I stopped in my tracks and turned slowly. “Really? I didn’t know you had tickets.”
He gave me a conceited look. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with, do you? I’m a pretty big deal.” Then he broke into a grin to show me he was teasing. “I told Andy to invite Kate, too. You know, I think they’re getting serious.”
I smiled and continued on my way down the hall, excited for the night to come. Even better news came when Amos appeared before we left the apartment. Never thought I’d equate Amos and good news, but he showed us on his iPad the buzz since the concert. The YouTube video of the new song had blown up, it was the hot topic on blogs and Twitter, and media dubbed it “The Breakdown Dance.” I beamed the entire night on our pseudo double date.
The next three days in Nashville were busy with our passing schedules. Jackson had meetings and interviews set up, along with a last editing session for the “Dance Like No One’s Watching” video before it aired in two days. The girls and I went to studios to give interviews and do live performances of The Breakdown Dance. I wound up being the unofficial spokesperson as the choreographer. Amos also had us record a how-to video to teach novices how to do the line dance so he could post it on Jack’s website and YouTube. I fielded calls from my family, Ashley, and Cara during the week. They all had seen the buzz.
We left the apartment for good on Thursday morning and returned to our home on wheels.
“Wow,” I said as we entered and began to unpack our bags. “I can’t believe it, but I’m actually happy to be back in our little home. I missed it.”
Gloria had stocked groceries, cleaned, and done laundry while we were gone. Jack’s Jeep and the other car hitched to the buses again and we were all on our way by 10:00 a.m.
“You know what’s funny? Talking to so many huge stars over the week, I learned many of them ride their bus from town to town, but then stay in fancy hotels at night in each city.” I brought it up out of curiosity as I set up my computer to get back to my routine.
“Yeah, the big stars usually do. When you’re starting out, you stay on your damn bus. Then you get all big-britches and have money, you suddenly need a king size bed for one night and five people to carry your overnight necessities up to your room that you’ll be in for like five minutes. Stupid if you ask me. I got what I need right here. Plus, it fosters a community with the whole tour group when we all camp together and actually hang out.”
I showed approval with a nod of my head. “I totally agree, Mr. Morgan. I’m sure glad you don’t have those big-britches.”
He glared at me as I laughed, and then he snipped, “It’s your word to play, by the way, so quit stalling.”
I saluted him with sarcasm and picked up my phone to play a word, managing “Jolt” for thirty-four points. I was ahead, but not by much, and it was winding down as the letters dwindled.
The drive to Memphis was a quiet three-and-a-half-hour trip and would be a quick set up. The crew left hours earlier than we did and were already assembling the stage at the FedEx Forum. We played one show here and then on to Jackson, Mississippi for a Saturday show and Biloxi for a Monday show.
Rehearsal felt different to me now that worried less about Jackson’s safety with his two feet on the ground. However, I had more worries about getting myself ready and actually being a small part of the show. The new song was in the lineup about halfway through. It helped to build anticipation, because the fans were dying for it. I gave Jackson his usual good luck kiss on the cheek backstage, only now I was bedazzled in a red tank top, skinny jeans, and cowboy boots.
He performed a slower song again before our number, so the girls got one of their breaks off stage, and we all entered back on together. The crowd had heard the buzz, and they were ready to dance along with us, giving us confidence to have fun. We vowed to change our breakout parts at each show to keep it fresh. We kept the booty shake for our last one and saved time to put Jackson on the spot again.
He chuckled into the microphone this time, “Damn, you all aren’t going to let me out of this are you? Here goes …”
This time he “raised the roof,” and the crowd—and I—laughed and swooned at the same time. We exited the stage to thundering applause and hugged backstage once again. The second half of this tour was a whole new ballgame.
Jackson surprised me by saying he wanted to go the after-lounge party on the gray bus that night. He asked me repeatedly to come along.
“Um, I don’t know … it’s been a long time since I’ve been to one.” I referenced the horrible night cautiously. “What’s got you so interested tonight?”
He shrugged. “I feel good, got energy tonight, and it seems like a good vibe. I told you I may feel like going sometimes and others I may just crash. It’s a huge change for me, since the after-party was every single night before. Why don’t you come for a little bit?”
I debated in my mind as we exited the arena on the path to the buses, Joe and Johnny at our sides. I glanced around at the group of people heading to the bus and heard the music begin to blast. “I—well, maybe for one drink, but we need therapy tomorrow, so I won’t stay late. You may need a break from me anyway.”
He tugged my arm toward the steps. “Yeah, that’s why I asked you to come with me ten times. I’m glad you agreed; it wouldn’t feel right without you.”
The reality of the party was not nearly as bad as what I envisioned in my head or remembered from the past. It was packed, and there were definitely some trampy girls hanging around. Ric was making out with one in the corner, but everyone else was relaxing and talking, some playing a drinking game called Quarters, and a few were dancing. I was sure some nights got crazier, but I was also glad to know not every party was out-of-control debauchery.
I stayed almost true to my word and only had two drinks before heading to bed. I heard Jackson come in about twenty minutes after me and relief washed over me to have him back. I heard him sigh when he found I had returned to my bunk, instead of keeping his bedroom as he’d insisted. Luckily, he decided not to wake and move me.
The three-and-half-hour drive into Mississippi the next day gave us plenty of time for a long therapy session. We hadn’t left until after lunchtime and would make it by dinner, so it had been a relaxed day.
He cleared his throat while I worked the stubborn tightness out of his calf muscles and checked his range of motion measurements. “I thought you’d agreed to take my room from now on.”
“It was chivalrous of you to offer, Jackson, but I’m much better now, and it would be a pain to move all our stuff around. I’m fine in my bunk, I swear. Did you stay very long last night?” I asked innocently, even though I knew the answer
“Nah. It was fun to go for a few drinks, but I was ready to crash. It wasn’t as interesting after you were gone, anyway.”
We were quiet with an awkward silence while I finished his joint mobilizations. He finally picked up his phone and began to play around with it until I heard him let out a whoop.
“Hell, yes! Ha-ha! Looks like you owe me a massage, Dr. Travis. Just got the final score on our game, and I beat you by nine whole points this time.”
I groaned and gave him the resistance band to start working his ankle. “Okay, sore winner, when do you want to collect?”
“Tonight before we turn in maybe? And, there’s no such thing, just sore losers.” He stuck his tongue out at me, and I returned the gesture.
The evening flew by after we arrived at our RV park and had dinner. Now that it was June, the sun stayed out longer, so we were able to play a few rounds of Cornhole after the meal. As it got darker, the guys built a blazing campfire, and we sat around listening to Fitch and Charlie strumming guitars and making up funny words to songs. Finally, I glanced up to see Jackson staring at me from across the flames, and I sensed he was itching to leave.
I stood up and yawned, even thought it was only ten o’clock, and announced I was heading back to the bus. He made up his excuse a moment later and came into our home
as I exited the bathroom in my silky pajama bottoms and a matching camisole. He quickly hit the bathroom as well and then came out to meet me at the couch with just plaid pajama bottoms slung low on his hips. His torso was like a work of art I would soon get to mold in my hands.
I blushed at my own thoughts, and he caught me. “What would I give to read your mind?” he mused while he sat down in front of me, where I perched crossed legged on the sofa.
I dabbed a small amount of my massage cream onto my fingers and began to work from his neck, slowly migrating from muscle to muscle to reach his shoulders and scapulae. Butterflies formed each time he let a sigh or soft moan escape his lips as the muscles softened under my hands. This was ridiculous torture. Why were we doing this? Did he want to be tortured too?
I was totally lost in my thoughts, and his delicious smell, when he spoke.
“I guess we never set a time limit, but you’re going on forty minutes. I think it’s your turn now.”
“I don’t get a turn, remember, Mr. Let’s Make a Deal?” I smirked as he sat next to me on the couch and then literally pushed me off so I landed with my butt on the floor.
“Must be your lucky day, then.” He smirked back as he settled his legs on either side of me and began to mimic my techniques around my shoulders and neck.
I was instantly glad I’d opted to wear the camisole shirt and leaned back into his strong hands.
“Okay.” I sighed. “You won’t hear me complain.”
He made me feel loose and warm all over for several minutes and then my long ponytail was getting in the way, so he tugged it gently to one side to expose my neck. I jumped and gasped by shear subconscious reaction, clenching my hands into fists.
“What’s wrong?” He jumped, too, and grabbed my shoulders with a firm grip.
Luckily, he couldn’t see my face as I turned crimson and my jaw clenched. “It was nothing. I just, for a second there, shit …Travis pulled my hair and really hurt me. I guess it was a weird reaction. I’m so sorry. You didn’t hurt me at all; it was a memory I guess.”
“You don’t need to be sorry. I should watch what I do … and I should have killed that asshole.”
I pivoted on the floor to face him and gripped his fisted hand. “Jackson, please, you couldn’t have known. I didn’t even know that would trigger me. Honestly, I think it might be good for me … to have someone else touch my hair and my neck in a different way, so I can associate it with good things.” Wow, that sounded like good psychology BS. I knew I wanted to remember his hands, not Travis’s.
He took a ragged breath. “Are you sure?”
I nodded. “I don’t want to be a jumpy head case, I want to heal.”
I turned back around to give him access again. He was cautious as he softly touched the same areas, and then began to venture around my neck more. He gently moved my hair to the side, and I took a calming breath. He combed through the mass of waves a few times and then moved my hair slowly to the other side. I felt my previous anxiety slip away as he pulled the elastic tie out of my hair and ran his fingers through it several times from the top of my head, down past my shoulder blades. I sighed and slumped back, totally relaxed now. He was gentle as he twisted my thick hair into a spiral and flipped it back across my right shoulder … and then, I felt something amazing on my exposed left shoulder. His lips.
Chapter 28
I stiffened for a split second and then relaxed again. He moved his lips slowly up across my shoulder and then up my neck to just below my ear while I felt every hair on my arms and neck stand, and then he worked his way back down. I felt my ponytail move from the right to the left as he repeated his attention to my right side, making me tingle from head to toe.
When he retraced up to my ear for the second time, he whispered, “Lexie.”
The only reply I could muster was a long sigh. The next thing I knew, he grabbed me under my arms and hoisted me off the floor and onto my back next to him on the couch. He leaned over me with an arm on each side and hooded eyes.
“Lexie,” he repeated, basically a growl this time.
My eyes widened as he slowly leaned toward me, his eyes trapping mine so I couldn’t look away. He paused for a split second before his lips reached mine, and I reacted with a sudden turn of my head to the side. I closed my eyelids and grimaced. I let it go too far and now I had rejected him at the last second.
“Damn, what was I thinking?” He sat up and distanced us by one cushion as I quickly sat up, too. “I’m sorry. I don’t know …” He clenched his hands and looked up the ceiling in frustration. I sat still, biting my lip, unsure of what just happened and why.
He suddenly stood and raked his hands through his hair. “You know what? I’m not f-ing sorry. Not at all. Why should I be sorry? I want to kiss you. Hell, I way more than want to kiss you. What’s stopping us?” He threw his hands in the air and continued to rant. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel what’s between us. Don’t say it, ’cause you’d be lying. I don’t understand why we’re not together, and I’m not sorry for wanting it to happen.” He crossed his arms now after pacing across the room and facing me, waiting for an answer.
My mouth dropped open, and I fumbled for words, finally managing, “What do you mean, Why aren’t we together? Where do I start? Or rather, when did it officially stop? I’d say with your eloquent letter telling me you agreed it was better for us to be apart!”
He raked his hair again. “My letter? Are you serious? That was such a joke. I wrote it because I knew it was what you needed to hear. You were acting so funny, I was afraid you were going to leave the tour because it was awkward. I was trying to make peace—totally fake peace.”
I buried my face in my hands in an attempt to hide the shock on my face. All this time, I’d thought he closed the chapter and book on us because of that letter. I knew. I saw the signs, but I didn’t let myself believe they could mean anything, because if I let that door open, I’d be vulnerable again.
“I don’t know what to say,” I whispered after a moment.
“Shit, Lexie, you really thought I wasn’t interested anymore? How many signals can a guy give you? This is crazy. All the reasons you had for shutting me down the first time—don’t you think they’ve changed?”
I chewed on my lip but managed to mutter, “I can’t even think straight right now.”
“Then don’t, dammit. Quit analyzing everything. Just do what feels so ridiculously right.” He paced several steps but stopped to watch my bewildered face for a moment. He finally sighed at my silence. “Nevermind. You take all the sweet time you need. I’m gonna get some air. See you in the morning.” He grabbed a flashlight off the hook by the door and let it slam behind him as he left. The clock read midnight.
I eventually recovered enough of my senses to move to my bed and bury myself under the covers. My skin was still singing from his touch, butterflies filled my stomach, and my head pounded in an overpowering combination.
Unfortunately, the next day brought no clarity. I felt like tossing a coin. Heads means you go for it with Jackson; tails means you put it to rest forever. Instead, I called Ashley.
While everyone else slept, I walked to the park office and sat in a rocking chair with my phone. Naturally, she was working the weekend shift, so I left a total of three voicemails to get the story of my current dilemma out. A power walk sounded good, or maybe like a good way to avoid the bus, so I worked up a decent sweat and killed an hour before reluctantly returning. Most people were eating brunch and talking about when we’d leave for the show at Jackson’s Mississippi Coliseum. As much as I dreaded facing Jack, I wanted to avoid small talk with my friends even more, fearing the drama was written all over my face.
I took a deep breath and walked into the bus, finding Jack right there on the couch with his guitar in his lap, furiously writing in his green notebook. He didn’t even look up from his zone, so I busied myself with a bottle of water and a bagel until he finally stopped scribbling.
I knew we h
ad to talk, as much as I wanted to avoid it, so I resigned to face him from a barstool and willed him to start the conversation. He clutched the notebook in his hand, and I hated the thought of what song could be on his mind to write about after last night. Probably something titled “What the Hell Is Wrong with You, Crazy Woman?” I deserved it.
He eyed my workout clothes and water. “Let me guess, you wanted to get some brilliant advice from Ashley and disguised it as an innocent walk?”
I was about to blurt out a total lie when I caught his eyes crinkle with humor and realized he was teasing me. Damn if he didn’t know me too well.
I let out a guilty smile. “If only she wasn’t working this weekend, maybe she could have answered the phone and solved all our problems with her infinite wisdom.”
He smiled softly. I was sure he’d be angry, but he never ceased to amaze me.
He cleared his throat, and his gaze became intense. “I think I figured out a way around our issue.” He paused a moment while I rubbed my lips together. “I think you want the same thing I do. I think you’re too stubborn to admit it and can’t find a way to make yourself take the jump. So, I think we need another bet. I bet you another word game, and if I win, I get to kiss the hell out of you. You can surely think of something you want to win bad enough that you’ll take the bet. Anything.”
I had to look away from his daring eyes, afraid all my emotions were on my face. Of course, he was right. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to go back in time and not screw it up and have him not screw it up after me. I wanted to pretend dating a huge celebrity music star was something I could pull off and that I deserved such an amazing man. Minutes must have gone by while I mulled it over, wringing my hands in deliberation. I nearly said, “Forget the bet; let’s just kiss now,” but when I looked back to him, the green notebook caught my eye. The jackpot of all jackpots. I wanted to read that book since day one.
Muse: ( Groupie Volume 2 of 2) Page 17