[Off Track Records 01.0] Detour

by Kacey Shea

  I shake my head even though she can’t see. She’s trying to be nice. A good friend. “I’m not leaving the tour.”

  “But your father is dying, Lex. If we go to the press I’m sure I can—”

  “No. Absolutely not.” Scratch the good friend. She’s interested in the business angle; I should’ve known. I can’t count on anyone but myself.

  “Lexi. We need to discuss this.”

  “No, Amie. We really don’t. I made my position clear from the start. If you can’t handle it, I’ll find someone who can.” My fingers ache from how tightly they wrap around the phone.

  “I know. And as your friend I’m sympathetic, but as your agent I have to recommend we put together a press release. This is gonna go wide when he . . . when he passes. And someone’s going to make the connection, Lexi. If we can stay ahead of this, it would be best.”

  “Best for who? You? The label?”

  “It’d make getting you your own headlining tour a hell of a lot easier.”

  “That’s not how I want it. You know that.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it, I do. But would it be so bad? It’s not like it’s never gonna come out? The longer you wait, the bigger of a deal it’s gonna be.”

  “That’s not true. The press will hound me if they find out now. Ask me how I feel, how he’s doing, and how’s it gonna look when I answer? ’Cause honestly, I don’t care.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true. Even if you have a bad relationship, I’m sure you care.”

  I’m done arguing with Amie. She’s doesn’t get it. She’s not going to get it. The boisterous laughter and chatter from the guys as they board the bus perks my attention. “I don’t. Look, Amie. I need to go.”

  “We’ll talk about this soon.”

  No. We won’t. I end the call and toss my cell on the bed. It’s useless to argue with her, and tonight I don’t have it in me. I can’t believe my mother called her! The intrusion on my business and my career fuels my anger as I pull out a pair of shorts and a worn sweatshirt, laying them on the bed. I don’t want to ponder what’ll happen when everyone finds out who I am. Or rather, who my father is. Another way for him to ruin anything good in my life.

  A knock at the door startles me. “Hey Lex! We’re dining in. Come out if you’re hungry,” Sean calls through the door as the bus lurches forward.

  Food. Smack talk. Yeah, that’s what I need to put this crappy day behind me. My stomach rumbles in agreement. Dropping the towel, I pull on my favorite red satin cami and search through the drawers to find the matching panties. I know I had them. They weren’t sacrificed in the original ambush.

  The roar of laughter from the kitchen draws my gaze from the dresser drawers, and my teeth grate together.

  They wouldn’t dare.

  More laugher.

  They would, those fuckers. I yank on my shorts over my bare ass, and my feet carry me out to the idiots shoveling food into their jabbering mouths. My anger is a simmering flame but it fuels a wildfire when their silent gawking stares catch sight of my glare. My hands go to my hips and I drop my voice to a growl. “Okay, who did it?”

  I raise my eyebrow and tap my foot at their shocked expressions. That’s right, I’m not letting it slide this time. Not after everything that’s gone down in the last twenty-four hours. Being sick. Sleeping next to Trent. Wing Challenge. My guard is starting to drop around these guys, damn it. Dangerously so. They were conning me into believing they actually cared. But no, I’m just another joke to them. My jaw ticks but they still don’t say a damn word.

  “Real fucking funny, guys! But you can give them back to me now.” I hold out my hand and wait, studying each set of eyes to determine who will cave. Austin’s widen to unnatural proportions; Sean’s, too. Iz has a glassy look—he’s high and no help. But it’s Trent’s I settle on when I step forward. They’re the least innocent of the batch, and his nostrils flare before he takes a gulp of whatever was in his mouth.

  “What are you talking about, Lexi?” He tilts his chin, his gaze lowers a beat, and it’s then I realize they’re all gawking at my boobs, my nipples hard against the cool fabric of my thin top.

  “My panties!” I cross my arms across my breasts and shoot them all another glare before I stomp back to my room. “Never mind! Fucking assholes.”

  “Somebody must be closing in on her time of the month.”

  “Fuck you, Austin,” I shout, slam the door behind me, and bite down on my lip so hard my ring digs into the flesh. I want to kick something. I want to scream. I want my damn red panties. I sniffle as wetness pools in my eyes and I squeeze my lids shut because damn it, I don’t want to cry.

  A soft rap at the door causes my eyes to open. One tear slides down the right side of my face.

  “Lexi?” It’s Trent.

  “Just go away.” I have every intention of staying angry, but all the energy leaves my body with a few more tears.

  “Can I—” He clears his throat with a cough. “Can I please come in?”

  I should tell him no, to go away, to fuck off, but my hand betrays any good decision making and reaches for the lock. I twist it slowly, thinking of the giant body pillow waiting on the opposite side of this door. How, if I were different, I’d grab his arm and pull him inside, and make him sleep next to me again. Ask him to hold me until this stupid day is over and I find rest. Only I’m not different. I’m just me.

  “What do you want?” I crack the door, leaving just enough space that I can see.

  His gaze finds mine and his eyes widen. “Are you crying?”

  “No,” I snap, sniffling and wiping my face with the back of my hand. “I’m still sick.”

  His gaze drops to the floor, his bare feet exposed. Feet should be ugly. Gross. Especially man feet, but his are long and perfect. Just like his tongue. Probably like the rest of him.

  Damn it.

  “We didn’t steal your panties. I pinky swear, but I can see how you’d come to that conclusion.”

  Desolation mixed with disappointment and a feeling I can’t quite explain or reason settles heavy on my shoulders so I shut my eyes. “Whatever. I don’t even care. Is that all you wanted?” A few more tears escape.

  The door pushes forward and I lift my gaze as he steps in. I back up to give him room, but the backs of my calves hit the end of the bed. There isn’t enough space for the two of us. Not with someone like Trent, whose presence commands an entire arena.

  His eyes travel from the tips of my toes, up my legs, and over my chest. As if I have no control over my reaction, or rather my body can’t help lighting up at his perusal, my nipples bead into erect points, goosebumps cover my flesh, and I have to press my legs together at his unhurried gaze.

  He withdraws his hand from behind his back, and hanging from his index finger is my red satin thong. My mouth opens but his throaty chuckle cuts me off. “I think you must have missed this. It was in the back of the drawer. I swear.”

  I reach out and snatch it from his hands.

  “Fuck me.” The words leave his lips a prayer. “I don’t suppose you’d let me see you wearing the matching set as a reward?” His voice is smooth like caramel candy but the words, they’re poison. The worst kind that eats away at the carefully constructed walls I’ve built.

  An odd equilibrium settles in my belly, and my quick response isn’t there. The words that usually shoot out of my mouth without much thought are muddled by the buzz of energy that thrums through my body. He’s only making a joke . . . because that’s what Trent does. But the heat in his eyes doesn’t hold a punchline. No. Instead, it mirrors the lust reverberating with every beat of my heart.

  His lips lift at the edges and he shakes his head, just enough that his hair falls forward into his eyes. My fingers long to reach up and brush it back. But I won’t. Instead, I clench them behind my back, and the fabric in my hands reminds me I’m not wearing panties.

  He steps forward, his gaze laser focused, and my breath catches in the back of my throat.


  “The fever’s back?” he asks with another step forward. His eyebrows lower and I almost feel sorry for hampering their otherwise perfect shape. He’s close. So close.

  A wise move would be to retreat, but I’m stuck between his body and the side of the bed. Rendered immobile from the intensity of his stare.

  His hands graze the skin on my arms and he dips his chin, lowering his mouth. Slowly. Steady. Purposefully. His breath fans across my cheek and my eyes flutter shut. This is a bad idea. I shouldn’t want it. But right now there’s nothing that can keep me from giving into his kiss. For once, I want to throw out my well laid plans and hard work, and trade them for a night of pleasure. A night of carnal bliss. With Trent.

  Only he doesn’t kiss me. His lips land on my forehead instead.

  We stand, just like that, while time ticks by with his mouth pressed to my forehead. He steps back and his eyes are lit with surprise. “You’re not hot.”

  Oh, but I am, so why don’t you kiss me already. I mash my lips together and exhale a rough forced breath. “I’m fine, Trent.” But I’m not. Not at all. My emotions reverberate in my chest and I’m caught in such a predicament. I don’t want to be like my mother, but for the first time in my life I consider the temptation.

  Trent runs his hand over his forehead and through his hair, pushing it off his face. His stare goes straight through me, so deep, and I fear he can see me. The longing, the desire, the want. The uncertainty. All that’s broken. He nods his head. “We saved you a plate. Come eat with us.”

  “Oh, okay.” I try to shake off the disappointment that shouldn’t come with his invite.

  He backs up until he hits the door and his lips kick up with a smile. “The guys were worried you’d go razor happy if we didn’t.”

  “Wonder why they’d be concerned?” I roll my eyes and Trent’s soft chuckle fills me with joy.

  “So, you’re coming?” His hand rests on the doorknob, and though there’s still a smile at his lips, his eyes are filled with something else. Concern? He’s looking out for me. Because we’re friends. Because I was sick. That’s all this is. Irritation flares. I’m mad at myself for getting caught up in his gorgeous eyes and kind soul. Angry for wanting something I shouldn’t.

  “I said I was.” I huff and step forward, expecting him to open the door.

  “Hold up, Sugar Tits.” His grip on the door tightens. “You’re not coming out until you put on a sweatshirt.”

  I twist my lips into a frown and grab the big sweatshirt I laid out earlier, tugging it over my head. “Turn around, no peeking.”

  “You’re fine now.” He gestures to my shirt.

  “Yeah, but . . .” I hold up the underwear he returned.

  “Fuck me.” His head bangs back against the door, his eyes shut, and he turns to grip the molding. “You aren’t wearing panties. You know how fucking sexy that is?”

  I slide my shorts off just long enough to put on my underwear, my eyes trained on Trent’s back to make sure he doesn’t sneak a peek. Or maybe hoping he will. God, I’m such an idiot. “I’m guessing a lot.”

  “I’m just pissed I didn’t notice the lack of panty lines. Too distracted by your breasts. Has anyone ever told you how amazing your rack is, Lexi?”

  “You can turn around now,” I say, and he turns just in time to catch my eyes roll.

  “Come on, food’s getting cold.” Trent opens the door and waits for me to pass through first.

  When I hear him murmur “Sugar Tits,” I spin around and pin him with a glare. “Don’t call me that.”

  “Sorry. Just imagining that’s how they’d taste.” He waggles his tongue inside his open mouth.

  Fuck. So much for clean panties. I tug my sweatshirt lower on my thighs and march to the table without another look back. The entire meal I try not to imagine Trent’s glorious tongue tracing every inch of my skin.

  And fail miserably.

  23

  Trent

  All night I recall how fantastic Lexi looked in that silky top, the fabric so sheer it wrapped her chest like a second skin. Her nipples—hard and begging to be sucked. Those tiny black shorts that show off her curves. Legs that were made for straddling hips—for spreading wide and sitting on my dick.

  Fuck me.

  With my long limbs scrunched into this too tiny bunk I can’t even jack off properly. I shower instead, fantasizing about those tiny red panties on her sexy little body. Her breathy moans when I make her come. Okay, so I make that part up because I don’t know how she sounds when she falls apart, but it’s my daydream so I imagine that’s how she comes.

  It’s a long night.

  I don’t sleep much, and as daylight pokes through a crack in the darkening shades I pull on a pair of worn jeans and start up the coffee maker. I’ll squeeze in a nap if needed, but laying around isn’t gaining me any rest. Austin, Iz, and Sean are dead to the world as I settle into the bench seat with a mug to watch the miles pass by.

  This is the part of the job I love, city to city, each day a new crowd, new fans, new surroundings. It feeds the wanderlust that flows through my blood, the need to keep moving, to not become stuck or complacent. While those desires haven’t gone away, they’ve changed this tour. They’ve changed because of the blonde sleeping down the hall.

  I love women. And maybe my love for women, in the plural sense, only proves I’m a little fucked up in the head. But there’s no greater joy in my life than to bring a woman pleasure. To get completely lost in the satisfaction that two, or three, partners can bring each other. It’s lust without shame. It’s need and want. It’s temporary love gratification.

  That hasn’t changed, but for the first time in my life I’m not anticipating the horde of women I’ll meet in the next city. I’m only consumed by one woman.

  I can’t even get it up without picturing her face. And I never picture faces, because my attraction hasn’t ever been based on one individual. It’s always been a feeling, a body, a basic human connection. Desire. Longing. And lots of orgasms. Having Lexi at the center of my thoughts is confusing. I want her, but why? Is it because I can’t have her? I don’t like being told no, and I always get my way. Until her.

  A clank of dish on dish takes me by surprise. I lift my chin.

  “Sorry.” She gives a little smile, steadying her mug as she drags it from the cupboard and fills it with coffee. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your . . . What exactly are you doing?”

  Thinking about you.

  “We should write a song together,” I say instead.

  She leans her back against the counter and forms a little O with her mouth to blow on her drink. She takes a sip and pierces me with those eyes that seem to know so much more than someone like her should. “Oh, yeah? And call it Sexy Lexi?” She smiles and it illuminates her face. God damn, she’s beautiful.

  I shake my head and smile back. “You remember that. God, I’m sorry.”

  “I remember everything.”

  Her words hang between us and I wonder exactly what she’s remembering now. “That doesn’t surprise me. So, how about we write a song?”

  “Now?”

  “Sure. I mean, it’s not like I’ve got much going on for the next . . .” I pull out my cell and pretend to scroll through my schedule. “Three to four hours.”

  “Troubles of life on the road for a rock star.” She chuckles and rolls her eyes. “Fine. Let’s write a song.”

  I throw my fist in the air. “Yes! I knew I’d wear you down.”

  “That’s your plan, isn’t it? Attach yourself like a tick and never let go?” She continues to sip her drink.

  I stand and stretch my arms over my head, working out the kinks in my back. Okay, fine. I stretch and flex because I’m not wearing a shirt and I want Lexi to ogle the full view. My lips kick up when she does just that. “No. Ticks are gross. I am obviously better looking than a bug, and bonus—I won’t give you Lyme disease.”

  “I’ll add it to your list of redeeming qualitie
s. Okay. On task.” She throws back the rest of her coffee and rinses out the mug before strutting down the hall. “Let’s write this song so I can go back to my plans.”

  Like a little puppy, I follow her back to her room. “Writing your own song?”

  She laughs, dropping onto the made bed. “Yeah, kinda.”

  “Okay, how do you want to do this?” I stand in the doorway, uncertain how to move forward. I’ve watched other people write a song. I’ve had some creative input with the melodies to a few of ours. But write one? I’ve never done it. I don’t dare mention that now, since Lexi seems to be on board with the activity. I just want to . . . be close to her. God, that sounds so lame.

  She looks at me as though I’ve grown horns and I wonder if she can read my mind. “This is your idea. You take the lead.” She shrugs and picks up her guitar, laying it over her crisscrossed legs while balancing the notebook on one knee.

  All I’m focused on is the fact she voluntarily offered for me to lead. Not that I haven’t coerced her into the song writing, but Lexi doesn’t give up control to anyone. This has to be a good sign. “It makes me more excited than it should when you say shit like that.” I step into the room and shut the door, leaning my back against the wall since she didn’t invite me to sit on the bed. I pull out my cell to make notes on an app because if I mention the fact I don’t own a notebook she’ll probably send me out of the room. “Let’s start with lyrics, yeah? How about we try our luck at a duet? A rock ballad. You write one point of view, and I write the other. Then we can work on the chorus together.”

  She chews on the end of her pen and then scribbles something on her notepad. “Okay, what’s the theme?” Her lashes blink and she looks up from under them.

  “Unrequited love,” I say and clear my throat. “Or something else. That’s just an idea.”

  “No. Let’s go with it.” She studies her notepad and flips her lip ring twice. “So, who’s taking on that position? Me or you?”

  The question hangs suspended between us and I tap my fingers against my knee just to break the silence. This is it. My moment to be honest. To face my fears and feelings head on. Instead, I go with a joke that earns me a smile. “You, of course. I mean, we’ve already established I’m more attractive than a bug.”