by Jayne Frost
She moved toward the counter, but I cut her off. “Go get dressed. I’ll take care of you.”
Apparently, my tongue and my brain were on the outs. Otherwise, I never would’ve made that promise. But before I could take it back, Tori flashed a grin that lit up her whole face.
Was it really that easy to make the girl smile? And if so, why didn’t everyone do it?
Taking my place in line, I tracked her movements as she weaved through the crowd. Gazing up at the menu, I couldn’t decipher any of the items on the board. I’d been here many times, but always left the ordering to someone else.
Ten minutes later, the waitress shuffled over, and when I made eye contact, I saw the spark of recognition in her eyes.
“What’s good here, darlin’?”
Tilting my sunglasses, I peered at her over the rim, just to confirm what she already suspected.
“Oh my God. It’s you! You’re Logan.”
I managed to grab her hand before anyone investigated her shriek. “Let’s not draw any attention, okay?”
A blush spread from her chest to her hairline. “Sure. What can I get you?” I rattled off a half dozen items, and when she handed me my receipt, she whispered, “Can I get your autograph. Pretty please?”
“Sure.” Tossing her a wink, I scribbled my signature on her notepad.
With her prize in the pocket of her apron, she scurried off to fill my order while I scooted in front of the register. The cashier took my money, too busy to acknowledge me with more than a harried smile.
With the treasures in hand, I slipped out the door. My good mood evaporated when I spotted Tori hovering by the bumper of my Mustang. Clad in a pair of cutoffs with frayed ends that barely peeked from the bottom of the Caged T-shirt, she squinted up at some douche nozzle in a cowboy hat who didn’t know the meaning of the word boundaries.
Scowling, I marched in their direction, wondering why she didn’t just get into the car.
When I clenched my fist, my keys dug into my palm, answering the question.
“You sure you’re married, darlin’?” I heard him ask as Tori turned to make her escape. And then he did it. His beefy paw wrapped around her arm, and I saw red.
“Get your hands off her!” The command ripped from my chest, low and lethal. But the cowboy fuck was too busy leering to notice. Tori’s gaze found mine, and she shook her head imperceptibly. Maybe if the douche wasn’t still standing close enough to breathe all over her, I would’ve heeded the warning.
“Did you fucking hear me?”
Tori slid between us before I could get a hand around the dude’s neck.
Palms flat against my chest, she smiled up at me. “There you are.” My rage subsided as she brushed her fingers lightly over my pounding heart. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“Not likely,” I bit out before turning my attention to the cowboy doing his best to skulk away. “Where do you think you’re going?”
His hands flew up in surrender. “Sorry, bud. I didn’t … I wasn’t …”
Normally, his stammered apology wouldn’t mean shit. Hell, it didn’t mean anything now. But as I took a step forward to teach him a lesson, Tori pried open my fist and laced our fingers. “Let’s go.”
Whatever was left of my anger dissolved under the weight of her touch, the softness of her hand in mine. And without giving the cowboy a second glance, I followed.
13
“Oklahoma, baby!” Paige squealed as she bounced in her seat, pointing out the window of the tour bus. “We’ve officially left the Lone Star State!”
Taryn jumped up from the table and joined her, snapping pictures with the digital camera she’d bought before we left Austin.
Sinking deeper into the well of Rhenn’s arms, I hummed along to the old Garth Brooks tune bleeding from the speaker on the antiquated sound system. He nuzzled my ear, and I felt his lips curve into a smile. “We’re on our way, Belle.”
Gasping, I came off the seat with a start, knocking the box of pastries onto the floorboard. The memory receded, leaving me with a burning throat and tears lining my eyes. Gazing around, I took in the watery landscape outside the window.
“Where are we?” I croaked.
But I knew. Before I even asked, I knew.
Eyes on the road, Logan leaned over the console to retrieve the box at my feet. “Oklahoma.”
His arm brushed my bare leg, and I drew in a sharp breath. A hint of rain lingered on his skin. In his hair. Maybe it was the last vestiges of sleep still clinging to my consciousness, but I reached down and brushed my fingers over the soft, golden locks. “Why did you cut it?”
I’d wanted to ask him ever since the moment I’d seen him back on the bus. But we didn’t have that kind of relationship. We weren’t friends. Except here I was, sifting my fingers through the soft strands that barely reached his collar.
Smiling, he settled back in his seat. “Didn’t think you noticed.” He tipped his chin to the box on my lap. “Hand me a blueberry, will you?” I recognized a diversion when I heard one, so I shut my mouth and sorted through the array of pastries. As I handed him the treat, he closed his hand around mine, pinning me to my seat with a somber gaze. “What were you dreaming about?”
I pulled away as if I’d touched an open flame. But instead of shutting down, I let my eyes wander from his impossibly high cheek bones to his full lips and the blond stubble dusting his jaw. “Answer me first. Why did you cut your hair?”
The muscle in his bicep twitched as he tightened his grip on the wheel, his eyes narrow behind the aviator shades. “It reminded me of someone I’d rather forget.”
“Who?”
His lip quirked at the corner. “That’s two questions, princess. Your turn.”
Maybe it was the confines of the car. The solitude that came when there was nothing but the hum of the highway under the tires. Or it could’ve been that moment we shared back in the parking lot. But I couldn’t stop myself. “Our first tour … we followed this route. Played the same venues.”
Avoiding the prying eyes that had already seen too much, I turned my attention to the scenery.
“Why would you want to follow the same route?”
It was my turn to smile. “That’s two questions. Your turn.”
For a long moment, Logan said nothing, and the air grew thick with the weight of our secrets. Just when I thought he wouldn’t answer, he sighed. “Jake. My old man. I hadn’t seen him in years. But now, he’s … um, back.”
Logan was so caught up in his own thoughts, I could’ve left it right there. Instead, I let the words tumble free. “Mac booked our first tour—launched us after the debut album. At the time I … er, we, thought it was because he believed in the band. But really, it was all upside for Metro. Benny Conner, the concert promoter, he’d already made an offer to take us wide. But Mac wanted the money for himself. To build Metro. We didn’t mind, though. We were partners. Or so we thought.”
My voice fell to a whisper as I reached the end of the tether linking my past and my present. Standing at the abyss, memories threatened to swallow me whole.
I jerked back to myself with a start when Logan placed his phone on my lap.
“What’s this for?” I asked, brushing my fingertips over the Caged logo on the screen. The same lion on the shirt I was wearing. And the medallion hanging from the rearview mirror.
“Why don’t you find something on there to play. I can’t get shit on the radio.” Slanting his gaze my way, he peered at me over the top of his shades. “No Leveraged. Or Revenged Theory. No Drafthouse either.”
Biting down a smile, I opened his music library. “Someone sounds a little jelly.”
I froze when he reached over and swiped the corner of my lip. “I don’t get jealous, princess.” Heat pooled in my belly as he licked the raspberry smudge from his thumb. “And no Britney either. That shit just hurts my ears.”
When I realized I was staring, I shook my head and turned my attention to the phone. “Yeah …
um, mine too.”
Finding a playlist marked “country,” I hit shuffle, and Willie Nelson filled the silence, crooning about angels flying too close to the ground. And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t cringe.
14
Tulsa, OK.
I pressed the phone closer to my ear, the noise from the highway and the breeze making it difficult to hear. When Chase’s growl raced across the line, I realized volume wasn’t going to be an issue. “Where are you?”
Reclining against the hood of my car, I kept an eye on the bathroom where Tori had disappeared a moment earlier. “Rest stop outside of Tulsa.”
Relief laced Chase’s tone as he relayed the information to someone else. Taryn, I assumed. I shook my head, because really, what the fuck did he think I’d done, kidnapped their business partner?
“All right … okay,” he said, his attention back on me. “So you’ll be at the Hard Rock in what, an hour?”
I kicked a stone, and the little pebble skidded across the uneven concrete. “Depends.”
“On what?”
Dropping my head back, I gazed up at the cloudless sky. Was the sky this big in Austin? It didn’t feel like it. “On whether we decide to rob a liquor store now, or after dinner.”
Dead silence, followed by footsteps and a muffled apology to his girl. And then a door slammed.
“Did you lock yourself in the bathroom?” I asked. “Because if you did, you need to get your balls back from Taryn.”
“Goddamn it, Logan,” Chase spat. “This isn’t funny. You don’t have any idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”
Tori’s amber eyes, fearful and desolate, floated through my mind. “Enlighten me then.”
“You’ve never dealt with Tori’s kind of fame. People follow her. They snap pictures and ask questions, and—”
“Yeah, I get it.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes shut. “The princess is pretty popular.”
“Dude, you have no idea.”
But I did. Long before Caged had ever played our first gig—when we were still a garage band without a sound, an original song, or even a name—I’d seen Tori perform at some street fair with her first band, The Austin Dolls. I knew then … the girl was a star. She just hadn’t been discovered yet.
Shoving to my feet, I turned to watch the cars roll by on the busy highway. “Look, I’m just giving the girl a ride to our first show. The rain freaked her the fuck out. Y’all can decide what you’re going to do with her when we get to Tulsa.” Chase grunted something that sounded like agreement, and I sighed. “This really isn’t my idea of a good time, bro. I’ve got to find a reputable transport to ship my car back to Austin before we head to St. Louis.”
“I’ll take care of it,” he grumbled, appeased. For the moment at least. “I’ve got to talk to Taryn—calm her down. Catch you later.”
The line went dead, so I shoved my phone in my pocket. Raking a hand through my hair, I turned and found Tori frozen in her spot three feet away, two Dr. Peppers nestled in the crook of her arm. From the look in her eyes, she’d heard it all.
My spine went rail stiff.
Apologize. Take it back. Explain.
But I couldn’t find the words, so I flicked my gaze to the soda. “Is one of those for me?” She gulped, drawing my attention to the tiny scar at the base of her throat. Suddenly, I had the urge to trace it with my thumb, to ask her how she got it, why it was there.
Without a word, she held out the can, flinching when my fingers closed around hers.
“We better go,” I muttered, flipping my sunglasses from the top of my head to hide my eyes. From the sun, or her wounded gaze. I wasn’t sure which. “I don’t want to run into any traffic.”
Wandering to the window in my suite, I ran a hand through my hair, still damp from the shower I’d taken to wash off the long drive. A riot of purple, pink, and orange painted the sky as the sun made a last-ditch effort to stave off the night.
Taryn had booked the whole floor, but since nobody was due to arrive for three hours, it was quiet. Too damn quiet.
Snatching the half empty bottle of beer from the table, I flopped onto the sofa, my focus on the door connecting Tori’s room to mine.
Yeah, that was all me.
Twenty rooms, and I’d asked the clerk to put me right next to Tori. Not across. Or down the fucking hall. Right on the other side of the door. Not that we’d be doing any socializing since the girl hadn’t spoken a word to me since we left the rest stop.
Earlier, I’d heard music in her suite. But nothing for a while. She’d obviously gone to sleep.
My stomach rumbled, so I picked up the room service menu. A dry chuckle scraped my throat, because, who was I kidding? I couldn’t read the damn thing. And nobody was here to see my lame attempt at pretending I could.
You need to get laid.
Burying myself in a willing body was a sure-fire way to get my mind off the mess I’d made of things today. Off of Tori and her silent treatment. Again, my gaze shifted to the door, and I wondered what the princess would do if she heard some random chick moaning my name all night.
Fuck it.
It wasn’t like our agreement included a celibacy clause.
Hauling to my feet, I strode to the bedroom and got dressed. Checking my reflection in the mirror, I ran my fingers through my hair. The unruly strands barely brushed my shoulders. Not my style at all. And if I were honest, I probably looked more like my old man now than ever.
Shaking my head, I grabbed my key and wallet from the dresser and headed downstairs.
The casino was packed, and rather than wade into the crowd, I skirted the edge of the main floor. And that’s when I saw Tori, standing motionless in front of the wall of memorabilia. Every Hard Rock on the planet had one. But from the way her hand pressed against the glass, she hadn’t run across some random item of interest.
My stomach sank when I edged up behind her. Inside the case was a photo of Rhenn, a pair of worn combat boots, and a guitar propped in a stand.
“It’s got a crack in the neck,” she said softly, her eyes never leaving the guitar. “Rhenn banged it on the floor during a sound check when it wouldn’t hold a tune.” Her bottom lip trembled. “It’s a piece of shit.”
As I struggled for something to say, some way to ease her pain, a couple strolled up, hand in hand. I took a small step, just enough to shield Tori from their prying eyes. But the dude was too busy gazing at the guitar to notice us.
“Man, look at this,” he said, tipping forward to get a better view. “Rhenn Grayson’s guitar. Do you think it’s real?”
His girl shrugged, uninterested. “I don’t know. Let’s go to the buffet, I’m starving.”
Tori’s lips tilted into a sad smile as she watched them walk away. “It’s real,” she whispered. And then drawing in a big breath, she straightened her shoulders and focused on me. “I better get back upstairs.”
Turning on her heel, she headed for the elevators. When she rounded the corner, I shook my head and stalked toward the bar. Sliding a hip onto the first empty stool I could find, I pulled out some cash and ordered a shot of tequila. Before I could lift the glass to my lips a brunette ambled to my side. Cocking her head, she stared at my profile. “You know who you look like?”
When I slanted my gaze her way, her eyes widened just a fraction, and I smiled. “No clue. But why don’t you let me buy you a drink and maybe we can figure it out.”
15
“Ouch,” I hissed, turning the knob on the faucet to add some cold water to my bath.
“What’s happening?” Taryn’s disembodied voice echoed off the walls in the bathroom. “Tori?”
I’d avoided Taryn’s calls all day, but in a moment of weakness, after running headlong into my past, I’d answered the phone. The second my best friend heard the sniffle, she pressed me for details. And instead of keeping my mouth shut, it all poured out in a rush—starting with my freak-out in the parking lot and ending with Rhenn�
�s guitar. But now I was embarrassed and I just wanted to soak the stain of the day out of my pores.
“I’m fine,” I finally said. “Just setting the temperature for my bath.”
With a softer but no less demanding tone, Taryn asked, “Did you do your stretches first?”
My guilty gaze shifted to the exercise bands tossed haphazardly on the floor next to the bed. “Yep.”
The lie slipped out easily, with conviction. It was almost true, since I planned on doing the damn stretches before bed. Maybe.
I pressed my lips together to keep from groaning as I stood. Eight hours in a car and every muscle in my body was stiff. But I couldn’t admit that to Taryn. She was already threatening to hop on a plane and put an end to this farce.
“Did you eat?” she asked.
Ambling to the living room, I popped open the box of leftover kolaches. Picking through the contents, I found what I was looking for—jalapeño, sausage, and cheese. Kind of dinner-like. I took a bite. “Yep.”
She sighed. “What’s with the one-word answers, Belle?”
I dropped the pastry in the trash. “What’s with the third-degree, Taryn.”
We’d perfected this dance over the past five years. Taryn would push as far as I’d let her. But when I was done, I was done.
Before I could unload and tell her exactly how done I was, a knock at the door drew my attention. The interior door. I froze, hoping that Logan had knocked something against the wood by accident. Then I realized that “something” was probably a warm body. Another knock echoed, louder and more insistent.
“Is someone there?” Taryn’s voice rose in alarm as I padded toward the source of the tapping. “Belle, don’t answer it. What if —”
Yanking the door open, I looked up into pale blue eyes. Confusion lined Logan’s brow, as if he didn’t know why he was here, standing at my door with a pizza and a six pack of beer. And neither did I. The callous words he’d tossed out at the rest stop rolled and spun and tumbled around in my head. A soundtrack for my weakness and his disregard.
