by Quinn, Cari
It was after ten when she finally listened to her screaming back. She’d been on her feet for well over twelve hours and it was beyond time for her to find her apartment. She hadn’t eaten—hadn’t even thought about it.
As quietly as she’d slipped in, she escaped. With a brain full of Logan’s varied and skilled musical talents, she needed to find a quiet place to regroup. She cut through the path between the park and the road to the barn. Huge lights were still on as the volunteers worked out the last few kinks before the show on Friday.
Two days and she had a million details to deal with. She shouldn’t have spent the night watching him rehearse. It had been incredibly hard to hold out against Logan, the man. But seeing his passion for his music on display? Now she was well and truly screwed.
Each time he laughed with Zeke, her chest had ached. When he lost himself in a song and surfaced a few moments later, he always seemed to find her in the room. How was any woman supposed to hold out against that?
Her pocket buzzed as she turned onto Main Street. She pulled her phone out.
You forgot your setlist.
She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. All the shops were closed, the only sounds were the hiss of a distant nail gun and the night battle between the tree frogs and crickets. But one text and she could hear his taunting voice in her head.
Instead of answering, she stuffed her phone back into her pocket and picked up her pace toward Between the Lines. It buzzed again and she managed to ignore it for another block as two more vibrations warned her of more texts.
Unable to turn off her curiosity, she dug out of her phone. Three picture images slowly loaded. Bold, block handwritten setlists, one for each night. They were all labeled, as professional-looking as a typed list.
It was exactly what she’d needed.
There was no reason at all to throw her phone. He was being professional. Just like she’d requested. She jammed her key into the lock and swung open the door. The happy jingle of the overhead bell made her scowl.
She locked up and stomped up the stairs to her loft. The satisfying screech of the old metal lever latch releasing and the pulley system that opened her door made her feel a little better.
She hit the lights and evened out the rest of the way.
Her apartment.
Her haven.
The soothing blues and violets of the sheers that framed her tall windows. The massive magenta couch she’d bought in New Haven that had taken her, Nic, and Adam to get it up the stairs. Followed by another twenty minutes of swearing to get it through the door. Her beloved four poster mahogany bed that took the center stage on a raised dais on the far side of the loft. Along with the ridiculously expensive feather duvet that somehow kept her cool in the summer, and warm in the winter.
These were her constants.
This place was all hers. And one day, when she found the right man, she’d have a house and kids. She’d been building a nest egg for just that day. But nowhere in that plan was there room for a rock star.
She texted back a simple and unadorned, thank you, and plugged her phone into its charger by the door and put him out of her mind.
Mostly.
Ten
Logan snapped the locks on his guitar case. He wasn’t entirely sure when Izzy had snuck out of the barn. He and Zeke had been conferring over the music for a song by Otis Redding and he’d simply known she wouldn’t be there when he turned around.
The air felt different. And the unending supply of energy he’d been blazing through simply melted out of him. Had he been performing for her?
No.
Not completely anyway. The moment he and Cole had plugged in he’d known that the barn was where he belonged for the festival. He’d do the main stage to close out the weekend as he always did, but this was where the magic was.
Lindsey and Cole meshed well enough at the start, but by the end of the night all of them had been as tight as a jam band. Zeke and Morgan, from his band, could play with anyone. He’d had complete confidence in that.
The real wild card would be Johnny Cage. He was a helluva talent, but the boy wasn’t really good at playing second string. And while Logan was more than willing to share the stage with a bunch of artists, this was his show.
Every song had slid into place. It had been years since he’d felt that connection. Fresh and different had been his focus since he’d stepped foot in this barn. The mix of artists he’d chosen for the three extra shows would either be madness or genius. He was still on the fence with which way it was headed.
“You ready to go, Logan?”
He turned at Lindsey’s voice. She was stunning. Beautiful in a way that made men do stupid things. Zeke had been tripping over himself to impress her all night. Logan had met her at a show in Georgia last year and there had been a little buzz between them.
He’d followed her career, watching her falter on the club circuit only to finally hit the radio waves with a strong single. That one bump had been all they’d needed to set Brooklyn Dawn on the right course. Asking her to be a part of the festival would give her the last blast of promotion she needed to get her record label to push her album harder on release. The industry needed a shake up and bands like Brooklyn Dawn were a good start.
Lindsey was exactly the kind of distraction he needed this weekend. She was bright and talented. A sweet and sexy woman with a youthful exuberance that would make him feel alive for a little while. And when it was over they’d go their separate ways without hurt feelings and promises. Lindsey York didn’t dig under his skin like a cactus needle.
She came into the barn, her hands fisted into a hoodie. “Are you all right?”
He gave her a rueful smile. “Yeah. Just a little distracted.”
“It’s been a long night. But a good one, I think.”
“You knocked it out of the park tonight.” He gestured to the stage. “I’m sorry Jamie couldn’t be here to play with us. I think she’d have enjoyed this.”
“She’d die to play with Zeke. Well, she might have broken one of his fingers, possibly an arm, because of the flirting.” They both laughed. “When they got beyond that, I bet there would have been some epic guitar duels.”
Logan huffed out a groaning laugh. “Zeke doesn’t really have an off button when it comes to women.”
She wrapped a curl around her finger. “He’s harmless.”
“Glad you know that. Let me know if he bugs you too much.”
“Nah, it’s flattering. One of the best songwriters in the room wants to flirt with me? I’m good with that.”
“Anytime you want to come down to the studio and work, he’s always up for it. There’s no one on this planet with energy like Z.”
“Are you up for it?”
Logan leaned against the stage and crossed his arms. “You want to try a writing session?”
“If you’re okay with that.”
“Yeah. We’ve got all afternoon to mess around.”
She stepped a little closer. “I’d like that.”
He dropped his arms, his palm flattening against the planks framing out the front of the stage. “Yeah, I would too.” They had chemistry from a music standpoint. That had been evident in their rehearsal.
He lifted his other hand to her cheek and she tipped her head up. The signal was clear. She was interested, or at least enough to see how he tasted. She licked her lower lip and he took a breath.
She was the right choice. Uncomplicated and beautiful. A perfect way to empty the untapped tension he’d been carrying around with him for the last eight months.
And still, the wrongness of it arrowed between his shoulder blades as he bent his head and touched her lips. She went up on her toes and met him full-on. Soft, pliant, and skilled. He tried to lose himself in the meeting of lips. Lindsey York’s kiss should have been just what he needed.
If he hadn’t met Izzy.
“Dammit,” he whispered and stepped back as he stared at the floor.
Sh
e slowly lowered her heels back onto the funky little flip flops she’d changed into halfway through rehearsal. “Yeah, I had a feeling.”
He met her gaze. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I got to kiss Logan King. You know how many women would like to say that?”
“I…” What the hell could he say that didn’t make him sound like a complete douchebag?
“I get it, Logan.” Her smile was open and friendly. “It would have been fun, but I understand.”
He speared his fingers into his hair. “Good thing you do, because I don’t.”
“Sure you do.” She patted his cheek. “You’re kissing the wrong girl. I’ve been watching you stare down that woman who’s running this shindig. Bella? I think that’s her name.”
“Izzy,” he said with a nod.
She flipped a long tail of silvery blond hair over her shoulder. “That’s the one.”
He sighed and jammed his hands into his pockets. “Why are you kissing me, then?”
She tipped her head to the side and raised one eyebrow. “Because you’re hot.”
He barked out a laugh. “Thanks, I think.”
She shrugged. “I had your poster on my wall when I was fifteen. This is fantasy central here, buddy.”
“I’m just a guy, Lindz. No different than the rest.”
“Sure, you keep telling yourself that. Especially considering you’re kissing me when you should be chasing after the one you really want.”
He straightened his shoulders. “No, I shouldn’t.”
“Well, let me reword it. You want to be kissing Bella.”
“Me and Izzy won’t work.”
“Why?”
“Because…” Because he wasn’t the stable boyfriend type. Because it wouldn’t work. Because if she knew just what kind of complications came with him, Izzy would be crossing the street to get away from him. There were so many reasons he could choke on them.
But the biggest one was her.
His gut rolled, but he forced himself to own up to the name. Aimee Collen.
“All those reasons I saw on your face, don’t compete with the fire in your eyes when I say the name Bella.”
He clenched his jaw and schooled his features into the blank mask he’d perfected over the years.
Lindsey propped her hands on her hips. “Izzy.”
His chest constricted, but he didn’t say a damn word.
She pointed her finger at his nose and made little circles. “Flaring nostrils and that muscle tic thing that guys do when they’re frustrated. Oh, and your shoulders are so tense you’re probably getting a headache.”
Logan tipped his head back. “Awesome. Glad I’m so easy to read.”
“Nah, I just know the signs. You have the hots for her and she’s got the hots for you, that’s for damn sure.”
He folded his arms across his chest. When she pealed out a delighted laugh, he sighed. “Not cool, Lindz.”
“Hey, I kissed one of the world’s hottest and most eligible bachelors and he was thinking about another chick. I should have clocked you. Instead I’m going to give you some advice.” She jammed her finger into his chest. “Go after the girl.” When he opened his mouth to object, she wagged that same damn finger at him. “Don’t give me any excuses.”
“It’s not an excuse. It’s a fact.”
“It’s a fact only because you’ve got it in your head that way.”
“If I could change it I would.”
“But it would be okay with me?” She tipped her head, a frown beetling her slim brows. Then they smoothed. “Ah, I get it. Because it would only be a weekend of fun?” She lifted her chin. “What if we’d clicked? Would I be off the list too?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
She huffed out a breath. “Well, you tell it like it is, now don’t you?”
He swiped his palm down his stubbled neck. He was bungling this, like he’d fucked everything up lately. “I’ve got a security issue.” He swallowed hard and searched her face. “It’s not good.”
Understanding bloomed slowly. “How long?”
“Two years.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Jesus, Logan. How?”
Only another artist knew just how security worked in the life they chose. And being a woman helped. “I’m just lucky, I guess. She’s very well-funded for a stalker and it’s a very long story.”
She rubbed his arm. “I’m sorry. I’ve had a few close calls in the last few years. With the paparazzi in our faces all the damn time, it gets easier for them to find us.”
He crossed his arms. “There’s an app for my whereabouts evidently.”
“Then why isn’t there security all over the place?”
“I won’t live like that.” He refused to be a prisoner to his fame.
“Oh, hon, you already are. If you’re denying yourself a relationship because of this, then you’re letting her win.” She held up a hand. “That’s all I’ll say about it. Why don’t we get out of here, huh?”
He nodded and tucked the portfolio under his folded arms. She seemed to know he didn’t want to talk and he was grateful. He’d tried to ignore Izzy all night, but the way she reacted to his music, her gaze on him at odd moments that night, the way he’d searched her out—all of it had been on display and far more obvious than he’d like. He was stupid for encouraging Izzy.
Someone had been enterprising enough to get rid of the last of the stragglers that had been watching their rehearsals. They’d been lucky the fans had been under a reasonable level of control that night. He had a security detail coming in tomorrow to keep things a little more streamlined.
The drive back to his cabin was filled with ribbing and the usual trash talk. Everyone was glad to be done for the night and he had to admit he was happy to have the distraction.
Lindsey was right. Hell, Zeke was right. He was letting Aimee rule his life. It had been happening little by little for the last eight months. He just wasn’t sure how to push it aside.
Logan pressed his forehead against the window. The night was ink black with a sliver of moon to break up the star studded sky.
“You’re very pensive.”
Logan swiveled to Zeke’s voice. “Just tired.”
“You know we have epic drinking to do.”
“You animals are going to eat all my food and drink all my booze. You don’t need me to be there to do it.”
“So you can go up to your room and be moody?”
“Maybe go down to the studio and be moody,” Logan said.
“You would.”
“It is soundproofed.”
“Let’s not be Mr. Anti-social the first night, huh?”
Cody dropped his huge head into Logan’s lap with a muffled whine. Logan stroked between his ears and down his muzzle just as the dog liked until they began the climb up to the cabin. Then Cody sat up between them, his huge tail thumping on the seat.
The lights were on and another car was in the drive as they came up. Everyone and their damn brother had access to his house this weekend, so he wasn’t shocked to find Emerson, one of his bandmates, at the stove when he walked in.
“Oh, man you made it.” Zeke slapped Emerson’s back. “What is that glorious smell?”
“Jambalaya.”
“You are a beautiful man.” Cole brought up the back. He slung an arm around Emerson’s shoulders. “Your mama’s recipe?”
“Is there any other way?” Emerson asked with a laugh.
Zeke patted his cheek. “Look at you all beardy. We’ve only been off the road for two weeks.”
Emerson scratched at Zeke’s blond beard. “A real man can grow a beard quick. You’ve been growing that thing for months.”
Zeke glanced around. “Where’s Christian? I thought he was coming out for this?”
Emerson sighed. “He didn’t respond to my texts or calls. I’m not sure if he’s going to show.”
Logan frowned. “That’s not like him.” Christian was their rhyt
hm guitarist and usually the first one clamoring to play the life shows.
“Maybe he’s holed up with a woman.” Zeke waggled his eyebrows.
“Is that your answer for everything?” Logan asked as he shook his head.
“It should be. Especially since we just got off the road.” He punched Logan in the arm.
The ribbing continued as Lindsey and Morgan came in. Soon the room was filled with laughter, the yeasty smell of fresh bread and the rich, spicy scent of shrimp and sausage-infused rice. The clang of dishes and laughter carried through the meal. His wine fridge was also four bottles lighter by the time the bowls were empty.
When cleanup turned into a showcase of name that year for song titles, Logan quietly escaped through the back door with the remnants of a bottle of Pinot Grigio. The night was still heavy with humidity and the lure of the pool was too much to resist. He kicked off his boots, rolled up his jeans to his knees, and dropped his feet into the water.
Inside, the round robin of musicians showing off for each other was a pleasant distraction from thoughts of Izzy. He stretched out on the sandstone lip that curled around the pool and breathed in the fresh air. The sky was a blanket of stars with a tiny scar of moonlight showing through. This was what he’d been missing. And why he would never give up this place.
Life on the road could be claustrophobic. Especially lately. He’d been walling himself off from the people he’d longed to entertain. Shows were something he’d been dreading. Knowing that one face would be there in the second row. Always and without fail. Even on the nights he’d play impromptu shows, she’d known.
She’d found him.
He’d craved familiar faces in the crowd once upon a time. Knowing that a fan would come to multiple shows because the music moved them was its own high. That had been his drug of choice since he’d turned seventeen.
The laser focus of one woman ruined that. Aimee Collen.
That’s how he’d known it was time to come off the road for a while. When the dread outweighed the pleasure it was time to take a break. Tonight had reminded him that the music was still there, still living inside him.
