by Elle Viviani
I know nothing about music, touring, or record labels. Besides, Autumn’s a big girl, and I learned the hard way years ago that she doesn’t need me. Not when she’s got Jensen dogging her heels and breathing down her neck.
“Even if it means becoming a pop princess, Ms. Hart?” I ask. Yeah, I’ve never been very good at taking my own advice.
She lobs her balled-up napkin across the the island at my chest. “Don’t call me that—it’s weird from you—and if you ever call me a ‘pop princess’ again, I’ll let Dolly have her way with your face.”
I hold up my hands. “It’s just the Hartman I know prefers biker boots and leather skirts over sequins and glitter.”
“Maybe I could be a wicked pop princess,” she says with a mischievous grin, spearing a piece of chicken with her fork. “A leather-wearing badass who stomps all over the Chihuahua-toting waifs. You know, like Pink.”
I choke on a piece of broccoli. “Bullshit. You hate that color.”
She throws a chopstick at me. “I meant the artist!”
I catch the stick in midair and return fire, adding a few bits of beef and broccoli to the battle. Soon she’s throwing up her hands and cowering under my attack. “No fair!” she wails.
“What? You started it.”
“But you’re a frickin’ ex-SEAL!” She scrambles off her stool and seeks refuge behind the island. “Why don’t I challenge you to a sing-off? See how you like that?”
“Deal.” I snag a few pieces of sweet and sour chicken off my plate before creeping around the island. “You’re toast, Hartma—”
Chicken goes everywhere as I’m hit from behind. Unnoticed by Autumn and me, Dolly had been helping herself to the remnants of food being flung around the kitchen. Having exhausted that supply, I become her new target.
“Bad dog!” I shield myself as Dolly licks her way up my arm to my neck. I rip my face away from the Dane’s foot-long tongue and glare at my best friend. “Some help, please?”
Autumn’s shrieks of laughter are cut short as Dolly’s brown eyes fall on her. She throws out her hands as her dog advances. “Now you listen to me, Dolly: stop right th—NO!”
I slowly get to my feet, free at last. I wipe the slobber off my face with the hem of my t-shirt and turn to the wrestling match on the kitchen floor. “Looks like the tables have turned,” I say evilly, rubbing my palms together. All it takes is one desperate look from Autumn to have my conscience speaking up. Blame it on my protector instincts or the devotion I’ve had for this woman since I was five years old. Either way, I’m helpless under those pleading dark eyes.
I reach down and pry Dolly off of her cringing momma. “Dolly, sit!” Dolly sits…and then immediately flops down and passes out.
Autumn accepts the hand I offer her. Her hand feels so good in mine as I pull her up. Too good. “See? Why would you wanna move away from this fun?”
I let go of her the moment she’s on her feet. My hand tingles from the gentle brush of skin on skin, and I nervously lick my lips. “Yeah. Can’t imagine not getting a slobber facial every day.”
“It wouldn’t be every day. How about once a month?” She huffs when I raise an eyebrow. “Okay, once a week. I swear I’m not a stalker!”
“I don’t even know how you’d have time to be over here so much between music and—” Before I can say his name, Autumn’s phone buzzes on the island.
A line pops up between her eyebrows as she reads the name on the screen. “I forgot I was supposed to talk to Cody tonight.” I hide my disappointment by starting the fun task of waking up a prostrate Dolly from a Chinese food-induced coma. When she finally comes around, I lead us toward the hall. Autumn follows after us. “It’s about this new contract.”
“You’re reading your contract again?” I ask, mildly surprised.
Autumn gives a little shrug. “Thought I should have some say over what I’m signing.”
Dolly’s leash and a pair of worn cowgirl boots are sitting by my landing table. The image strikes me in the strangest way, like this is how it always should be. Their stuff, strewn about my place. Our place.
Pushing these dangerous thoughts aside, I grab the leash, clip it to the Dane’s collar, and hand the line to Autumn. “Good.”
Her eyes snap to mine. “Good?”
“Yeah. I’ve always thought you should be more involved even though you have a manager.” Especially because of your manager, I silently add. Jensen and I—well—we’re not close. Let’s leave it at that.
Autumn slides into her boots and turns to me with a big grin on her darkly painted lips. “Well, thanks. See you Wednesday morning?”
“Bright and early.” I step back and open the door for them. Autumn brushes by me, Dolly following after with a dejected look on her face. I lean in to give the pup a goodbye pat when the scent of vanilla and roses fills my nostrils. I shut my eyes as my head swims under the assault. Suddenly I’m back in Asheville, sitting on my back porch watching shooting stars streak across the midnight sky with the girl that was my world.
That same girl’s voice brings me back. “I didn’t ask about your weekend,” Autumn says. “Where’d ya go?”
I open my eyes slowly, unwillingly. “Hiking.”
“Oh…” The tilt of her head sends her rich brown hair cascading over her shoulder. “I love hiking.”
The hurt in her voice cuts through me like a knife. “Maybe I’ll invite you next time if—” I glance at her phone clutched between her slim fingers “—you’re not busy.”
Her espresso-colored eyes meet mine as she places her hand over my heart. I stiffen under the contact, though I know it’s just an old routine. It’s a thing we used to do when we were young to show we were being honest with one another. But it doesn’t erase the fact that her heat is seeping through my thin cotton shirt and pooling on my skin, nor does it mask the racing beat of my heart against her palm.
“I always have time for us, Bry,” she says in a voice thick like molasses and just as sweet.
It flickers through my mind that this is the moment when I should turn around and walk away; the moment I should acknowledge that I need to keep Autumn at arm’s length if I’m being paid to be her shadow for the next six weeks; the moment when I should quit denying that I’m still infatuated with this girl.
It’s the moment when I know I’m screwed.
Chapter 3
Autumn
My alarm goes off at an impossibly early hour the next morning. I slap at the sound, send my phone flying off my nightstand, and sink deeper into my soft comforter. I’ve managed to slip into a dream about Richard Gere in First Knight—what? The man looks good in britches—when someone starts pounding on my front door.
“Alright, alright,” I mutter, throwing off the covers and staggering to my feet. “I’m coming!” I look through the peephole and find my assistant’s bright smile beaming at me. “Oh my God, I overslept.”
“Yup!” Zoe responds from the other side of the door. I open the door and she brushes past me, throwing her Fossil bag on the floor next to my pile of shoes. “Luckily I knew you would, so I’m here an hour early,” she says, heading straight for my kitchen.
“Holy moly, girl,” I say, following her bright purple hair down the hall, “what would I do without you?”
“No clue.” She turns from the fridge as I shuffle up to the island. “And what do you think you’re doing?”
My butt hovers above the kitchen stool as she stares at me. “Caffeine, then food?”
“Nope. No way.”
I sit with a long, drawn-out groan. It does nothing to soften my cold-hearted assistant.
“You haven’t showered, gotten dressed, or finished packing.”
“But I want—”
In a quick kung fu move, she reaches across the counter, grabs my arm, and gives it a firm shove. “Go on, get! I’ll feed you after you shower.” When I don’t immediately move, Zoe scowls. “Now, am I going to have to undress you myself, or can you manage that on your
own?”
Our standoff ends with me sliding off my stool and slinking toward my bedroom. “Oh, alright. But what about Dolly?”
“I’ll give the mini horse her kibble. You focus on getting naked.”
“You get naked,” I grumble as I move my sleepy butt down the hall. “Oh Lord!” I throw myself against the wall as Dolly gallops past me, no doubt having heard the word “kibble” and moving accordingly.
“Have you showered?” Zoe yells as a hundred kibbles strike a metal bowl.
“No! I haven’t even reached my bedroom yet.”
“You have two minutes, and then I’m coming.”
I pick up my pace, knowing full well that my assistant will act on her threats, swiftly and without mercy. Zoe Gomez may only be five foot one, but she still scares the shit out of me.
Five minutes later, I’m standing clean in front of my walk-in closet when Zoe waltzes in, banana in one hand, cell in the other. “Hey, I was just wondering what I should—” I begin.
“Rag & Bone jeans and Bed|Stu boots, the deep violet t-shirt that makes your hair pop, and your brown leather jacket,” she answers, all while walking and texting on her phone.
“Uh, which leather—”
“The Lucky Brand one, not BLANKNYC.” She looks up from her phone and meets my dazed expression. “We need all the luck we can get to weather this tour bus shitstorm.”
I turn on my heel and start grabbing articles of clothing. “Something happen?”
“No. It’s actually going really well.”
I pop my head out of my closet and stare at her. “Then…?”
She shrugs and flicks a lock of her long hair off one shoulder. “You know me, I’m a bit of a drama mama. I think the worst and hope for slightly less worse.”
I roll my eyes and get back to slipping into the outfit ordained by Queen Zoe. “How’s the crew?”
“Good. Haven’t heard from Cody yet, but your road and production managers are already on site to supervise the tech crew while they load the buses.”
“God bless them,” I say under my breath as I struggle into my jeans. The shirt and jacket follow soon after, and I step out and do a little twirl.
Zoe gives me a thumbs up and then brandishes the banana in her hand. The quick move sends her gold bangles skittering up her forearm. “Finish packing and I might give you a treat.”
“I’m not a dog. You can’t train me.”
“Sit.”
I sit. Zoe breaks off a piece of banana and tosses it at me. I catch it in my mouth.
“What have you done to me, Zoe?”
She beams. “Good girl. Now finish packing.”
I eye the rest of the fruit hungrily as I start grabbing various toiletry items. “Are the rest of the buses fully stocked and ready to roll?”
“Almost. Checked everything yesterday while you were meeting with Sunny—though why we needed six bags of salmon-flavored kibble is beyond me.”
I frown as I toss a bunch of shit into my overflowing makeup bag. “Dolly has a fast metabolism.”
“She’s a heifer, don’t even pretend.”
“A cute heifer.”
“Goes without saying.”
“And how’s, um…” My voice peters out as I stifle the urge to ask about Bryce.
But I can’t stifle my body’s response to the thought of him. My skin’s on fire, my mouth dry, and my heart beats out of my chest. It’s an irrational response, but my feelings for Bryce are anything but rational.
I zip up my suitcase, grab the handle, and heave it onto the floor. “Ready?”
My bag narrowly misses my big toe as I try to catch the banana hurtling toward my head.
“Ready,” Zoe cries, hopping off my bed. She shoves her cell into the pocket of her jean overalls and points to the door. “Now let’s get this show on the road!”
Fifteen minutes later, I’m standing in the packed parking lot of Nashville Universal Records trying to control what can only be described as organized chaos.
“No, Jimmy, the lighting and backline crew are on that bus… Kathy, where the hell is Shane? I can’t leave without my sound engineer… Why don’t we try loading the guitars after the seven boxes of organic coconut water? Follow-up question: why do we have seven boxes of organic coconut water?” I whip around as a hand lands on my shoulder. “What now!”
Zoe gives me a look. “Why don’t you save that voice of yours for tonight? Maybe Memphis will enjoy your shrill tones more than us.”
I press my fingers to my temples and rub. “Sorry. I know it’s always like this before a tour. I should shut up and let it happen.”
“Yes, you should. But you won’t.”
I let out a weary laugh. “No, I won’t.”
“That’s okay, because I know one thing that’ll cheer you up.” A genuine smile draws back my assistant’s bright purple lips. “Hemsworth is here.”
I find him immediately, not the real Chris Hemsworth, but his look-alike. “Bryce!”
A weight lifts off my shoulders as he turns his full attention to me. He was chatting with Carter, my tour manager.
“Morning, Hartman,” he says as Zoe and I join them by Carter’s van. Every muscle in my body relaxes under his low drawl. On a whim, I wrap my arms around his toned chest and give him a tight squeeze. Bryce goes completely still until I release my hold and stand back.
“Everything okay?” I ask, my heart beating a few beats too fast.
“Perfectly fine.” His clipped tone and guarded gaze tell me he’s all business this morning. “But I saw you over there in the middle of the equipment loading. You need to stay back. You could get hurt.”
He’s always watching me, always near. It’s something I need to get used to and try to ignore.
Not likely.
Bryce doesn’t flinch when I give his side a playful jab. In fact, I flinch from the impact. “You’re way overprotective.”
He towers over me as he stands a little straighter. “Just doing my job. I’m here for your safety.”
“And to look at,” Zoe mutters under her breath.
My assistant yelps when I poke her in the ribs. I nod at the buses behind me. “Looks like everything’s running smoothly.”
“Same here,” Carter adds, looking at his packed van. His lips draw back into a rare smile as he turns back to Bryce. “Thanks to Mr. Hill we got everything packed in half the time.”
Zoe sighs next to me.
I give my friend a grateful look. “That sounds about right.”
Bryce shifts uncomfortably under all the praise. “Again, just helping as I can. I’ve briefed Carter on the security protocols of this tour, and he’ll make sure the venue adheres to them when he arrives. I’ve also conducted a perimeter sweep—”
“Excuse me, but what is she doing here?”
The four of us turn at the sound of Cody’s voice. I wonder what’s being blown out of proportion this time as he strides toward our group. He’s a brilliant manager, but his love of drama puts my assistant to shame.
“What’s the matter?” I ask.
He points toward the shiny tour bus behind us and scowls. “I just saw Tony leading your dog onto our tour bus.”
I feel rather than see Bryce stiffen next to me. “That’s because I told him to get her settled in. She was still sleepy from the early start.”
Cody flicks back his suit jacket and plants his hands on his hips. “What’s the dog even doing here?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Why is the dog here,” he repeats slowly.
I feel my temper rising. “Because she’s coming with us.”
“The dog’s just going to get in the way.”
The temperature drops a few degrees. Or twenty.
“Are you telling me that I’m not allowed to bring my fur child on my tour?” I ask in a voice that could freeze hell.
“It’s not the dog I don’t like,” Cody says quickly, “it’s animals on tour. The dog—”
“Dolly.” B
ryce’s deep tones cut right through Cody’s rant. Cody throws back his shoulders as he peers up at him.
“Excuse me?” His hostility slides right off of Bryce.
“Her name’s Dolly,” he answers calmly. “I suggest you remember that since she’s your girlfriend’s dog and going to be with us for six weeks.”
Carter and Zoe share a look and stay silent.
I take a deep breath and turn to my assistant. “I could really use that caffeine right about now.”
“Sure.” Zoe grabs her phone. “What do you want from the ’Bucks?”
Cody clears his throat. “At least I managed to get our big star her morning coffee.”
Zoe glares at him as he waltzes over to the picnic table a few feet away. He produces a Starbucks cup from the horde littering the surface and holds it toward me.
“Nonfat latte, extra hot, with a dash of cocoa powder.” He leans over and plants a kiss on my cheek. “Just the way you like it, babe.”
I reluctantly take it from his outstretched hand. “I don’t do dairy on tour. It makes me pitchy. Sorry,” I add, meeting his stunned look.
“But I do!” Zoe plucks it happily out of my hands. “Now, what can I get you, boss?”
“Here.” A second Starbucks cup appears before me. I look up and see Bryce on the other side of it. “I thought you might be tired this morning, so I picked up your favorite.”
Feeling everyone’s eyes on us—one pair hostile, one pair adoring (Zoe cough, cough)—I take it from him. My eyes close in pure bliss after a tentative sip. “Mhmm. A coconut milk latte?”
Bryce gives me a small smile. “With a dash of cinnamon.”
Cody curses next to me. “Cinnamon,” he mutters.
“You don’t have to know my coffee order, Cody,” I say, tossing back the heavenly beverage like it’s a glass of fine whiskey.
He throws a nasty glance at Bryce. “And your bodyguard does?”
Bryce and I lock eyes. “Sometimes your best friend knows you better than you know yourself,” he rumbles. My stomach does a backflip as he gives me that sexy half smile.
I gulp down the rest of my latte, partly because it’s frickin’ delicious and partly to wash away the lump growing in my throat, and wonder if there’s something stronger on the bus.
