She shook her head.
“Not tonight.”
“Not tonight? As in, there might be another night?”
Audrey laughed.
“Let it go Jared, you know the answer to that.”
“Can’t blame a guy for trying. I’m never giving up, you know.”
“I’d be almost flattered if you didn’t chase almost as much skirt as Derek Holt,” Audrey replied dryly. The pair of them had reputations for being voracious in their appetites for female companionship. And they both had their pick of the litter, so to speak. Derek because he was Derek Holt, and Jared because he was close to Derek Holt. Didn’t hurt that they were both easy on the eyes.
Jared smiled wolfishly and drained his beer.
“Gotta take advantage of the perks of the job, Red. But if I was a settling down kind of man, you’d surely be my settling down kind of woman.”
“Lucky me.”
She grabbed a coffee and sat down on one of the over-stuffed sofas that surrounded the drinks and cold buffet table. Her night was far from over. Even after the set was done and everyone else was relaxing, she would still be busy making sure the venue was happy, had paid up and that they left with all the right equipment—Derek Holt included. No going out on the town with one of his random groupies tonight. Tomorrow he was playing Red Rock amphitheater, one of the biggest nights on the tour and the reason Audrey had come out on the road with them. She could sometimes skip the tour, perfectly capable of doing her job remotely, but Red Rock was too big a deal. Holt couldn’t mess up, which meant that neither could she.
“You got a room next door to his, right?” Jared asked, as if reading her mind.
“I do. Don’t worry—but don’t be a bad influence either, Jared Coll. Both of you are going straight to the hotel after the set. And no drinking in the downstairs bar.”
“Yes ma’am.” Jared mock saluted her, and Audrey shook her head wearily, wondering why this job sometimes felt like playing kindergarten teacher. Thank goodness for Rory, the sound engineer. He was the only one out of the three men who behaved like a fully-functioning adult.
She thought of her anonymous hotel room. The white bedsheets that smelled of bleach and the bland beige and cream coordinated furniture. Hotel rooms depressed her these days. They didn’t used to. When she first started working, she thought they were exciting and decadent, but the thrill had long since fizzled. She turned thirty-one this year and had been doing the same job since she was sixteen years old. Hotel rooms all blended into one these days, and she always missed the sweet, warm sunshine smell of Zach and the strange little tufts of bed head that made him look like a new-born chicken first thing in the morning. She smiled. That kid was something else. At five years old, he was inquisitive about everything, driving her half-crazy with ‘why’ as a response to everything.
“I’m going to make a call,” said Audrey, discarding her empty coffee cup and heading toward the exit.
Once she was outside, she dialed her mom’s number.
“Audrey, is that you?”
The reception was poor and her mother’s voice was fuzzy over their staticky connection.
“It’s me. Is he in bed?”
“He is, honey. I’m sorry. We were watching a nature program and he felt right asleep in his granddaddy’s chair!”
Audrey grinned.
“That’s okay. I figured he be fast asleep by now anyway. How was he?”
“Good as gold.”
Audrey could hear the warmth in her mom’s voice. She sent up a silent prayer of gratitude that she had her family to look after Zach while she was working. It wasn’t as often anymore, but there were nights when she had to be away, or out late, and the thought of having to ask her ex-husband was, well—just no.
“And you?”
“Oh, honey, I’m just fine. Fit as a fiddle. Zach keeps me young when he’s here. We baked cookies tonight. Remember Aunty Mabel’s oatmeal raisin recipe that we used to make together? I’ve gone and lost it somewhere. So, we were trying to reinvent them.”
“How did that go?”
“Awful. I turned my back and Zach over-poured the flour, so they taste a little like sand, but we’ll get there. Experimenting is half the fun. How’s Denver?”
Audrey looked around. She was standing in an alleyway that smelled like trash from the nearby dumpster.
“Good. Real good. Just great. Looking forward to coming home.”
“Just one more night now,” her mom soothed.
“Just one more night.”
One more night and then she could snuggle up with her little man on the couch and watch Disney movies on DVD.
“I got to go, Mom.”
“See you soon. Love you, dear.”
“Love you too, Mom.” Audrey hung up the phone. She could hear the sound of intensified applause coming from the auditorium. The set was coming to a close. Her work officially started now. Audrey took a deep breath and stepped back inside the building.
Showtime.
Chapter 3
Derek stepped off the stage, shell shocked.
It was always a surreal experience, performing your own songs to an audience of thousands and having them applaud and cheer, finish the lines of lyrics, join in on the chorus. Afterwards, the moment the lights dimmed to black and he walked away, Derek always felt disjointed, as though he’d left half of himself back onstage.
Tonight, had been different.
While he was up there, his animal had tugged and clawed inside him, an energy building in the pit of his stomach and rising upward into his chest until, at one point, he had almost run off stage in fear that he was going to shift in front of thousands of men and women and reveal his bear to strangers.
That would have brought down the house, Derek thought to himself.
It was the visit to Jackson that had caused it, he was sure. The images of Jakes and the lonely men sitting at dirty tables conversing over his music—of Tanner, his brother, being a few miles down the road and the smell of freshly timbered pines and sawdust in the crisp night air with a backdrop of the mountainous expanse and miles of endless forest that had always called out to him.
He knew that those were the thoughts that had pulled his bear to the surface. It had to be because for the last five years, the creature had lain dormant.
Five long, whirlwind years of fast fame and a rise to the top that had made his head spin. He’d been signed in Nashville. He’d been playing a gig with a couple of local guys—just messing around really—in a dull, dead-end bar near the bus station. A clean-cut, suit-and-tie type had walked in, ordered a soda at the bar, and stayed for the whole set. He’d approached Derek afterward, asking if he could hear more. Then, Derek was invited to come to his studio the next night and bring some of his own songs so they could get them down on a demo. Derek hadn’t taken the guy seriously. He’d been approached before, mostly by bar flies and slick-haired label owners who’d long gone to seed and missed out on too many opportunities to land big talent.
This man had been different.
He’d signed Derek on the spot to Empire Sun Records, and immediately sent him out to play bigger gigs, then record an album. The album subsequently shot to number one on the charts, and later won a Country Music Award. It had been an intense year, followed by another just like it, and then others after that without Derek even noticing that time was passing. Every town had the same women; every state, the same brand of bourbon; every motel and hotel, the same Gideons Bible next to the bed and the same grainy, percolated coffee to wash away the dull throbbing in his head the morning after.
His bear had just faded from him. Retreated.
No urgent, insistent tug from his gut in the middle of the night calling him to shift and run out into the crisp, dew-soaked morning air. No urge to hunt or track in the wilderness.
“Holy shit, Holt. That sure was something else.”
Jessie Packer, the sound engineer, approached him with puppy-like enthusiasm. He was
always complimentary of Derek’s performances but tonight his eyes were gleaming with hero-worship and a tinge of awe.
“You totally had the audience in the palm of your hand. You really had them. I swear, I’ve never seen so many people in dead silence—literally, no one took a swig of beer, nothing! They just stood there, like,” he froze on the spot, mimicking a zombie-like crowd. “It was unreal.”
“Thanks.” Derek replied softly, feeling like he was emerging from a fogbank. He felt the cold sweat trickle down his back, his throat tight and raspy.
“My man!” Jared joined Derek and Jessie, holding out a cold beer to Derek. “You deserve this—just one or Red will have my hide—but you deserve it.”
Derek accepted gladly, popped the cap, and took a deep swig, feeling the icy-cold liquid soothe his throat. They made their way past the numerous clusters of congratulatory event hall staff, all grinning from ear to ear, looking up at him like they couldn’t believe the Derek Holt walked among them.
Jared ushered Derek and Jessie into the green room, shutting the door on the general mayhem that followed a performance.
Derek’s head was buzzing.
He stood in the middle of the room re-orienting himself, trying to pull his shit together, grateful for the silence. Red stood opposite him. He smiled at her, but she was staring at him like he was a stranger.
“No congratulations, Red?” He muttered.
A look of surprise passed briefly across her expression, before being replaced by a faint blush of embarrassment as the realization dawned that she’d forgotten to congratulate him.
“Sorry. You were great Holt, you really were.”
To Derek’s ears, her voice sounded lackluster. He was a little unsettled by how much that bothered him. And then it hit him. He suddenly became aware that it was her words after every gig that were the most important to him. She normally beamed up at him with a big smile and dancing eyes telling him how much she enjoyed it, and he believed her. Believed her above everyone else. Red often brought him down to earth after to the too-high of the adrenaline rush he experienced after a performance.
“I’m pretty sure I pay you to massage my ego, Red,” he drawled.
“You pay me to book your performances, hotel rooms and transportation. You don’t pay me for compliments. Those I give for free. And I did enjoy tonight.”
She moved past him, snatching the beer from his hand before he could protest. He felt his skin prickle from her scent—berries and some other warm, honey-like fragrance
In bear form, he could smell everything, not just the regular scents that a normal human could detect, but all the millions of layers and particles that build a scent. Even in human form, his sense of smell was exceptional, but he knew if he were to turn at that moment, he would be able to smell the perspiration and skin of Red beneath the perfume and fresh clothes. He’d almost forgotten that sensation—the connection he had with mother earth when he was able to almost breathe it in, intimately know his surroundings and the hyper-awareness he had of other beings.
He missed it.
The door of the green room slammed shut behind him.
“What’s up with Red?” Jared asked the room.
Derek shrugged. He had no idea what was bothering her, and he felt a twinge of guilt even though he’d done nothing wrong. Had he? He couldn’t think of anything he’d done wrong. Maybe it was as simple as overworking her. He should give her a few days off after Red Rock.
“She was fine earlier,” Jessie replied. “Maybe she’s worried about tomorrow night. But if you perform like tonight, well…” he gave a low whistle and then grinned broadly.
Derek silently hoped Red Rock wouldn’t be the same. He knew he’d done well tonight, but experiencing his bear’s restlessness, having him rise to the surface, just below his skin like that wasn’t ideal. Especially not at Red Rock. He’d need a bottle of bourbon to get him to sleep tonight. That ought to block out the unwanted memories of his old life with his brother back in Jackson Hole. Yep, a good night’s sleep at the end of a bottle and he’d be back to normal tomorrow.
Five minutes later, Derek was sitting in the passenger seat of the tour bus being driven by Red. Sans bourbon.
“Cute that you all think I need to be chaperoned home like a child,” he muttered.
Red side-eyed him, but she looked less annoyed than she had earlier.
“Just saving you from your demons, Holt. We can’t have you out of commission for half the day tomorrow. Red Rock’s too big a deal and you know it.”
Derek rubbed the stubble on his jaw. They just didn’t get it. He wasn’t looking for partying and fun. He was looking for escape and the sweet oblivion of sleep. Still, it wasn’t worth getting annoyed about. He’d call room service. They always gladly brought him whatever he wanted, no questions asked.
“I know it,” he replied.
He leaned back in his seat, his gaze straying over to Red at the wheel.
The windows were open, letting the night breeze cut through the stifling heat of the cab. Red’s hair looked like fire—lifting up and twirling, catching the yellow from the streetlights while her profile remained hidden in shadow. The breeze carried her berries and honey scent. As she drove, she occasionally nibbled her bottom lip, a habit Derek had noticed long ago—and made a determined decision not to notice again. When it came to women, he didn’t make smart choices, but he sure as hell wasn’t dumb enough to try and mix business with pleasure. Especially not with a woman like Red.
He fixed his eyes on the road.
It took a few moments for the heat in his gut to subside, and the blood racing downwards to his abdomen to disperse back normally. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
Damn you, Red.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” Red kept her eyes on the road as she spoke. She sounded awkward and, Derek thought, kind of melancholy, too.
“No worries,” Derek replied quickly.
“You just kind of blew me away tonight, that’s all.”
Derek felt light all of a sudden and a warm glow spread across his chest. So, she had liked it.
“Thanks,” he muttered, then cleared his throat.
Time alone with Red wasn’t always a good idea. He should remember that. It had been a while since she’d joined them on tour, preferring to manage things from home. He’d almost forgotten the effect she could have over him, making everything okay with a few words, or making him feel a fresh kind of hell with a snarky comment about his womanizing or drinking.
They drove along in silence till they reached the hotel. When Red pulled into the parking lot, they both jumped out of the shared space as quickly as they could.
“Thanks for the ride.” Derek said, breathing in the cool air and trying to shake the scent of Red out of his nostrils. He stretched, looking forward to clean sheets and, for once, almost grateful for an empty bed.
“Don’t mention it.”
They walked into the hotel lobby, Red hunting for the room key cards in her bag. Porters approached them, only to shuffle backward in disappointment when they realized the pair didn’t have any bags.
“Our rooms are next to each other. I’m escorting you to yours, so don’t think of making a beeline for the bar,” Red deadpanned.
“Wasn’t gonna –”
Derek paused.
There was a tall, muscular-looking kid approaching them. Derek recognized him instantly.
“Wesley?”
The boy grinned shoving his hands in his pockets awkwardly.
“Hey, Derek.”
Derek was taken aback. Wesley was one of his brother’s ranch hands. Earlier this evening he thought he’d left Jackson behind, but here was another reminder of his old home town and the life he’d once lived. Wesley was the last person he’d expected to see in Denver. It occurred to him that he hadn’t seen Wesley at Tanner and Heather’s. Usually he was glued to the family.
“Want to get a drink?” Wesley asked.
“No, he doesn
’t.” Red replied firmly. “You two can catch up tomorrow.”
Wesley looked crestfallen.
“We’ll have a beer.” Derek interjected, turning to Red. “He’s family. I’ll be up in an hour, no later than that. I know how important tomorrow is, I’m not going to screw it up.”
Red looked up at him, biting on her lip with worry.
“Fine,” she sighed eventually. “Please just an hour though. Your eyes are already bloodshot, we need to you on top form for–”
“Red. I get it.”
She nodded, turning away and heading for the elevators. Her back was poker straight, her small frame buzzing with tension as she marched across the foyer.
“Wow,” Wesley sighed with admiration as his eyes travelled over Red’s retreating form, “She is—”
“Don’t.” Don’t growled. One more word out of Wesley’s mouth on the subject of Red and he would have cheerfully torn the guy’s head clean off.
Chapter 4
“So, what are you doing here, Wesley?”
They’d been shooting the breeze for a couple of minutes, commenting on how the food in Denver was decent and what a decent hotel Derek was staying at but now he wanted to know what was up with Wesley and why he hadn’t been back in Jackson Hole with Tanner and Heather.
“I came to see you play,” Wesley shrugged. “It’s been awhile. Wanted to see the great Derek Holt super country star on stage and I must say, I wasn’t disappointed. You were amazing.”
Derek waved away the compliments.
“Come on Wes, why weren’t you at the ranch? What’s really going on?”
Wesley looked around the hotel bar. It was mostly empty, aside from a gaggle of young, opulently-dressed teenage girls in the corner who kept glancing over in their direction and giggling.
Wesley moved his stool closer to the table and leaned forward.
“I transformed Derek.”
“What?”
“I turned,” Wesley hissed in a low voice. “You know.”
“No, I don’t know,” Derek was genuinely baffled by what the younger man was trying to tell him.
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