. That was the deal. Possessiveness had no place in their equation, outside the agreement to be exclusive while they were involved. But that wasn’t what Ryan meant. If she’d had any doubts, the intensity in his eyes had answered that question without hesitation.
He wanted more. She’d suspected as much almost right away, though she’d tried to tell herself she was imagining things. Because if she acknowledged he was looking for a real relationship, that meant she needed to put on the brakes. She could give him her body, but the rest wasn’t open for negotiation. It wasn’t only her job on the line.
She wouldn’t risk him. Even if that risk was so tiny as to be infinitesimal, she’d never take the chance.
“How do you feel about foosball?” He nudged her shoulder and inclined his chin toward a tent a few feet ahead with myriad game tables. “Bet I can smoke your ass.”
“Yeah, right. You know I whip your butt at everything even resembling a game. Including answering Jeopardy questions.”
“Dream on. C’mon.” He stopped stroking her ass long enough to snag her hand and aim for the tent. “We’ll see who ends up on top,” he added over his shoulder, waggling his brows.
“We should let the others know we’re splitting off.”
“Mike,” Ry yelled, catching Michael’s attention. Michael glared back at him, and Ryan laughed. He knew Michael hated being called Mike, so he did it now and then just to piss him off. “See ya in a few.” He pointed at the tent and Michael nodded.
“There. All notified.”
Once Michael had been tugged away by Elle toward an archery booth on the opposite side of the midway, Ry stopped them just outside the shade of the tent and wrapped his arm around Denver’s shoulders. Then he pulled off his hat and laid his mouth full on hers.
She gripped a handful of his shirt and inched up on her tiptoes to get as much of his mouth as possible. He slanted his head, delving deeper, and she couldn’t stifle her moan. His answering one echoed in her head, and she couldn’t keep from tormenting them both by tilting her hips against his. Rocking into him while their tongues tangled under the warmth of the setting sun was like a fucking slice of heaven, and she couldn’t get enough.
Even the niggle of awareness along her spine, as if they were being watched, wasn’t enough to make her pull away from him. Nothing was.
“Jesus.” He pulled back after a moment and rubbed her lower lip with his thumb. “Let’s just skip the show and go fuck.”
She had to laugh as she grabbed his hat and put it back on his head, adjusting his wayward curls. “Such a romantic.”
“That’s why you love me.” He grinned and tugged her into the tent.
Her heart sped and she tried to swallow over the sudden grit in her throat. In the old days, if he’d said that, she would’ve taken it at face value and thought nothing of it. Now every comment had a weighted meaning. She had to be careful not to miss any signs.
She had before, and she’d nearly lost everything. Including herself.
Not that Ry was a danger to any part of her but her heart. It was the possible danger she represented to him that had her waking up drenched in sweat. If the past found her, if what her uncle had done and all the steps she’d taken to protect herself and her family weren’t enough, she wasn’t the only one directly in the crosshairs this time.
Now there was Ryan.
The bad dreams didn’t put Ry off. Nothing seemed to. And because she wasn’t strong enough to resist, she clung to him when he whispered soothing things to her in the dark. Always making sure she was okay, no matter how many times she tried to nudge him away.
Always being her best friend, even if she didn’t deserve it. She was lying to him, after all, and
had been since the day they’d met. It was getting harder by the minute to convince herself that what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.
“Red or blue?” Ryan asked, circling the only free foosball table in the back.
“Red.”
He deposited some coins in the slot and gave his guys on their rods a testing spin. “Oh yeah, nice and smooth. Prepare to be decimated.”
She flipped her own levers and wiggled her shoulders to dispel the tension. Enough was enough. “Bring it.”
They hogged the table for close to twenty minutes. She won the first game, and he won the second, but she tapped her watch after he demanded a tie-breaker.
“Wanna miss the show? The grandstand is on the opposite side of the fairgrounds. We have a lot of distance to cover, and we want to get there while there’s still enough room on the lawn for us to sprawl out. And dance.” She said the last part on a whisper, but of course he heard her. He didn’t miss a trick.
“Did you say dance?” He came around the table and wrapped her ponytail around his hand to draw her closer. “Why, Denver Casey, you surprise me.”
The name chased the smile from her face. Stupid, since she should be used to hearing it plenty by now. That was the woman she’d become. Who she was, down deep. But the memories that accompanied it always struck her in the chest like a wrong note being played. One that reverberated in her ears and soured everything but his grin.
Nothing could dim the power of that.
“Don’t think I can bust a move, huh?”
“That particular phrase makes me a little nervous, but I think you can do anything you put your pretty brain to.” He lowered his mouth to her ear. “So this means I get to watch you shake your ass?”
“Watch? Who do you think’ll be dancing with me?” She cocked her head and lifted her brows. “Unless you’re a chicken.”
“I know where my talents lie, and dancing just happens to be one of them.”
“No way.” She reeled back to see if he was putting her on. But nope, his face was in earnest mode—though that could’ve been a fake. He had a good poker face.
