by Eden Summers
Motherfucking asshole.
“He needs to pay.”
“No.” She stepped closer, her slight frame taking up his periphery. “We all know what he’s like. Mason deflects emotion. Instead of showing he cares, he turns his feelings into a joke. It’s what he does. It’s what all of them do.”
“His bullshit attitude isn’t a defense.”
“Ryan.” Her tone was guttural as she slid in front of him, leaning down to meet his gaze. There was something in her eyes, something that put him on edge and built his concern with every blink of her lashes. “This—” she waved a hand between them, “—is exactly why there’s a clause in my contract. Your feelings for me can’t get in the way of my position or your friendship with the rest of the band. This reaction, and ones like it, will be the reason why I have to walk away.”
He stepped back, unable to mask the horror contorting his face. “So I quit caring and ignore how ten thousand fans are now talking about you and some tattoo artist from Vegas?” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Jesus. I need fresh air.”
The after-show adrenaline was getting to him. The accompanying ton of emotional baggage on top of it was unbearable. He made for the end of the hall, not wanting to take his instability out on her.
“Please don’t be angry with me,” she called after him.
“I’m not angry with you.” He stopped. “But I also can’t pretend like tonight was a walk in the park.”
She strode forward and lowered her voice. “Then take it out on me. It’s my fault. Not Mason’s.”
A derisive scoff escaped his lips.
“Please, Ryan.”
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“Yep.” He threw his arms up in the air. “I’ll take it out on you. But it’ll be on my bus. Tonight.”
She shook her head. “You know I can’t do that. Especially not now.”
“Then don’t ask me not to take this further with the asshole who humiliated you.”
“Let me get this straight.” She cocked a hand against her hip. “You’re trying to manipulate me to get me on your bus tonight?”
“On my bus. In my bed.” He shrugged. “Either I take it up with you or I take it up with Mason. And I sure as shit won’t be using the same techniques.”
His angry expression subsided with the quirk of her lips.
“I don’t like Mason enough to risk getting caught.”
“Then I’ll take it up with him. Let the fucker know I’ll be waiting on the bus.”
Leah watched him walk away, her feet refusing to move until he turned the corner and vanished from sight. She’d never cared about the ire she’d previously earned from the guys when she had to make tough band decisions. But this was different. This was emotional and exactly what she needed to remove herself from ASAP.
She dragged herself to the dressing room door and knocked once, not bothering to wait for a response before she walked inside.
“Where’s Mason?”
“Hiding in the shower.” Blake rubbed a towel through his wet hair. He was naked from the waist up, displaying a new tattoo over his collarbone that read “She stole my heart but made me whole,” in delicate font.
“Where’s Ryan?” Sean sank into one of the arm chairs, a clean towel waiting in his lap.
“He said he needed fresh air.”
Mitch winced. “He wasn’t happy on stage. I thought I was going to have to hold him back from ripping Mason’s head off.”
It was her fault for not warning him. Her text message wasn’t good enough. Then again, she’d never expected him to flip from the calm, caring man she knew, into someone overrun with aggression. “Can you please keep an eye on him? Let him know you’re supporting him.”
Blake tugged a clean shirt over his head. “To be honest, Leah, I don’t think it’s us he needs.”
She winced, not appreciating the affirmation of her own thoughts. “I can’t be enough for him right now. He’s got the paparazzi all over him due to the divorce and this crap with Slicker. I should be keeping my distance.”
“Is his old lady still stalling with the divorce proceedings?” Sean asked.
Mitch nodded. “I overheard him talking with his lawyer last night. She’s not letting up and refuses to negotiate any further until she can see him in person.”
“Seems like a dick move to me.” Blake came to her side and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “It’d only make me more adamant to give her nothing.”
She leaned into the embrace, thankful for the connection. “She must be working another angle.”
The bathroom door opened and Mason stepped forward through a wall of steam, a towel wrapped around his waist. “A displeasure to see you, as always, Leah.” He made for the duffle resting on the couch and pulled out a set of clothes. “Thanks for shoving me into a media nightmare. I’m going to have every vulture worldwide wanting the details of the cross dresser who tried to ram my dick down his throat.”
“Tried to ram your dick down his throat?” Sean laughed. “I wonder how your hard dick escaped your pants in the first place.”
“Let me remind you that you pushed first.” Leah crossed her arms over her chest. “You should know by now that I’ll bury you in return.”
“Yeah, I think the upcoming year filled with bi-sexual headlines will firmly cement that in my mind.” He glanced around the room. “Where’s Bennett?”
“Getting some air. Nice job causing him more stress, asshole.” Sean pushed to his feet and disappeared into the bathroom.
“This is my fault?” Mason dropped the towel, his ass on full display before he tugged on his underwear and jeans. “I was told to divert attention away from you and lover boy. In what way did I fail?”
“You didn’t fail,” Leah muttered. “I just wish you’d all realize how hard his life is at the moment. The only constant in his world is the four of you, and most of the time you’re all too busy or preoccupied to consider how he’s feeling.”
“We’re not too busy or preoccupied.” Mason turned to her, fastening his belt. “It’s a guy thing. We don’t do deep and meaningful shit or bond over chick flicks. We decompress in other ways.”
“For example?”
He pulled a collared shirt over his head. “We divert attention away from the crap he can’t control. We play devil’s advocate so he has someone to take his anger out on. We give him the freedom to lose his shit if he needs to. We don’t hover over his shoulder and make everyone aware that he’s struggling.”
She sighed, knowing all the times he’d said ‘we’ should’ve been ‘I.’ “I understand that you’re more comfortable saving the day by hiding under your Captain Asshole persona, but Ryan’s not like most of you. He needs friendship. He needs someone to talk to. He needs—”
“Does he?” Mason raised a brow. “Or is that what Julie shaped him to need? Because I sure as shit remember him being one of us when we first started out. It wasn’t until after they were married, and she sank her nails in, that he turned soft.”
“He’s not soft,” Blake muttered.
“No, he’s not.” Leah glared at Mason. “You need to stop treating him like a leper just because he thinks and feels differently than you.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Am I the only one who remembers who Ryan used to be? Who he was before his wife changed him?” It was Mason’s turn to hit her with a feral stare. “Yeah, he’s always been the Romeo of the group—the charming son of a bitch who knew how to sweet-talk. But before he was shoved under the thumb, he used to party like the rest of us. He used to get into fights and swear like a trucker and not give a shit about upsetting everyone.” He stabbed a finger at his chest. “I, for one, am not going to sit around and stop the old Ryan from making a comeback. You’re too busy trying to keep him in the box Julie created, while I’m trying to help him escape that hell hole.”
Leah blinked, once, twice.
As much as Mason drove her to insanity with his carelessness, he was far m
ore emotional than he let on. And he was right, Ryan had been different back when she’d first met him. He was never the seducer or the egotistical manipulator. But he’d been more alive. More energetic. More like the man she’d spent time with over the past week—the man she’d originally fallen for. She just hadn’t realized until Mason pointed it out.
“OK,” she mumbled. “Then what would you suggest to make things easier on him?”
“It’s simple. Give him what he wants.”
She swallowed, remembering what his most recent request had been.
Mason latched onto the sight, his eyes narrowing, his lips quirking. “What does he want, Leah?”
Damn him.
His smirk grew with the knowledge in his eyes. “Leah?”
“He wants me on your bus.”
“There you go.” He dusted his hands together as if his work here was done. “An easy fix for tonight’s drama.”
“No.” She shook her head. “It’s not an easy fix. Not when anyone seeing me get on or off your bus will immediately make assumptions.”
“You’re thinking too much into it.” Mitch grabbed a towel from the pile in the corner of the room and leaned on the counter beside the bathroom door. “You’re our manager, of course you’re going to spend nights on our bus when we’ve got business to discuss.”
“What about the driver? I won’t risk anyone else finding out, and it’s not like Ryan wants me on-board so we can sing Kumbaya.”
“Pat will be fine. He’s signed a confidentiality agreement like the rest of the crew, and most of the time he has his earphones in to give us privacy.” Mason lugged his duffle off the couch and moved to the corner of the room to grab another off the floor. “It’s my own ears I’m worried about.”
She shuddered. The thought of them overhearing anything intimate between her and Ryan wasn’t pleasing to her either.
“I think it’s a good idea,” Mitch offered. “With Alana back at her mother’s retreat until we take a break back home, it’ll be good to have another female onboard.”
“As long as you’re OK with it, Lee-lee.” Blake pinned her, his eyes asking innumerable questions. “Is this what you want?”
It was. She wanted to spend every waking moment with Ryan. To be unrestricted and unfazed by external influences. But there was something she wanted above all else. “More than anything, I want him to be happy.”
“Then you’ve got your answer.” Mason headed for the door, a duffle bag hanging over each shoulder. “Go get your shit and we’ll meet him at the parking lot.”
Chapter Seventeen
Ryan leaned over, peering out the bus window. Mason and Leah had exited the stadium, the pair parting ways as they headed toward two different buses.
The cold shower had calmed him, at least enough to realize he owed her an apology. One that should come face to face, preferably with more material covering his body. For now, the towel would have to do. His suitcase was packed somewhere beneath the bus and his duffle was still in the dressing room.
He walked down the aisle, his attention now on Mason who had stopped in his tracks.
“Leah.” The Reckless front man’s shout was loud enough to draw the attention of the nearby crew and stadium staff. “Hurry up and get your shit. We need to go over this contract before I can catch some Zs.”
Contract? Ryan leaned over the small booth dining table, trying to catch a glimpse of the woman in question. No luck. She’d walked out of view, teasing his senses from afar. He was still snooping when Mason climbed onto the bus, taking the three steps in his stride before stopping at the start of the aisle.
“Let me have it.” Mason spread his arms wide, two duffels swinging at his sides. “Get it off your chest.”
Ryan straightened. “I’ve got nothing to say.” Nothing helpful, anyway.
Mason gave a casual nod. “Fair enough.” He lowered a shoulder and grabbed the duffle strap before it fell. “Peace offering?”
“Thanks.” He accepted his bag and dropped it to the floor to go in search of clean clothes. “What contract do you need to go over with Leah?” He felt like a dick for asking, for snooping, but he couldn’t help wanting to know everything where she was concerned.
“There’s no contract.” Mason stepped over him and shoved a duffle into the narrow storage cupboard beside the first column of bunks. “She said you wanted her on the bus, but she was worried about people asking questions. I just gave her an alibi.”
“Thanks.” The word was grated, not entirely forthcoming.
“Consider it another peace offering.” Mason continued walking. “If you need me, I’ll be hiding in the back, watching TV and hoping for temporary deafness.”
Ryan fought a smile as he bundled a set of clean clothes in his arms and shoved to his feet. The rest of the band climbed onto the bus behind him, Blake, Mitch, and Sean trailing in a row.
“I need a drink.” Mitch slid his duffle along the ground and pulled open the fridge. “You want one, Ry?”
“You guys aren’t going to chew me out first?” Ryan tugged his underwear on beneath the towel, then his sweats. He’d find a shirt later.
“Chew you out for what?” Blake squeezed past. “Not taking a swing at Mason when you had the chance?”
“It was definitely a missed opportunity.” Sean pulled the fridge door wider, sliding an arm past Mitch to grab a beer.
“I lost my cool,” he admitted. “It shouldn’t have happened.”
“I hate to break it to you, bro, but you’ve never been cool.” Mitch pulled two drinks from the fridge and closed the door with a nudge of his elbow.
More jokes. More laughter. Ryan supposed he should be thankful for the lack of accountability. He probably would’ve been if it didn’t increase his guilt.
He dragged his feet to the storage cupboard, shoved his bag inside, and came back to take the beer from Mitch’s outstretched arm. “Thanks.” He twisted the top and took a long pull, his gaze straying to the beauty making her way up the bus stairs.
Sean temporarily blocked his view as he passed, making it impossible to anticipate what mood she was in. “I’ll be out back with Mace if you guys need me.”
Ryan nodded and cocked a hip against the bunks as Leah made her way toward him, her overnight bag on one shoulder, her handbag over the other. She wasn’t smiling, wasn’t glaring either.
“Do you still want me here?” her voice was soft, but it didn’t offer them privacy, not when Blake and Mitch were sitting around the booth seat in silence and he was yet to hear the television turn on at the back of the bus.
“The answer to that will always be yes.” He pretended they didn’t have an audience, that his words were only heard by her.
She nodded. “Where do you want me to put my bags?”
“Anywhere. There’s room in the storage cupboard if you want me to stack them.”
“Let me get a change of clothes first. I need to have a quick shower before we get on the road.” She lowered her bag to the floor and riffled through the contents, coming out with nightwear and a small beauty bag. “That should be all I need.” She straightened, her belongings clutched to her chest.
Lucky her. His needs were far more extravagant. The post-show adrenaline demanded action. What action, he wasn’t entirely sure. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “Forgive me for losing my mind?”
Her breathy chuckle brushed his lips. “Don’t worry, I think mine is equally lost.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Her gaze lowered. “You being shirtless doesn’t help.”
“I’m happy for you to even the score.”
Her laughter did crazy things to him. He wanted to sink into the sound. To bottle it and keep it with him forever.
“You don’t think the guys would mind?”
“I wouldn’t protest,” Sean called out.
Her lips quirked. “We have absolutely no privacy here.”
“Not an ounce,” Blake confirmed.
She rolled her eyes and stepped back. “I’m going to have a shower.”
Ryan extended his arm with her movement, not releasing his hold. “Need any help?”
“No.” She reached for his beer and took a sip, the liquid moistening her lips. “But I’d love if you had a drink waiting for me once I get out.”
“Can do.” He dropped his hand, already hating the distance, and strode for the front of the bus. It was going to be a long night if he couldn’t 007 some private time. There was no way Leah would be sleeping in a different bunk, but what they did in that bunk, while surrounded by eavesdroppers, was another question.
“We all set for Kansas City?” Pat climbed aboard and sank into the driver’s seat. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”
“Yeah.” Ryan slid into the booth beside Blake. “Just try and take the turns easy. Leah’s about to have a shower.”
“Leah?” Pat glanced over his shoulder. “Shit. I guess I’ve gotta stick to the speed limit now.”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” she called from the bathroom.
The bus door closed and the engine burred to life. The steady vibrations coursing through the cushioned seat didn’t help his surge in blood flow. The pulsation damn near killed him. He wondered how long he should wait. One minute? Two? Joining her in the shower was inevitable.
“Don’t bother.” Mitch placed his beer on the table. “I’ve tried getting some bathroom action before and it isn’t worth it. You can barely turn in the shower, let alone swing a dick. Save it until she gets out.”
Ryan glanced over his shoulder to Pat. The driver already had his headphones in place, the music loud enough for him to hear the garbled noise over the hum of the engine. “Don’t forget we’re trying to keep this under wraps.”
“Don’t worry. He can’t hear a thing.”
They were on the road in minutes, the cityscape going unnoticed as he kept his gaze trained on the bathroom door.
