“I want you,” he says, his voice soft and rough. “I want you to come back to my room with me.”
I finally make myself pull away so that I can look up at him. His eyes are dark with passion, his jaw set—God, his jaw, so strong and masculine, is sexy.
Stay or go, Paige, I ask myself. One more night of insanely good sex—is it worth the risk to your heart?
He senses my hesitation and a mischievous little smile twists his lips. “Hey, we handled it pretty well last time, right? Nothing got weird between us.” He dips his head so that his forehead is resting on mine, his eyes so close I can see little flecks of gold in the brown. “Why can’t we do it again, if we both want to? We’re adults, right?”
Does he actually think I need convincing? Despite the part of me that worries this will only make things harder, there’s really no question in my mind that I’ll be joining him in his bed tonight. There’s no way I’m strong enough to walk away willingly from his kiss, from his touch.
So I reach down and take his hand, squeezing it between both of mine. “We’ll stay friends, right?”
Something darkens in his face for a moment, but then it clears so quickly I think maybe I imagined it. “Of course we’ll stay friends.”
I grin up at him, my heart fluttering as the prospect of what’s about to happen—again.
“Then what the hell are we waiting for?” I squeeze his hand once more, tightly as I can, before turning and leading the way back into the house. Back up to his bed.
Chapter Twelve
Reed
“Okay, what’s on the list today?” I ask, swinging my legs up onto the couch. Once I’m settled I lean forward so I can peer over her shoulder at the notebook on her lap. This position also gives me a really good view of her rack, but I’m determined not to think about that (even if she looks really freaking good in that t-shirt), because we’re just friends.
“I’ve found places in Virginia and North Carolina,” she says, pointing at the two new entries. “But nothing so far in Massachusetts. Which just doesn’t make any sense.”
“Maybe people in Massachusetts don’t really go for silly road-side attractions.” She turns to glare at me and I shake my head quickly. “I mean super-duper cool road-side attractions.”
That earns me a grin as she turns back to her list. “Every state has cool road-side attractions. It’s, like, an American tradition.”
“You’ll just have to research some more.”
She sighs, as if she doesn’t enjoy every minute of researching on the Internet for kooky places to stop. She’s been compiling a list for the past few weeks, ever since the tour started. According to Daisy, Paige is really into visiting places off the beaten track. Once I saw Paige’s list, I realized Daisy was understating it, just a little bit. So far, we’d been forced to see a house made out of beer cans, the world’s largest rubber band ball, and an entire garden made of milk bottles. It would have been more if we weren’t so damn busy. Paige and Daisy were talking about seeing the International Foam Dinosaur Museum on their own when we get to New York. We were booked solid with rehearsals and interviews that day—I was more disappointed than I would have thought, about missing it.
I guess it shouldn’t surprise me. There’s something about being with Paige that’s just enjoyable. Even though we’ve firmly agreed that our hook-ups ended in Mexico, I still find myself spending almost all of my free time with her. Whether it’s playing Halo on the bus, visiting ridiculous collections of what amounts to little more than junk along the highway, or watching crappy reality shows in the hotel, Paige just makes things fun. She’s silly and sweet, and strangely innocent for someone with so many piercings. There’s a brightness to her, and enthusiasm, that makes even a mundane task, like shopping for snacks, seem much more fun.
She’s basically the opposite of me—silly where I’m serious, optimistic where I’m pragmatic, free-spirited where I’m nose-to-the-grindstone. I feel strange when I’m with her, but not in a bad way. Just... different. Like I don’t have to try so hard. Like I don’t have to worry so much. Like I’m... balanced, or something.
And she’s totally hot.
Having slept with her twice now, I find I’m able to remember every little detail about her body. The way she sighs a little in the moment before our lips touch. The way she visibly shivers when I kiss her collarbone. The way she sounds when—
“Reed?”
I jump a little on the couch, realizing belatedly that I’ve been staring at her chest while my mind went over the details of our time together. I’m not supposed to be thinking like that. We both decided—just friends. It’s better this way, for everyone. Definitely.
So why can’t I stop thinking about it?
The door to the bus slams open and I have to stop myself from guiltily moving away from Paige. That would be too obvious. Besides, friends sit next to each other all the time, right?
“Hey, dude,” Daltrey says, stepping up onto the bus, Daisy right behind him. “Dad’s looking for you.”
I clamp my teeth down to keep from groaning. My dad has been bugging me about having a one-on-one for days. I know what he wants to talk about and I’m in no mood. Maybe I can pretend I never got the message.
“He was with some guys from the label,” Daltrey continues, giving me a sympathetic look. He understands as well as any of my brothers how shitty this conversation is going to be. I sigh, standing. It’s one thing to avoid my dad, another thing entirely to flake out on label execs.
“Guess I’d better go, then.”
Paige shoots me a look I can’t quite read—disappointed? But then Daisy and Daltrey, realizing what she’s holding, converge on the couch, blocking my view of her.
“Is that the list?” Daisy asks, trying to sound nonchalant.
“It is,” Paige says.
“Cool.” Daltrey does an even worse job of sounding disinterested. Just like me, Daisy and my brothers have totally fallen under the Paige spell of highway exploring.
Feeling unreasonably pissed off that I can’t sit and chill with them, discussing the best plan for hitting as many of the sites as possible, I slam out of the bus and go off in search of my father.
I find him inside the venue, showing two men in sleek suits the dressing room. “Ah, Reed,” he says, catching sight of me hovering in the doorway. “We were waiting for you. Come in, son.”
The two men beam at me in that smarmy way I’ve come to associate with the label guys. I sigh and step into the room, shutting the door behind me, eager to get this over.
It was just what I thought. A lecture, disguised as a friendly chat, about how important image was to the success of our band. I understood the concept perfectly—it wasn’t like I was new at this or anything. But I stood firm on my decision—I wasn’t dating—pretend or otherwise—Sienna just to look good in the press.
“Besides,” I had pointed out, exasperatedly, “she wouldn’t want me back. She threw a god damn bowl at my head.”
My father had glared at me for the curse but the PR specialists from the label merely shared a cautious look. “Actually, Reed, we’ve been in touch with her people. We have reason to believe she’d be amenable to the agreement.”
Amenable to the agreement, I think as I stomp toward the green room for practice. How fucking romantic.
Of course, they hadn’t let me leave before they dropped the real concern on me. Cash.
I shake my head as I arrive in the green room, pleased to see I’m the first to arrive. I’m not in the mood to make small talk with anyone, especially Cash.
It’s not his fault, I know. Well, it is, but not entirely. And he’s certainly paying for it. After the dive shop girl’s story hit the tabloids, half a dozen girls came forward. Some of them claimed Cash had harassed them, pressured them into going farther than they wanted, while others simply spilled salacious details about their one night with the rock star. He’d endured four straight weeks of tabloid bullshit. And the fallout hadn’t stoppe
d at his reputation—several of the girls had helpfully supplied pictures of their time rubbing shoulders with the band back stage or on the bus. Some media personalities had gotten a huge kick out of pointing out that Lennon and Daltrey were underage while clearly drinking alcohol.
To say that the tour had gotten off to a rough start was an understatement.
Of course, I understood their implications perfectly when they brought up the Cash situation. I could earn us some easy good will by presenting myself as a devoted boyfriend to America’s Sweetheart. People liked their rock stars a little naughty but they also liked a reformed bad boy. A good romance. And Sienna and I fit that bill.
“Hey, bro, how was the meeting?”
I scowl at Daltrey as he strolls in. “Oh, fantastic. We held hands and sang campfire songs.”
He takes the seat next to me. “Sorry, man. I know how rough that is.”
I remind myself that Daltrey went through much worse than this after his arrest last year. But he also got the girl in the end—the one he wanted, not some farce his own father was trying to pawn off on him.
Cash has the decency not to make eye-contact when he enters the room with Lennon, and I figure my brothers know exactly what was discussed at the meeting. “Let’s get this over with,” Lennon says. “We’re barely two weeks in and I’m already sick of looking at your ugly faces.”
We rehearse for a good two hours without a break. While we could play most of the stuff from the last album in our sleep, we’re not nearly as comfortable with the new songs and I feel like our performances have shown it. Daltrey argues that the fans scream too loud to really tell the difference, but I refuse to entertain that line of thinking.
“We set the standard for ourselves,” I remind them. “And we’d better fucking set it high.”
I’m grateful for the grueling session—as is often the case with playing, my mind clears the moment my hands touch my drumsticks. Music is the best and cheapest therapy I know of, and by the time we’re done I’m feeling much better, if pretty worn out.
My brothers and I make our way to the dressing room to clean up a little before heading back to the hotel. We have a pretty easy night and I’m already thinking about seeing if Paige wants to chill out and watch a movie. Or maybe actually get out of the hotel for a while. I bet she could find some ridiculous themed restaurant for us to try.
I’m grinning at the thought when I step into the dressing room and it takes me a minute to realize what I’m looking at. Sitting on the couch in the middle of the room, in the very spot where I’d talked to the label guys a few hours ago, sits Sienna Matthews.
“Holy shit,” Cash mutters at my side.
“Sienna?” My voice sounds clumsy and stupid to my own ears.
“Hello, Reed.” She doesn’t say a word to my brothers, who are all looking back and forth between the two of us as if they can’t figure out what to do. They seem to be as surprised by her appearance as I am.
“Uh, we’ll give you guys some privacy,” Daltrey says uncertainly. “See you back at the hotel?”
I nod, barely comprehending him, and they back out of the room, Cash muttering another curse under his breath as they go.
“Reed?” she asks when I still don’t say anything. I can’t help it—I feel like I’m dreaming—why in the hell else would Sienna Matthews be standing in my dressing room in Buffalo? I stare at her, actually rubbing my eyes like I’m a cartoon character or something, willing the scene in front of me to disappear.
“Can we talk?” She’s still sitting there, as natural as if she owns the place, so I must not be dreaming after all.
“What are you doing here?” I know I sound rude, but I’m too taken aback by her unexpected presence to care.
Her eyes narrow. “I came to talk to you, Reed.”
“Why?”
Her face seems to crumple suddenly, her usual sophisticated facade cracking. Is she... is she going to cry? “You can’t even stand to talk to me?” she whispers.
“Well, the last time I saw you, you threw a glass bowl at me and told me you’d been cheating on me for months. So, no, I’m not really in a chatting mood.”
“Because you were dumping me,” she cries, and tears actually spill out of her eyes, shocking me even more than the sight of her in the first place. “I didn’t mean it, I was just hurt!”
“I’m sorry, Sienna.” I cross the distance between us and she stands, falling against me. Bewildered, I bring my arms up around her and she clings to me in a way she rarely did when we were dating. I can’t, for the life of me, figure out what’s going on. What is she doing here? Why is she so upset? It isn’t like her, to display any kind of vulnerability. When we first started dating it was the thing that most attracted me to her—that steely strength. That self-reliance. I emulated her attitude, her independence. She was a living embodiment of the image I wished to give off to the world.
But now her shoulders are shaking and I’m pretty sure that little gasping noise I hear is actually the sound of her sobbing.
“Hey, it’s okay,” I tell her, at a loss. “Everything is going to be fine, Sienna. Just relax.”
She takes a huge shuddering breath and pulls away, wiping at her eyes. “I’m sorry. I just... I’m emotional right now. And you looking at me like I’m the last thing in the world you want to see, just... set me off, I guess.”
“You don’t have to apologize.” I stick my hands in my pockets, unsure of what to do with them. “I’m sorry I was so rude. You just... you caught me off guard, that’s all. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I know I should have called. I just thought maybe if we could see each other, if we could actually talk, in person...”
“What? What is it that you want?”
She straightens her shoulders and looks at me, full in the eyes. “I want you back.”
I stare at her for what must be a full thirty seconds. I wouldn’t have been more shocked if she told me she was looking forward to spending some quality time with Cash. Did she seriously come here to try to get me back? The very idea that she would do something so... vulnerable, is mind blowing. Sienna doesn’t ask for things, she simply takes and gets what she wants. To put herself in a position where she’s relying on someone else—I can’t quite comprehend it.
“Why?” I blurt out.
Sienna’s eyes narrow. “Why do you think?”
“I have no idea. Seriously. I have no clue why you would want me back. You never seemed to care too much about me when we were dating.” She looks like she’s about to argue so I raise my hands. “I’m not saying our break-up was your fault. We were wrong for each other. We’re still wrong for each other.”
“I disagree. I think we made a great couple. Look at all the press we got—”
I close my eyes, remembering what the PR guys had said about talking with her people. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? The PR stunt they want me to go along with.”
“No, Reed.” She reaches out to place a hand on my arm. I stare down at it, feeling strangely numb. It’s so surreal, her being here, with her perfectly manicured nails, trying to convince me to date her for the good press.
I yank my arm back, suddenly sick to death of my life. I just want to play music with my brothers—I don’t want to deal with the media, with Cash’s reputation, with label execs, with my father. Why can’t it be that simple? “I’m not going to pretend to date you just because it might help our careers,” I snap, turning away. “I’m sorry, Sienna. Not interested. Find some other celebrity to go along with your farce.”
I’m half way to the door before she speaks again. “I’m pregnant.”
It feels like the very air around me stills at her words. My mind is immediately blank, my heart strangely still. Did she just say...
I turn back to her and I know, in that instant, she’s telling the truth. She looks absolutely terrified, in a way I never thought was possible for her. Her perfectly made up blue eyes are wide and pleading. “You’re
pregnant?”
She nods, finally breaking eye contact to look away. Her jaw tightens, as if she’s fighting the vulnerability connected with having to admit this. “Not very far along. Five weeks, I’d guess.”
Five weeks. Five weeks ago I had been with her in Los Angeles.
The room seems to tilt crazily around me and I have to grab the back of the couch to keep steady. She’s pregnant. She’s pregnant with my baby. What in the hell am I supposed to do now?
“I understand that you don’t love me anymore.” Her voice is strangely thick, as if fighting off more tears. “Maybe you never did. But I... I thought you should know, before you made up your mind.” She meets my gaze, her eyes once again pleading and scared. “I thought it was something you should know.”
My mind is whirling, her words spinning around and around as I try to make sense of this, figure out what I’m supposed to do, how I’m supposed to respond. My first instinct is to run, to literally sprint right the hell out of here and get as far away as possible. Pretend I never heard, pretend it isn’t true.
But I’ve never been one to run away.
Instead, I walk calmly back to the couch, pulling on her hand until she sits with me. I release her hand, taking a deep breath as I run my hands through my hair. “Okay. Let’s talk about this.”
She looks so relieved it makes my heart clench, enough to cut through the panic and dread I’m feeling. She must be just as scared—more scared, even. She’s the one who would actually have the baby. The one whose career could totally change over this.
“What do you want to do?” I ask. “Do you want to have it?”
She stares down at her feet. “I... I’m not sure. I think so.”
I suck in a breath, trying to keep it together. “Okay. Then, I’m here for whatever you need. I’ll support you however you need, Si.”
She looks up at me, the old annoyance a glimmer in her eyes. “I need you to be with me. I need to not be alone.”
Release: A Ransom Novel Page 13
