by Jayne Frost
Baby? Where the fuck did that come from? The word didn’t exist in my vocabulary unless I was talking to Willow.
Tori released a shuddering breath, glossing right over the endearment. “Okay.”
When she shuffled to her room, I followed, just to see if there was anything I’d left in her space. I grabbed a T-shirt from the arm of the chair, my boots—and how the fuck did my deodorant end up on the table? Shaking my head, I added the stick to my growing pile.
Tori froze when voices sounded outside her door.
When she looked at me, her face said it all. Leave. And though I expected it, I couldn’t help the flash of anger that shot through me.
“See you in a bit, princess.”
And then I went to my room. And for the first time since we’d started our little adventure, I closed the door behind me.
An hour later, a member of hotel security escorted me onto an elevator, instructing me to take my place in the back. I complied, even though I knew if push came to shove, I could handle myself much better than he could.
Meeting his gaze in the shiny metal doors, I tipped my chin. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”
He didn’t blink. “We were instructed to take everyone downstairs so they can board their respective buses. That’s all I know.”
My back stiffened, and I pulled my shoulders back. “What about … do you know where they took Tori, er, Mrs. Grayson?”
He shook his head, but his eyes told me he knew more. Since I was already at zero, I had no problem using any means necessary to convince him to change his mind and answer my damn question.
Before I could say a word—threatening or otherwise—the elevator door slid open, and I froze in my tracks. It was chaos on a level I’d never seen. Four uniformed cops held back the unruly crowd that spanned the entire lobby of the hotel.
Security guy called over his shoulder, “Follow me,” and I forced my feet to move. Once we’d reached the periphery of the crowd, he handed me off to two additional cops who escorted me through the mob. Despite their presence, I felt hands on my body, grabbing and pulling and touching as we made our way to the automatic doors. If it were possible, there were more people outside.
Keeping my head down, I shuffled along behind a polished set of boots. A strong hand met the small of my back, guiding me to the open door of my Mustang. “In you go.”
Heart pounding and T-shirt soaked with sweat, I dove behind the wheel. It took all of two seconds to realize that I wasn’t alone. That Tori was already there, hunkered down in the passenger seat.
One dip into Tori’s amber gaze quieted the riot in my head. The moment was fleeting, though, because a loud knock on the windshield drew my attention to the cop whose face was a couple inches from the glass.
“Go!” he ordered.
Red and blue lights flashed from the roof of the police cruiser parked in front of us. There was no time to ask questions, or worry about why I was here, instead of on the bus. I turned the key, slammed the car into gear. And I drove.
We rode in silence for fifteen minutes before my phone’s GPS directed us to merge onto a secluded highway. Two-lanes, because why would anything go my way today?
Leaning forward, I peered through the windshield and up to the cloudy sky.
Awesome.
But unlike our drive into Nashville, Logan was totally in-tune with my mood, and his foot eased off the gas. We couldn’t have been doing more than fifty-five. Which had to be killing him.
“You can go a little faster,” I said as the gap widened between the Mustang and our police escort.
He took my hand, lacing our fingers tightly together. “I’m not worried about it. Tell me about this place we’re going.”
I racked my brain for all the information that Taryn had passed on about the Fontanel Inn. “Do you know who the Mandrells are?” Blue eyes cut to mine, and Logan raised a brow like I was nuts for asking. “Don’t give me that look, they’re country singers. It’s not like I asked if you knew who Kurt Cobain was.”
A smile curved his lips, a little gloomy, like the clouds pressing in on us. “My mama never listened to anything but country. George Straight. Reba. Willie. The Judds.” He slid an appreciative gaze to my custom-made Luccheses. “Have I told you how much I like them boots?” he drawled, the light returning to his eyes.
My cheeks flamed, because, yeah, he’d mentioned it. And after that I’d worn them whenever possible. Always with shorts or a skirt. And that was odd too, since I usually covered my legs.
Tucking my feet as far back against the seat as I could, I continued, “Anyway, the Mandrells built the Fontanel Inn on the same property where one of the sisters had their estate. Barbara, I think. It’s really exclusive. Taryn called one of her contacts in Nashville to get us in.” Since I sounded like I was trying to sell him a time-share, I stopped with the effusive praise. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. Elise can book you a room at one of the hotels downtown. But I don’t want to chance getting sold out again at one of the large chains.”
I felt his gaze boring into the side of my head. “Is that what happened?”
Shrugging, I chewed my lip. “It could’ve been a maid. Or maybe it was the bodyguard. I couldn’t risk it, though, so I had to fire him.”
Which brought us to the real reason I made sure Logan was with me. Protection. At least that’s what I told myself. Only I didn’t believe my own bullshit.
“So you’ve stayed here before?”
Nodding, I twisted my fingers in my lap, hoping against hope he’d leave that one alone. And for once, I got my wish.
Stroking his thumb over mine in a lazy circle, Logan asked. “And who else is going to be there?”
The butterflies in my stomach stopped flapping. “Nobody. There are only six rooms.”
A slow smile ticked up the corners of his lips. “Sounds like my kind of place.”
27
Phone pressed to my ear, I stepped out onto the private deck on the top floor of the carriage house. The Fontanel Inn was everything Tori had described. Secluded, with beautiful views and every amenity.
I should’ve been happy. But I wasn’t. Because there was one thing the carriage house didn’t have—a door connecting it to Tori’s room.
“Are you even listening to me?” Sean growled.
Bracing my forearms against the wood railing, I took in the rolling mountains and green grass. And then I tipped forward and looked to the right, straight into Tori’s window like a peeping Tom. Disgusted with myself, I turned around. But only because I didn’t see her.
“Yeah, I heard you. I just need a few days to chill.”
“You’ve never needed to chill before.”
“I’ve never had someone babysitting me twenty-four seven either. It’s exhausting.” The lie tasted so bitter, I almost took it back.
After a beat of silence, Sean cleared his throat. Never a good sign. “So Tori was babysitting you in her room?”
“What makes you think it was her room? All the rooms look the same.”
“Ahhh …” Sean chuckled like everything made sense now. Because, of course, Tori and me together was all kinds of improbable. “I should’ve guessed. I saw your boots and I thought … I don’t know.”
Another chuckle, and now I wanted to reach through the phone and shake him.
“Nobody’s going to take any pictures out here. This place is off the grid, and the princess is in a separate building. I’ll recharge and then meet y’all on Friday for practice.”
Sean blew out a breath, and I could picture him pulling a face. “You’ve been missing in action a lot lately. Cameron’s getting frustrated.”
“What about?” As if I weren’t keenly aware that Cameron did his best composing on the road. And that he probably had a notebook full of songs for me to review. And by review, I meant play over and over until I’d committed every chord and every word to memory.
Cameron thought it was part of my “process,” s
o he never questioned it. And I lived that lie, too proud or too cowardly to set him straight.
“He’s got new material,” Sean confirmed. “And you know it always takes us a hot minute to get that shit organized.”
Us. He meant me, but he’d never say it.
“I’m working on some stuff too.”
It wasn’t a complete lie. Tori and I ran through songs almost every day. Of course, they weren’t my songs. They were hers.
Sean perked up. “Like … music stuff?”
“What else?” Stalking back into the carriage house, I slammed the door behind me. “I don’t need to know how to read to play the guitar. Or the drums. Or the fucking bass.”
I knew I was being an asshole, but I wanted Sean to stop with the Zen bullshit. To fight with me like we used to. It relieved some of the tension when I started obsessing over the crap in my head.
He let out a controlled breath. “So you’re a one man show now?”
“That’s not what I said.” Dropping into the chair, I dug my fingers into my eyes. “Listen, I gotta go. See you Friday.”
The phone landed on the table and I watched it spin in circles. Round and round. Like me. Yanking my laptop from the protective sleeve, I set the computer on my knee. Instead of checking my email, or browsing porn, or any of the hundred other things I could do online, I directed my browser to a website I had bookmarked.
“Compensatory strategies can help people cope with severe dyslexia. Early diagnosis and support can lead to long-term improvements.”
Improvements.
Not cures. And my window had closed on the whole “early diagnosis and support.”
When I heard knocking a flight below, I slammed the lid shut and trotted down the stairs.
Tori backed up a foot when I yanked the door open. Her gaze dipped to my bare chest, and lower to my sweat pants. “I thought you might like some company. But then I heard voices.”
She peered around me, and I stood back to allow her entry. “Nope. Come on in. It’s just me.”
And my talking computer.
Smiling, she brushed past me, her bare feet padding lightly against the reclaimed wood as she climbed the stairs.
I sank into my former seat while she wandered around, peeking in the bathroom and even the closet.
“Expecting someone to pop out?”
Her cheeks warmed to that rosy pink I liked as she plopped down into the matching chair next to mine. “I guess I’m still a little shook up after this morning. Plus, I forgot how remote this place is.”
Crossing my legs foot to ankle, I rubbed my fingers over my stubble. “I thought you’d be used to it. Living out at Lake Travis and all. That’s pretty remote.”
Her lips fell into a frown. “You never get used to it.” Shifting her focus to my laptop, she sighed and shoved to her feet. “Sorry for barging in. I’ll let you get back to what you were doing.”
I grabbed her hand. “Why? You got a hot date?”
She smiled down at me. “Hardly. I haven’t had a date in years.”
Looping our index fingers, I sank back. “What about Dylan?”
The question slipped out smoothly, like it had been sitting on the tip of my tongue.
Tori’s gaze crashed into mine like a hurricane making landfall, all howling wind and flying debris. “There is nothing going on between me and Dylan. Jesus … is that what everyone thinks?” Squaring her shoulders, she shook her head. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”
She made for the door like the devil himself was chasing her. Appropriate, since I was on my feet and I had her caged against me before she made it three steps.
“Don’t go,” I said close to her ear. “Let’s just hang out for a while.”
Since it was too late to amend the offer to include fucking, I smiled sweetly when she turned around, like I didn’t want to rip her clothes off with my teeth.
She nodded and walked back to the small living area, but instead of the chair, she eased onto the area rug in front of the dormant fireplace. “Dylan isn’t pining for me, you know?”
Dropping down next to her, I reclined on my elbows. “You sure about that?”
After picking at a piece of fiber to avoid looking at me, she examined the small ball of fluff and then blew it off her finger. “Pretty sure, since Taryn had to pay off one of his girlfriend’s last year to keep her from releasing a sex tape.” Tori’s eyes widened, and she gulped. “Shit. I shouldn’t have said that. You can’t tell anyone. Please, Logan. You can’t.”
As much as I wanted all the details of Dylan’s sexcapade, I shrugged. “I won’t say anything. Promise.”
She blew out a relieved breath. “Thank you.”
Since she was in a talkative mood, I pressed my luck. “So you and Dylan have never … you don’t …”
Tori cocked her head. “Fuck?” I nodded, and that drew a light chuckle from her lips. “I’ve never taken things to the next level with Dylan because he reminds me too much of Rhenn.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
The light seeped from her eyes. “I had the original. I don’t want a copy. Not that Dylan’s trying to imitate Rhenn. It’s just something that’s always been. Even before … you know …”
Before he died. She didn’t have to say it.
Eager to pull the conversation out of the nosedive before we hit the ground, I ran a finger over her knee. “Maybe they’re all trying to get your attention.”
It seemed logical to me, but Tori shook her head.
“No. Rhenn was like a force of nature. He drew people to him.”
Since I’d spent my entire career in his shadow, I couldn’t disagree, so I nodded.
“You’re like him in that way.” It slipped out softly, like an inner thought she hadn’t meant to reveal. “But different.”
The voice in my head told me not to ask. That I didn’t want to know. But my inner masochist seized control of my vocal chords. “How so?”
She hummed softly. “Rhenn had this energy, but you—” Her gaze shot to mine when I started to push to my feet. “What?”
“Figured I might need a drink before you tell me everything that’s wrong with me.”
I felt her eyes on my back as I strode to the kitchenette. When I returned, she took the Dr. Pepper I offered with a frown.
“There’s nothing wrong with you. What I was trying to say is that … Rhenn had this energy about him because he knew.”
Cracking open my bottle of water, I wondered if it was too early to trade it for something stronger. “Knew what, princess?”
Tori’s eyes flashed hot at my sarcastic tone. “He knew he had an expiration date. It’s the reason he was able to do everything he did. Why he focused all his energy on being who he was. Because he knew.”
I raised a skeptical brow. “He told you this? Like he had a premonition?”
“No.” She scoffed. “He didn’t have to tell me. I saw it. The singular focus. It wasn’t the talent. Hell, Dylan has more natural talent than Rhenn did. So do you. But Rhenn was committed to the music above anything else. Or anyone else.” Unshed tears glazed her words as they spilled from her lips, falling like rain on the expensive rug. “That was his true gift.”
Tori didn’t seem salty about the revelation. It just was. Like a blue sky or a bitter lemon or night following day.
But still, I had to wonder why she told me. Was it a cautionary tale or a guide to greatness?
Her shoulders sagged, and she looked down. “Rhenn was the one who approved the modifications to the bus,” she said quietly. “So that we could do the acoustic tour in the short window before we had to record the next album. He didn’t know … I mean, he didn’t think …”
As she struggled to push the confession past her lips, I took her hand. No details from the accident were ever disclosed. And maybe that was for the best. “You don’t have to explain.”
She nodded, and I thought she was finished, but then she sighed. “Xtreme Modifications cut
corners in order to comply with Rhenn’s timeline. They didn’t have the rivets inspected. Partly because they didn’t use the right grade of metal on the panels. So when the semi hit the bus, it sheared it in two. Rhenn and Paige were in the front, close to the point of impact. Miles and I were in the back.
“Xtreme produced at least ten emails alluding to the fact that Rhenn was aware of what they were doing. But he wasn’t. Not really. He just told them to get it done and threw a bunch of money their way. Xtreme should’ve stood up to him. Told him that what he was asking was impossible.” She smiled then, and there was no malice, no anger, just lingering sadness. “But that was hard to do. Even for me. Like I said, he was a force of nature. Kind of like you.”
Her gaze roamed over my face and then she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. Unsure if she was lost in a memory, I tipped my head back before it went any further. Her eyes shone with lust. And on any other day, with any other girl, that would’ve been enough. But when I finally got Tori under me, I didn’t want anyone else in her head.
I tucked a fallen curl behind her ear. “What do you say you put on those cowboy boots and let me take you to dinner?”
28
Easing onto the floor in the bathroom, I laid the tiny pair of black panties on my lap. Tracing a finger over the little bow on the front, I thought about wearing them to dinner. Skimpy lingerie wasn’t normally my thing. That was Taryn. She spent thousands at La Perla and Agent Provocateur. But I was more comfortable in plain, white cotton.
I stood up and slipped the lace over my hips, just to see how they looked.
Scrutinizing my reflection in the mirror, I touched the thick scar under my left breast. My hand wandered to the braided skin around my hip. And then down to the uneven patch on my thigh.
My appetite disappeared along with any hope that I could hide all the devastation under pretty lace and soft silk. There wasn’t enough fabric in the world for that.
