Love on the Run (Pine Harbour Book 5)

by Zoe York

  “Noted.” He swung both of their bags into his right hand and guided her past the doorman with his left firmly planted in the middle of her back.

  It turned out quite a number of the performers for the next day’s concert were in the lobby. There had been a problem with the block of rooms booked for them, but due to parking restrictions, the tour buses had dropped everyone off and left, and now couldn’t get back to pick them up because they’d gotten stuck behind the concert prep area.

  So for a minute, Liana just stood there watching Track order everyone around a little too loudly. He barked at his crew, his band…even other people’s staff, which was rude and off-side.

  By the time he looked up and saw her, he was good and steaming. Normally that would have her ready to run for the hills, because she hated the inevitable conflict. And yeah, she didn’t love it right now, but Dean was right there beside her.

  And it turned out, Dean was like a literal speed bump for Track.

  Her ex glared at her, then swung his gaze to the man beside her and just stopped. He stared at Dean, and she didn’t dare look sideways to find out, but she was pretty sure that Dean was glaring right back.

  Nice guy, her ass. He wore nice as a uniform, but she felt him turn rock solid. Try me, his muscles all screamed.

  That was the moment she knew this would work. When Track stumbled and Dean didn’t even sway.

  “Everyone, this is Dean Foster.” She lifted her sunglasses and deliberately didn’t look at Track, who didn’t need any more explanation than that. Instead she sought out West and Andrew, giving them a small smile. “You guys stuck waiting for a room?”

  They both smiled back. She had a good band.

  Her tour manager, Brad, stepped forward, a worried look on his face. “We weren’t expecting anyone else. We’re going to have trouble getting another hotel room. Everything is sold out due to the Fourth of July. As it is, our block of rooms won’t be ready for another hour.”

  Dean held out his hand. “No worries, man. I’d never want to inconvenience anyone. I took care of that yesterday and booked a room for myself. They had a cancellation, so I lucked out.”

  Brad grinned, relief flooding his face.

  Liana stifled a smile of her own as Dean turned and looked down at her. “I’m gonna go check in, you want to come with me?”

  She nodded, then gestured for her band to follow. “We can raid your mini fridge while we’re waiting.”

  He gave her one of those lazy winks that she still couldn’t work out. Did he even know he was doing it? They were super casual, and he did it when he was…not like he had his guard down, but when he was pleased.

  Maybe he thought that had gone well, too.

  Her relief lasted for exactly two hours and twelve minutes, until they were shuttled over to the Capitol Building for their sound check on the outdoor stage. Their tour buses were parked nearby, so they’d have somewhere to stay between the sound check and the live dress rehearsal show that night, but Track managed to put himself directly in her path once she was done.

  Dean was behind her, but this time they didn’t have the upper hand of advance warning.

  Track had clearly been thinking. Stewing. He stepped in front of her, not quite blocking her path, but if she kept going, they’d be walking side-by-side, and Dean would get pushed back a few steps.

  She skidded to a stop instead, and felt Dean right against her back. “Hey, Track,” she said.

  He nodded at her. His face was set in a hard to read expression. “I hear you disappeared after Savannah.”

  The country music grapevine was damn efficient. She winced inside, but kept her face blank. “We were on break.”

  He snorted. “You going to have a problem on stage tonight? I’d be happy to have my set run long.”

  She was only doing three songs. Other than the fact that it was a dress rehearsal for a nationally televised performance—and even that shouldn’t stress her out—it was the easiest gig possible and they both knew it. “What a sweet offer, but I’m fine.”

  He rocked back on his heels.

  She just smiled coolly and waited for his next volley.

  It didn’t come. His lips tightened for a moment, then he nodded. “Have a good one, then.”

  She returned the slow head bob as he turned and walked away.

  “Breathe,” Dean said quietly behind her.

  Her chest hurt as she exhaled. He squeezed her shoulder, a quick, warm touch that grounded her. “Come on.” She led him through the maze of curtained-off spaces, a makeshift backstage in the centre of the nation’s capital that spilled out into a tight line of tour buses. They weren’t the only performers in the show, not by a long shot, and there were a couple of hundred people milling around the space between the stage and the Capitol Building.

  Nobody paid them any attention as she led Dean to her tour bus.

  “This is our home away from home,” she said as the door swung open for them. “And this is Dwayne, our house mother.”

  The bus driver laughed as Dean climbed aboard. They shook hands. “A little bird told me we were getting another body on board. Welcome.”

  “Thanks, Dwayne.”

  She gave Dean a little smile for using the driver’s name, and he flashed her one of those winks she was starting to want. Danger, she told herself. No crushing on the bodyguard.

  She gave him a quick and dirty tour before showing him his bunk. Then she excused herself to lie down in her room, because she found herself wanting another wink more than she should.

  Six more weeks. She could do anything for six weeks. Especially now she had that big, no-nonsense man in plaid on her side.

  But no more wanting his touch and his looks. She needed to be more disciplined about how she responded to basic human kindness from him. Just because it was rare on her end didn’t mean she could read anything more into it on his end.

  Chapter Nine

  DEAN watched Liana disappear into her bedroom, then turned to face his inquisitors when the door clicked shut.

  Her band members all had different looks on their faces. Jackie was the softest, which surprised him, but she’d had the benefit of a heads-up from Liana, at least in text form.

  Andrew and West—whose names he kept switching in his head, that needed to stop—were harder to get a read on. So he didn’t even try, he just gestured to an empty chair. “Can I sit?”

  West nodded. “Sure.”

  Dean pulled out the chair, but it jerked to a stop when Andrew’s foot looped behind the leg. The bass player crossed his arms. “You’ll need to answer some questions first.”

  “Sure.” Dean glanced down at the chair, and the tension slipped away as Andrew pulled his foot back. He sat down and spread his hands wide. “What do you want to know?”

  “Liana hired you?”

  He nodded. Close enough to the truth.

  Jackie cleared her throat, and West turned pink. Dean slid her a quick look before returning his even gaze to the two younger men. And they were younger. Both in their twenties. Both probably quite emotionally attached to Liana, either having crushed on her or thought of her as their sister.

  And in walked this guy they don’t know, and he’s got his hands on their boss, who probably doesn’t share a lot with them…

  They were protecting her and they had no idea what the threat was. That was noble. Dean could get behind that. Jackie knew more, clearly. He gave her a respectful nod, and she returned it.

  “I’m not looking to get in anyone’s way, and nobody on this bus has anything to worry about. I’m not spying on anyone, you know?” He gestured toward Liana’s room. “I’ve got her back when she’s out in the bigger world. That’s all.”

  “Jackie says you’re Canadian.”

  “I am.”

  “You like beer?”

  He grinned. “I do. Not when I’m on duty, but yeah, I’m sure there’s a time or two when we’ll get a chance to drink to your boss.”

  “You
on duty now?”

  “Fraid so.” He laughed at the legitimately disappointed look on West’s face.

  Andrew cackled at his band mate. “None of us drink much. Poor West isn’t quite enough of a loser to do it on his own.”

  Dean knew that Jackie was sober. Liana hadn’t told him that Andrew didn’t drink, and he made a mental note to find out more about that. “I do play cards, though, if anyone wanted to take my money.”

  West groaned again, this time with an edge of excitement in his voice. “Shit. She told you.”

  “She did.”

  “She warn you that we’re good?”

  “Yep.”

  “Then put your money where your mouth is. Twenty dollar buy-in.”

  He got out his wallet as Jackie called for Dwayne to join them, and just like that, the inquisition was over before it really got rolling.

  He won enough hands to earn respect, and lost more because he wasn’t stupid.

  * * *

  — —

  * * *

  The dress rehearsal went off without a hitch, and they went back to the hotel for the night. Liana insisted Dean didn’t need to walk her to her room, and he insisted he did, but when they got there, she found herself not wanting to say goodnight just yet.

  “Would you like to come in and debrief?”

  He hesitated just long enough for her to worry that maybe it had sounded like an invitation for more than she’d intended, but then he nodded.

  “You looked confident tonight,” he started, settling into the chair at the far end of the room. “It feel okay, being on stage?”

  She nodded as she sat on the bed and unzipped her boots. Wiggling her toes, she set them next to her suitcase which had appeared thanks to the magic of her crew. She grabbed her purse and pulled out her phone, holding up a finger to pause Dean’s next question. “Sorry, I just gotta send a quick thank you note to the roadies.”

  * * *

  Hey guys!

  A big thanks to whoever delivered my suitcase to my room. Much appreciated.

  L

  * * *

  She typed it out one-handed, hit send, then dropped her other hand with a flourish, indicating for Dean to continue.

  He laughed. “You tried to warn me how chaotic it is, but there’s nothing like seeing you in action—at the concert, with your band, even multi-tasking like that—to remind me that there’s a lot of moving parts to the machine.”

  “Mm-hmm.” She yawned.

  “I’ll let you get to bed.”

  “No, it’s okay. I want to debrief a bit. I’m just worn out, even though I had a rest. Hey, speaking of that, I heard you playing poker with the band.”

  His eyes warmed. “Thanks for that tip.”

  “You’re welcome. That went well?”

  “Yeah. They’re a good group.”

  “They really are.”

  He kicked his legs out in front him and crossed them at the ankles. “I liked that last song you played tonight, by the way. ‘River Bed Lullaby’? I’ve heard it before, but wow, in person it was something else.”

  Oh, she loved that song to pieces. It thrilled her that he’d chosen that one to compliment her on, even if it was probably a random pick. “That’s my biggest hit to date. It was my first single.” She sighed and he gave her a curious look. What the hell…she’d already shared a lot with him already. “I was just thinking, as I often do…I wonder if I’d have been given a chance to record it if I’d been with Track when I wrote it.” He gave her a horrified look and she laughed without humour. “Yeah. That’s the depth to which I fear he’s controlled and limited my career. Nice, eh?”

  Dean’s face tightened as he waited for her to continue. It was a sad truth she never said out loud to anyone, and she was surprised she was sharing it now. But in some ways, the fact that he knew little about the industry made it easier.

  “Anyway, all of that fuels some pretty ugly negative self-talk in my head when I try something new.” She let out a rough exhale and closed her eyes for a second. Get it together. “Remember I was telling you about ‘Cravings’? It’s just one of those songs I can’t give up on, even though it didn’t get to be a single. It’s totally different from ‘River Bed Lullaby,’ but in my heart it feels the same.”

  “That’s what you wish all of your songs were like. From the heart?”

  “Every songwriter thinks that. And it’s not necessarily autobiographical in anyway. Just…songs that I feel, you know?”

  “I don’t know if I’ve heard ‘Cravings.’”

  “Probably not.” Only people who’d bought the entire album would have. Track had even stymied an inquiry to have it in a movie soundtrack. She scowled at that memory.

  “I’ll listen to it tonight.”

  “I can give you the album…” She moved to get up and fetch a CD from the ever-present box of swag in the corner of her room, but he held up his hand.

  “I own it.” He winked when she failed to stifle her surprise. “I bought all your stuff after Hope hired us. I just haven’t had a chance to listen to everything yet. Been kind of busy.”

  “Well, enjoy. It’s what I want my next album to sound more like.”

  “Awesome.”

  “Maybe.”

  “What’s not to like?”

  She laughed. “That’s…a whole big thing to explain. But long story short, the label approves my song selections.”

  “The label.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Track.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So every day you’re on tour, every day that passes by, brings you one day closer to having that fight.”

  Her mouth fell open. Yes, yes it did. “Huh.”

  He gave her a small smile, as if to say, how about that? How about that indeed?

  “I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

  “Just something to consider. Naming the fears changes the power dynamic.”

  “You sure you’re not a stealth therapist?”

  He laughed. “No, just a guy who’s been around a lot of fear.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not. That’s life.” His voice got darker, rougher. “I don’t know if you want to talk about the conversation with Track today?”

  Oh. She shifted uncomfortably, heat swelling across the top of her chest, spilling down her arms. “Yeah, he wasn’t so bad this afternoon.”

  “Whoa…” Dean stood up and moved toward her, dropping into a squat right in front of her. “No, he was awful today.”

  “He didn’t really say anything bad.”

  “That’s his game. He picks his words carefully to sound reasonable.” He peered closer, really examining her, and she started to blush. “That’s better. I was worried there for a second. You went pale.”

  “He makes me second-guess myself,” she whispered.

  “You didn’t show that. But I should have stepped in.”

  “Not yet.” She shook her head. No, they couldn’t do that too soon. “I need to get through tomorrow. I can’t escalate anything with him.”

  “Then I need to do a better job of not letting him near you in the first place. What’s the schedule for tomorrow?”

  She closed her eyes and pictured it. “I’m meeting some radio winners for photos and a meet-and-greet here at the hotel, then…nothing until the concert.”

  “Keep your eyes closed.” His voice was closer, lower. Warmer. He squeezed her shoulder, then moved away for a second. The chair scrapped against the carpet, and then he was sitting in front of her, his knees brushing her shins. “Tell me what a good day tomorrow would look like.”

  She laughed gently. “I don’t know.”

  “Try. It’s called visualization. It can be a powerful tool.”

  “I’m tired.” She blinked her eyes open. That took more effort than she liked.

  “Okay.” He was right in front of her, his face steady and calm.

  She frowned. “I’m not avoiding the exercise.” />
  “I didn’t say anything.” But he didn’t move out of the way, either. His legs bracketed hers on either side, not close, but they were there. If she turned, she’d bump into him. “I just want to help you have a good day tomorrow.”

  She looked at him. Most of the time he was either behind her or across a room. There was something different about him when he was up close like this. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it was there, hovering beneath the surface. She’d get it sooner or later. “Why did you take me on as a client?”

  His eyebrows lifted at the deliberate change of subject, but he rolled with it. “Because Hope hired us.”

  She told herself she didn’t feel disappointment at that. That was the right answer. He was debriefing the day and prepping her for tomorrow because that was his job, nothing more.

  If she felt anything, it was fatigue. Her nap on the bus before the show hadn’t fully made up for the fact that she woke up five hours before she wanted to.

  “Today was a good day,” she said softly. “Thank you. For the company and the moral support.”

  They stood at the same time, her sliding off the bed and him pushing his chair back. Their knees brushed, and he settled his hands on her upper arms as she straightened up.

  Somehow she found herself in the circle of Dean’s arms, closer than ever before, and that was when she saw it.

  Behind the cool, hard planes of his face, beneath the granite jaw and the hazel eyes, there was a shadow in his gaze. Deep, dark concern. She worried him, to the point where when she wobbled, he held on long after she found her footing.

  “I’m fine,” she whispered. She meant it in more ways than literally in that moment. It was mostly true.

  “Think about it tonight,” he said roughly. “When you’re lying in bed. Close your eyes and think about what you want tomorrow to be.”

  “It’ll be what it’ll be.” She gave a little laugh. “I thought we were the Fatalists Forever club.”

  “I’m not talking about imagining something warm and fuzzy. Remember, I know how to wage war. If you visualize how the battle will go down, you can control it.”