by Cari Quinn
“You’re about to cross a line,” she said, just as low. “You’re going to want to tread gently.”
“Oh yeah? And what if I don’t?” He leaned in for a second, so fast she barely had a chance to react. “You going to come all over my mouth again?”
Before she could hiss at him, he moved away and melted back into the bus.
She whipped her head around in time to see a flash of Elle’s boob and swiftly faced forward again. She needed to focus solely on the road. That was what she got paid for. Not only was this job her livelihood, but it had been her redemption too. She’d screwed up by getting involved with Marco. She’d known better, and yet he’d offered her something she hadn’t realized she craved.
Danger. At first a hint, then more. So much more until she was trying to ignore too much. The niggle in her head had become a roar, but it had still taken an act of violence committed right in front of her to make her walk away.
No, run. As fast as she could go. Far from all the trappings of wealth that didn’t truly suit her though she’d been born into a sort of dynasty, spearheaded by one powerful man. She’d been born to one of his less notable siblings, but it didn’t matter. She’d had her own golden spoon, until she rejected it.
That life wasn’t for her. She liked stability and simple living. She also loved that she’d begun to prove to her family that she could set a course and stick to it. Even if it was non-traditional, like driving a bus for a bunch of rockstars. This group had become important to her. Working with them—hell, for them, when it came right down to it—had started out as a job and had quickly become more.
Just like her relationship with Ryan. They’d started off as fast friends, then somehow, before she’d realized it was happening, she’d been spending all her free time with him. He was a guy, but she hadn’t really seen him as anything but a buddy. A hot one, sure. She hadn’t gone blind when she’d moved on from Marco. But still, safely in the friend zone.
They didn’t have sparks. All right, maybe a few every now and then. Just a couple embers to keep things interesting.
Then last night had happened, and now she didn’t know what the hell to make of any of this. She had a feeling that what Ryan had told her in the alley wasn’t the whole story. Unless that was just her past talking, but still. Though he hadn’t exactly seemed open to more questions, he wouldn’t have slept with her just as a diversion.
First, because no dick, no matter how divine, would scramble her thoughts that much, and second, because he’d been so goddamn thorough.
That hadn’t been a phone-it-in kind of sexcapade. She just didn’t get how they’d gone from being buddies who enjoyed talking music and movies and watching the game, to her begging him to fuck her. Some of the details on that part were hazy, so maybe she’d only said it in her head.
No guarantees on that one.
She wasn’t looking for any of this. She wanted to keep her friendship with Ryan intact, and she needed her job for so many more reasons than just a paycheck. The band was her family. Already. The idea of anything messing that up shook her down deep. Especially if she was the one who messed it up because she couldn’t keep her pants on.
There was no way to erase last night. Truthfully, she didn’t want to. She’d learned some important stuff about herself and about Ryan. But they couldn’t sleep together again. Or make crude innuendoes. Or any of that.
Back to business as usual was how it had to be, and once Ryan stopped poking at her, he’d see that too. She was making the only sane choice.
Half an hour later, she parked at the rest area and waited impatiently as everyone who chose to disembark moseyed off the bus. Snail speed seemed to be the most common today. Molly pranced off first, claiming she couldn’t drink any more swill from their coffee maker, and Juliet soon followed, making gestures behind Mol’s back that would’ve made Denver laugh on any other day. Elle and her guy were next, walking arm in arm. They barely separated long enough to go single file down the steps. West and Lo and Michael soon exited as well.
Leaving her alone with Ryan.
She started to swing out of her chair and he blocked her, caging her in. “We need to talk.”
If she met his gaze, she’d be sunk. So she stared out the dingy windshield and made a mental note to attack it with a squeegee later. Sure, she could have one of the crew do it, but she needed to do something physical.
She shifted and winced at the ache in her side. Once the wall bruises healed, anyway.
“We already talked, remember? You made completely inappropriate comments about—”
“Inappropriate? It’s okay if I fuck you, but talking about it is a no-no?”
“Goddammit, none of this is okay. None of it.” She hated that she bowed her head, and worse, that a tremor went through her before she got herself back in line.
She wasn’t this girl. She was strong, independent. Capable of taking zero shit and giving zero fucks.
At least she was now.
“Hey. It’s going to be all right.” He crouched in front of her and braced his big hands on her knees, and God, that was so much worse.
When he trained those perceptive grass-green eyes on her, she couldn’t think. Anything but the truth went out the window, and honesty was so dangerous right now.
Because she wasn’t sure what she wanted, and knew even less what she needed. The only safety net she had left was the status quo. That was her security.
Not him. Not any longer.
“Is it?” she asked softly. “It sure doesn’t feel that way right now.” She huffed out an impatient breath and shut her eyes to give herself a reprieve from having to meet his gaze. “We aren’t supposed to be about this. We were proving everyone wrong. That guys and women can be friends, and it doesn’t have to be about sex. Now everything is all mixed up, and I don’t even know why you did this. All I know is it can’t happen again.”
His hands tensed on her legs. “You don’t know why I did this,” he repeated. “As if it was just me on that roof. Just me in that hotel room.”
She opened her eyes. “You started it,” she said defensively, and wished she could punch herself in the mouth. Jesus. She was making everything worse.
“Yeah, I guess I did, if you want to get technical about it. But I thought maybe we’d been moving toward that spot for a while. Not so much, huh?” She felt the loss of his body warmth even before he pulled his hands away from her knees. His temperature had already dropped a zillion degrees. “I got it. You have regrets. Hearing you loud and clear. Sucks you didn’t hear me, but you know, can’t have a conversation if only one side is listening.”
“I’m right here, aren’t I? I’ve been trying to get you to talk for weeks, and you’ve disappeared a million times and shut me out. That half-assed story you gave me last night won’t cut it, even if you follow it with a sweet dick chaser. I’m your friend, which means I don’t take your crap. Isn’t that in my job description?”
He was already turning away. “Yeah, maybe, if I didn’t know you were way more worried about the signature on your paycheck.”
Her shoulders stiffened. He didn’t know. He couldn’t. It was just a turn of phrase. But shit, adding that worry on top of the rest just made her exhausted. She couldn’t think of any of that right now.
“Of course I’m worried about my job. It matters to me. Just like yours matters to you. Or is mine somehow less important because I’m a little woman and hey, just a lowly bus driver, so no comparison to Mr. Big Deal Rockstar?”
“Don’t,” he gritted out, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Don’t try to make me into an asshole and put words in my mouth so it’s easier for you to slot me into the temporary fuckee slot.”
“Ugh!” She let out a growl of frustration and tipped back her head. “This is why you don’t do stuff like this. We’re already so fucked up, and it was just one night.”
“We aren’t anything. You don’t want more, so it’s done. Back to the way it’s always been. That’s w
hat you want, isn’t it?” He flashed her a grim smile. “As you wish.”
He jogged off the bus and across the parking lot to the fast food restaurants before she had a chance to answer. Or to recover from the glacial chill in his expression.
She shifted back to face forward in her seat and dropped her head in her hands, barely registering the aches and pains that followed. Her sex battle scars scarcely made a dent in her consciousness. Her chest was far too sore.
Hurting Ryan was worse than hurting herself. Especially since she wasn’t even sure how she’d done it. He couldn’t really want more with her, could he? Good sex wasn’t the foundation of a relationship.
Yeah, like you don’t have anything else together, you dolt. Like laughter and friendship and comfort.
But they worked together. This was a conflict of interest, or it could be. She’d signed on the dotted line that she wouldn’t become involved with the talent. Of all the mistakes she’d made, she’d vowed never to make that one.
And she still had misgivings about the whole gambling thing. He might not have come clean, and even if he had, she couldn’t be certain he had it all under control.
Insisting they stay friends was the only thing that made sense. He might not see that now, but once he got over how good it had been, he would.
Besides, last night had just been an anomaly. It had to have been. Patient, even Ryan couldn’t rock her world like that on the regular.
Even if he hadn’t seemed all that even today. Hell no.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.”
Her head jerked up and she swallowed a gasp as her eyes connected with Mal’s in the rearview.
Shit. She hadn’t noticed he hadn’t left the bus with the others. Of course not. Today was the day he just had to stick around to mess with her. To overhear…everything.
Slowly, she swiveled in her seat to face him. “Break’s almost over.”
“You know better, Brownie. Screwing a guy who plays with things that make pretty noises is a recipe for trouble.” Mal sprawled on one of the couches, stretching out his long legs and opening his massive thighs in a way meant to make others uncomfortable. But not her. She knew his type. He was about as subtle as a blade in the gut.
It was the sly, slick ones who sneaked up on you who were the real threat.
“Whatever you think you heard, you clearly misconstrued.” She rose and tried not to grimace. Looked like she’d be grabbing some Advil to go with her takeout espresso.
“Oh, I don’t think so. I also think you bruised his wittle feelings pretty good. He’s going to want revenge. It’ll probably hurt.” Mal sounded positively gleeful. “Just consider that some free advice from your pal Mal.” When she only glared at him, he smiled. “Actually, no. Better not say we’re friends.” He gestured to his groin, prominently on display as always in his tight jeans. “You might want to hop on here next.”
She flipped him the bird and pocketed the keys before hightailing it off the bus, his warning fresh in her mind.
Chapter Five
If he had to answer one more question about the inspiration for “Goodbye” he was going to stuff a microphone down someone’s throat. Maybe Mal’s. Possibly a morning personality’s. It was a toss-up.
Ryan peered out the rainy window of the main living space of the bus. Denver had pulled her curtains down to block her off from the rest of them. One thing she didn’t do often—well, except the last four days.
And it was all his fucking fault.
He’d known better and he still couldn’t keep his shit in check when it came to Denver. That night had been amazing and awful at the same time.
The bruises on his ribs were fading, but the scratches on his forearms? He glanced down and fisted his hands as he flexed the muscles there. Colorado’s kitty claw marks just wouldn’t fade.
And fuck, the nights were worse. Knowing what she tasted like and smelled like was bad enough, but the way she’d gloved his cock? That was the part that killed him.
A kiss, he could put out of his mind. Not easily, but he could do it. Being inside a woman—one who wasn’t just a recreational fuck—was always messier. Add in how spectacular it had been and he was so damn screwed.
He let out a harsh laugh. All-around screwed.
Jules dropped next to him on the couch. “I was thinking about cover songs for tonight.”
Ryan gave her a side-eye. “What about it? I’m not the one who sings.”
“But you can.”
He sighed and turned around in his seat so he faced her. “Only if I want to listen to Mol pout for the next several months.”
Juliet laughed. “I was thinking duet.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Not really into rocking the duet with Mol.”
She curled her feet under herself as she tucked into the corner of the couch near the front of the bus. “This isn’t a duet. It just needs some male vocals added to Molly’s to really make it work.”
He turned away from the window. “I’m listening.”
“‘Every Rose’.”
“Poison?”
She nodded. “I love that damn song, and since everyone’s been so goddamn prickly lately…well, it’s perfect, right?”
He glanced toward the sliver of gray light and caught the curve of Denver’s shoulder. She’d stripped out of her trusty hoodie and was just wearing one of her tanks again.
Golden skin with nothing marring it.
And now he knew she smelled the same as the honey tone of her skin. Fuck.
Stop looking at her, asshat.
He tore his gaze away and focused on Jules. “Run it by Molly and we’ll see if she has a meltdown or not.”
“Awesome!” She slapped his thigh. “I can’t wait.”
He flicked his phone to life and untucked his earphones from his collar. He wore them on the bus most of the time. After a while, a guy got over the thwack of a half dozen tires running over asphalt.
He found the video on YouTube and the familiar ballad filled his ears. The slow, sultry strings of the acoustic bled into his brain. He didn’t pay attention to the old video. He’d seen it a million times, but it was the words that made the song.
And of course, he thought of her. The echo of that night was rarely out of his thoughts. Now he had this to add one more reminder.
Each night, he wondered where she was when he climbed between the sheets at the swanky hotel they’d checked into. It wasn’t that he didn’t have a good idea where she stayed. A creature of habit, she was probably on the bus. But the fact that she hadn’t talked to him—even when they didn’t want to fuck up their friendship by…well, by fucking each other—proved that they’d still screwed up.
Everything.
So for the last three evenings, he’d tried to fill his mind by counting the candy bars and little bottles of gin in the mini bar. And he’d stupidly wondered if she would rather be in the room with him watching a shitty horror movie on Netflix and eating all his food.
He stared at the ceiling. How long would it take to get her out of his system? He was sure it wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
The breathy opener of the song started up again and he hit pause.
Yeah, he’d be playing this song.
He stood and followed Jules to the back of the bus, where Molly was sitting cross-legged in her bunk with her Beats cans over her ears and her eyes shut.
Jules was pacing outside her bunk.
“Well?”
Jules looked up at him with a shrug. “Princess is listening.”
“Doesn’t everyone know it?” Though he’d done the same just a moment ago. But when it came to Molly, she really was a jukebox. She knew every damn song that any of them threw at her.
“She knows it, but doesn’t know if it’s right for her voice.”
He was fairly certain she could make anything work for her powerhouse pipes, but he remained silent.
Molly pulled her cans off her ears. “And you want to sing with me?”
Put on the spot, Ryan glanced from Jules back to Molly. “Yes. Well, Jules thought it would be a fun idea, but I’m game.”
Molly tipped her head. “All right.”
Surprised, he snapped his mouth shut. “Really? That’s great.”
“We’ll do it in practice and see if it works.”
He nodded. “Perfect.” He wandered up to the front, stopping just short of Denver’s area. The odd-shaped theater filled the large window along the side of the bus.
“What the fuck is that?” Mal sprawled on the couch across from the window.
Ryan braced himself on the overhead compartment and leaned down to get a better look. “I guess they weren’t kidding when they named it The Egg.”
Denver ripped her curtain aside. “Five-minute warning. Get your panties, shorts, and/or shirts on.”
Mal glanced down at his lap. “Well, I do have jeans on. Guess that’s good enough.”
“No one cares about your commando status, Mal.” Elle rose off her yoga mat at the back of the living area.
“You’re just dying to get a look.”
“I’ve seen way more than I need to, thanks.” Elle put her hands on her hips.
Mal scratched his belly, dragging his shirt up a few inches. “I can guarantee you’d be way more relaxed if you had a real co—”
“Mal.” Ryan was getting tired of warning him to keep his opinions to himself.
Elle held up a hand. “Don’t embarrass yourself.” She headed to the sleeping area, her usual flips snapping as she strode off. Her piece-of-shit freeloader, Kirk, was sleeping it off in her bunk. He was useless and Ryan couldn’t figure out what she saw in him.
He glanced at Mal, but their drummer was too busy watching her walk away. Her oversized shirt and the crazy-patterned pants the girls insisted on wearing were about as alluring as burlap, and yet Mal was looking at her like she was a damn steak.
Not like Ryan could talk.
He’d never seen Denver in anything other than jeans or the weird workout pants she wore when they were biking or hiking. Well, except for skin.
And skin trumped all. Every luscious inch of her spread out under him as he drove into her perfect body. His cock twitched in memory.