Devin shook his head. “Not everything needs to be exploited.”
“But—”
“I said no.” He looked at Boomer. “You had a request earlier. What was it?”
“‘Friends in Low Places.’”
“I resemble that one. At least tonight.”
Boos rang out.
By the time he reached the chorus, it’d turned into a sing-along. The next tune was also a drinking song that everyone chimed in on. Liberty hated to call a halt to the fun, but she could tell the smoke was really bothering him.
As soon as she stood, she felt all eyes on her. “Go ahead and boo me, but I’m taking Devin to the bus.”
No one booed, but several people protested.
Then Devin was on his feet. “Cut her some slack. She’s only doin’ her job.”
A roadie said something that made everyone laugh.
Check wandered over and took the guitar. “Thanks for playing tonight.”
“My pleasure.” Then Devin said, “Good night,” to everyone before he turned and they started the long walk toward the bus.
Liberty broke the easy silence between them. “Thanks for pestering me to sit by the campfire. Fresh air did do me some good.”
“The last time I just chilled out beneath a starry sky was last spring. A year ago, I was home for a week during branding. Hank and Abe Lawson put me to work. So did Kyle and Celia Gilchrist. I usually help Bran out, since they all brand right around the same time, but I had to get back to Nashville and missed it.”
“I was there that year. First and last time.” She shivered. “Not my idea of fun. I conveniently had to work this year.”
“I actually enjoy it. Seems to be the only time I can really catch up with everyone.”
“I mostly stayed in the house and took care of Jake.”
“You’re close to Harper.”
“Very. Are you close to your older sister?”
A beat of tense silence passed. “Not really. It’s not like we had a falling-out or anything.”
“That’s too bad, especially since you both lost Michelle. I’d think that loss would’ve brought you closer.” When she realized how judgy that sounded, she quickly said, “Because I lived apart from Harper for so long, it’s good to be within driving distance. It surprised me she’s not the way I remembered her.”
“Like what?”
“I always thought we were polar opposites. I was tough; she wasn’t.” She shook her head. “My beauty queen sister with the soft heart and the soft voice . . . I thought she’d have a soft will. But nope. She’s made of strong stuff.”
He bumped her with his shoulder. “Must run in the family.”
“I am a marshmallow around her boys. I love how she is around them.”
“How’s that?”
“Happy. She’s exactly where she’s meant to be. For the longest time, neither of us thought we’d ever have that. A place of our own.”
The ground crunched beneath his boots. “Do you have it?”
“I’m working on it.” And you’re helping me achieve that goal, even though you don’t know it. “How’d we get on this subject?”
“Does it matter? I like talkin’ to you. We were on track to getting to know each other before the truck stop—”
“I’ve moved on from that incident,” she said in a rush.
Devin slowed their pace. “Personally? Or professionally?”
“Both.” What was it about the dark that made it easier to talk? “I just didn’t . . . don’t know how to bring it up.”
“How about . . . Devin, I miss our witty banter on the long bus rides. Or more accurately: Devin, I miss insulting you at every opportunity.”
She snorted. “You need someone to insult you to keep your head from swelling like a Macy’s parade balloon.”
He reached for her hand and squeezed. “See? I missed this. Give me another one.”
“Believe it or not, I don’t have an arsenal of insults.”
“Damn. ’Cause some of them were really creative. I heard you muttering under your breath last week, callin’ me an arrogant asshat.”
Liberty laughed softly.
“Maybe you’ve built up a store of compliments for me?” he asked hopefully.
“Not any of those either.”
“Double damn.” He swung their joined hands. “So I’ll give you one. Thanks for takin’ bullets for me today.”
“I hope paintballs are the only kind I’ll ever have to take.”
“Me too. But I am gonna drop a note in the suggestion box about not using red paint. Because that fucked me up. Bad.”
Her too, but she wouldn’t admit that to him.
Once they were locked in the bus, she said, “I’m tired. Think I’ll call it a night.”
Devin looked as if he didn’t believe her.
“What?”
“I dunno. Five minutes ago you seemed . . . restless.”
She wouldn’t admit to him, either, that being so close to him had her all kinds of revved up. But her usual ways of dealing—booze, sex, grappling—weren’t feasible, so she’d go with option four: playing Call of Duty for a few hours. She faked a yawn. “Sorry. I’m fading fast. I’ll see you in the morning.” Halfway down the hall, she stopped. “Don’t forget to—”
“Leave my door unlocked. Yeah, I know the drill by now.”
Liberty grabbed her pajamas and changed in the bathroom. By the time she finished brushing her teeth, flossing and coating herself with lotion, Devin had turned off all the lights in the front of the bus. She listened at his door, expecting to hear the muted sounds of his TV or guitar, but it was quiet.
Her excitement level was still high when she crawled in her bunk and cracked open her laptop. While she was waiting for the connection, she fluffed her pillows and slipped on her noise-canceling headphones.
Cracking her knuckles might’ve been a little over-the-top, but she kept that superstition before she jumped into the fray.
Ready, set, go.
It was like coming home. Kicking ass and stomping over the dead corpses on her way to empty a rebel safe house. She’d cleared the space of civilians and had tossed in a grenade to keep the rebel forces from returning to reclaim the structure when Devin ripped back the curtain.
She released a small scream and tore off her headphones. “What the hell?”
He got right in her face. “Just gonna crash, huh?” He pointed at her laptop screen. “Is that after you pulverize an entire city with your stockpile of weapons?”
Liberty glared at him and hit pause. “You play?”
“Not very often.” He squinted at the screen. “Holy shit. What level are you on?”
“Veteran.”
Then, without warning or even asking, he bullied his way into her private space. “Scoot over.”
“Hey!”
“What? I wanna watch the expert soldier do her thing.”
“Fine.” She moved closer to the wall. But they were still shoulder to shoulder. She hip-checked him. “Crowding me much?”
“I’m a big guy. I take up a lot of room.”
“Good thing you don’t have to sleep in this bunk.”
“Quit complaining. This is a helluva lot bigger than some of the bunks I’ve slept in over the years.”
“It’s definitely not made for two people.”
She realized her mistake when he crowded her even more. “It can be pretty comfy for two; it’s just someone’s always gotta be on top.”
Rather than get sucked into his smoldering eyes, she refocused on her laptop screen. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”
Devin chuckled. “Without apology, darlin’. Want me to show you so you’re in the know too?”
Yes. Please. “No. Now hush. You’re breaking my concentration.”
As the game progressed, Liberty realized Devin was hell on her ability to focus. The man was just so solid. And warm. He smelled good too, like sun-warmed pine and clean cotton. And s
ex.
Okay, maybe not sex, but she couldn’t be this close to him and not have everything remind her of sex. With him.
He didn’t ask a bunch of questions. He seemed content to watch her play. After about an hour, her neck hurt and her eyes started to droop. It’d be easy to rest the side of her face against his biceps and doze off.
“You okay?” he murmured into her hair.
“Getting sleepy.”
“Me too. I think it’s time to hit the hay.”
She smiled against his arm. Except . . . When had she cuddled up to him? Why hadn’t he moved her?
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Devin’s rough-skinned fingers slipped beneath her chin, lifting her gaze to his. “Tell me.”
“I haven’t heard the phrase ‘hit the hay’ for a long time.”
“What can I say? I’m a bumpkin.”
That’s when those intent blue eyes sucked her in. “You’re too polished to ever be a bumpkin, especially in public.”
“But in private?”
“In private . . . you’re just you.”
“You say that like it’s a good thing.”
“It is. Like tonight at the campfire. Another artist would’ve played his own music, but you covered everyone’s but your own. And when Crash suggested you add the cover tune in your show? You said no.”
“You seem surprised that not everything I do is calculated to sell more records or concert tickets or charm the pants off the female fans.”
Stung, Liberty jerked her chin out of his hold. “Forget I said anything.” She logged off the game and powered down her laptop, ignoring him completely even when she could feel his breath stirring her hair.
“It seems whenever you say something nice to me, I don’t believe it. Then I open my mouth and insert my foot. Bein’ antagonistic with you isn’t my intent.”
She sighed. “I know. I’m at fault too. I just don’t know what to do with this.”
“That makes two of us.” He scratched his head. “The logical part of my brain says it was better when we had no personal interaction. I don’t wanna listen to logic this time, Liberty. And I don’t think you want to either.”
How hard would it be to redefine the parameters of this relationship? Scary to think it wouldn’t be hard at all. That they’d been circling each other the last three weeks. Waiting for the right moment to make the change. “Look, it’s late. We can have this discussion another time, okay?”
Devin scooted to the edge of the bed and ducked out of her bunk. “I’ll let it go for now, but we can’t keep ignoring it.” He placed his right hand on the curve of her jaw and swept his thumb over her cheekbone. “Sweet dreams, sweetheart. Thanks for today. It’s been one of the better days in recent memory.”
Not fair the man could be so damn sweet that he made her ache. She shut the curtains and curled up in her bunk. But sleep was a long time coming.
Chapter Eleven
Devin was awakened by a loud scream. Immediately, he scrambled out of bed.
He’d left his bedroom door ajar and paused inside the doorframe instead of racing out—per his bodyguard’s request.
Then he heard it again. A lower-pitched scream this time, followed by a loud “No, no, no! Please, no!”
Thumping sounds echoed back to him, and he realized Liberty was thrashing around in her bunk, not wrestling with an assailant.
Devin ripped open the privacy curtain, hoping like hell Liberty wouldn’t shoot him on sight.
The illuminated strip running the length of the hallway allowed enough light for him to see she wasn’t armed. But she was rolling around and kicking, bucking her body as if someone—or something—was holding her down.
She let loose a pain-filled cry that chilled him to the bone. That’s when he knew he had to wake her—regardless of whether she came out swinging.
He leaned in, placing one hand on her forehead while at the same time clasping her left hand in his other hand. “Liberty. It’s me, Devin. You need to wake up.”
She thrashed and violently moved her head back and forth, trying to shake off his hand, moaning, “No, no, no.”
As his eyes moved over her, he noticed her face was damp—from sweat or tears? His gaze moved lower, and he saw her bottom lip was swollen and bloody from where her teeth had dug into the tender flesh.
Jesus. What images had her sleeping mind conjured to elicit this reaction? He squeezed her hand and tried again. “Liberty. Wake up. It’s okay. You’re safe.”
Her body went scarily still. Then she turned her head and her eyes opened.
His stomach pitched at the look of horror in those silvery depths. “Hey.” He smoothed her hair back from her clammy forehead.
Liberty blinked, and panic crossed her face. “Devin? What’re you . . . ?” She struggled to sit up. “What happened?”
“Nothin’ happened. Besides you havin’ a nightmare. I heard you and came to see if you were all right.” He tucked a hank of hair behind her ear. “No need to get up.”
“Move.” She dodged his touch and swung her legs—her shapely bare legs over the edge of the bunk.
That’s when Devin noticed she slept in a pair of very short running shorts and a baggy US Army Rangers T-shirt. Before he could lighten the mood, since she was clearly agitated, she snapped, “I’m fine.”
“Liberty—”
“I said I was fine.” She stared at her feet. “Go back to bed.”
Devin stood and headed toward the kitchen. After snagging a bottle of water, he returned to her, twisted off the plastic cap and handed it to her. “Here.”
“Don’t treat me like a child. Just . . . leave me alone.”
“Like hell.” He wrapped his hand around her jaw and tipped her head back, but the stubborn damn woman kept her eyes closed. Frustrated, he grabbed her hand and curled her fingers around the bottle. “Drink it.”
She shook so hard she spilled water all over her legs and her shirt. She took two sips—he had no idea how she managed to swallow anything through her clenched jaw.
Goddammit, the woman was hanging on by a thread. He snagged the bottle from her shaking hand and screwed on the cap. Threading his fingers through hers, he pulled her to her feet. “Enough. You’re comin’ with me.” He towed her down the hallway.
“Devin—”
“Don’t argue.”
“But—”
“Shut. Up.” He stopped at the end of his bed and kicked the door shut. “Crawl in.”
Liberty didn’t move.
“Fine. Want to do it my way? Where I pick you up and throw you into my bed?”
She shook her head and crawled to the far side of the mattress.
Devin moved in behind her, dragging her body against his with his chest pressed to her back. Then he yanked the covers over them.
She gave a token protest until Devin said, “Suck it up. I’m not letting you go until you stop shaking.” He nuzzled the back of her head. “Relax. I’ve got you now.”
If anything, that caused her to tremble harder.
Devin just held on. He didn’t say a word. Not even when he felt her silent tears trickling down her face and dripping onto the sheet. Not even when the trembling abated, but she wiggled, trying to get free.
After a while, she settled. He had no idea how long they remained like that, body to body, each wrapped in unspoken thoughts.
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