by Eden Summers
“We’re not too busy or preoccupied.” Mason turned to her, fastening his belt. “It’s a guy thing. We don’t do deep and meaningful shit or bond over chick flicks. We decompress in other ways.”
“For example?”
He pulled a collared shirt over his head. “We divert attention away from the crap he can’t control. We play devil’s advocate so he has someone to take his anger out on. We give him the freedom to lose his shit if he needs to. We don’t hover over his shoulder and make everyone aware that he’s struggling.”
She sighed, knowing all the times he’d said ‘we’ should’ve been ‘I.’ “I understand that you’re more comfortable saving the day by hiding under your Captain Asshole persona, but Ryan’s not like most of you. He needs friendship. He needs someone to talk to. He needs—”
“Does he?” Mason raised a brow. “Or is that what Julie shaped him to need? Because I sure as shit remember him being one of us when we first started out. It wasn’t until after they were married, and she sank her nails in, that he turned soft.”
“He’s not soft,” Blake muttered.
“No, he’s not.” Leah glared at Mason. “You need to stop treating him like a leper just because he thinks and feels differently than you.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Am I the only one who remembers who Ryan used to be? Who he was before his wife changed him?” It was Mason’s turn to hit her with a feral stare. “Yeah, he’s always been the Romeo of the group—the charming son of a bitch who knew how to sweet-talk. But before he was shoved under the thumb, he used to party like the rest of us. He used to get into fights and swear like a trucker and not give a shit about upsetting everyone.” He stabbed a finger at his chest. “I, for one, am not going to sit around and stop the old Ryan from making a comeback. You’re too busy trying to keep him in the box Julie created, while I’m trying to help him escape that hell hole.”
Leah blinked, once, twice.
As much as Mason drove her to insanity with his carelessness, he was far more emotional than he let on. And he was right, Ryan had been different back when she’d first met him. He was never the seducer or the egotistical manipulator. But he’d been more alive. More energetic. More like the man she’d spent time with over the past week—the man she’d originally fallen for. She just hadn’t realized until Mason pointed it out.
“OK,” she mumbled. “Then what would you suggest to make things easier on him?”
“It’s simple. Give him what he wants.”
She swallowed, remembering what his most recent request had been.
Mason latched onto the sight, his eyes narrowing, his lips quirking. “What does he want, Leah?”
Damn him.
His smirk grew with the knowledge in his eyes. “Leah?”
“He wants me on your bus.”
“There you go.” He dusted his hands together as if his work here was done. “An easy fix for tonight’s drama.”
“No.” She shook her head. “It’s not an easy fix. Not when anyone seeing me get on or off your bus will immediately make assumptions.”
“You’re thinking too much into it.” Mitch grabbed a towel from the pile in the corner of the room and leaned on the counter beside the bathroom door. “You’re our manager, of course you’re going to spend nights on our bus when we’ve got business to discuss.”
“What about the driver? I won’t risk anyone else finding out, and it’s not like Ryan wants me on-board so we can sing Kumbaya.”
“Pat will be fine. He’s signed a confidentiality agreement like the rest of the crew, and most of the time he has his earphones in to give us privacy.” Mason lugged his duffle off the couch and moved to the corner of the room to grab another off the floor. “It’s my own ears I’m worried about.”
She shuddered. The thought of them overhearing anything intimate between her and Ryan wasn’t pleasing to her either.
“I think it’s a good idea,” Mitch offered. “With Alana back at her mother’s retreat until we take a break back home, it’ll be good to have another female onboard.”
“As long as you’re OK with it, Lee-lee.” Blake pinned her, his eyes asking innumerable questions. “Is this what you want?”
It was. She wanted to spend every waking moment with Ryan. To be unrestricted and unfazed by external influences. But there was something she wanted above all else. “More than anything, I want him to be happy.”
“Then you’ve got your answer.” Mason headed for the door, a duffle bag hanging over each shoulder. “Go get your shit and we’ll meet him at the parking lot.”
Chapter Seventeen
Ryan leaned over, peering out the bus window. Mason and Leah had exited the stadium, the pair parting ways as they headed toward two different buses.
The cold shower had calmed him, at least enough to realize he owed her an apology. One that should come face to face, preferably with more material covering his body. For now, the towel would have to do. His suitcase was packed somewhere beneath the bus and his duffle was still in the dressing room.
He walked down the aisle, his attention now on Mason who had stopped in his tracks.
“Leah.” The Reckless front man’s shout was loud enough to draw the attention of the nearby crew and stadium staff. “Hurry up and get your shit. We need to go over this contract before I can catch some Zs.”
Contract? Ryan leaned over the small booth dining table, trying to catch a glimpse of the woman in question. No luck. She’d walked out of view, teasing his senses from afar. He was still snooping when Mason climbed onto the bus, taking the three steps in his stride before stopping at the start of the aisle.
“Let me have it.” Mason spread his arms wide, two duffels swinging at his sides. “Get it off your chest.”
Ryan straightened. “I’ve got nothing to say.” Nothing helpful, anyway.
Mason gave a casual nod. “Fair enough.” He lowered a shoulder and grabbed the duffle strap before it fell. “Peace offering?”
“Thanks.” He accepted his bag and dropped it to the floor to go in search of clean clothes. “What contract do you need to go over with Leah?” He felt like a dick for asking, for snooping, but he couldn’t help wanting to know everything where she was concerned.
“There’s no contract.” Mason stepped over him and shoved a duffle into the narrow storage cupboard beside the first column of bunks. “She said you wanted her on the bus, but she was worried about people asking questions. I just gave her an alibi.”
“Thanks.” The word was grated, not entirely forthcoming.
“Consider it another peace offering.” Mason continued walking. “If you need me, I’ll be hiding in the back, watching TV and hoping for temporary deafness.”
Ryan fought a smile as he bundled a set of clean clothes in his arms and shoved to his feet. The rest of the band climbed onto the bus behind him, Blake, Mitch, and Sean trailing in a row.
“I need a drink.” Mitch slid his duffle along the ground and pulled open the fridge. “You want one, Ry?”
“You guys aren’t going to chew me out first?” Ryan tugged his underwear on beneath the towel, then his sweats. He’d find a shirt later.
“Chew you out for what?” Blake squeezed past. “Not taking a swing at Mason when you had the chance?”
“It was definitely a missed opportunity.” Sean pulled the fridge door wider, sliding an arm past Mitch to grab a beer.
“I lost my cool,” he admitted. “It shouldn’t have happened.”
“I hate to break it to you, bro, but you’ve never been cool.” Mitch pulled two drinks from the fridge and closed the door with a nudge of his elbow.
More jokes. More laughter. Ryan supposed he should be thankful for the lack of accountability. He probably would’ve been if it didn’t increase his guilt.
He dragged his feet to the storage cupboard, shoved his bag inside, and came back to take the beer from Mitch’s outstretched arm. “Thanks.” He twisted the top and took a long pull, his gaze stra
ying to the beauty making her way up the bus stairs.
Sean temporarily blocked his view as he passed, making it impossible to anticipate what mood she was in. “I’ll be out back with Mace if you guys need me.”
Ryan nodded and cocked a hip against the bunks as Leah made her way toward him, her overnight bag on one shoulder, her handbag over the other. She wasn’t smiling, wasn’t glaring either.
“Do you still want me here?” her voice was soft, but it didn’t offer them privacy, not when Blake and Mitch were sitting around the booth seat in silence and he was yet to hear the television turn on at the back of the bus.
“The answer to that will always be yes.” He pretended they didn’t have an audience, that his words were only heard by her.
She nodded. “Where do you want me to put my bags?”
“Anywhere. There’s room in the storage cupboard if you want me to stack them.”
“Let me get a change of clothes first. I need to have a quick shower before we get on the road.” She lowered her bag to the floor and riffled through the contents, coming out with nightwear and a small beauty bag. “That should be all I need.” She straightened, her belongings clutched to her chest.
Lucky her. His needs were far more extravagant. The post-show adrenaline demanded action. What action, he wasn’t entirely sure. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “Forgive me for losing my mind?”
Her breathy chuckle brushed his lips. “Don’t worry, I think mine is equally lost.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Her gaze lowered. “You being shirtless doesn’t help.”
“I’m happy for you to even the score.”
Her laughter did crazy things to him. He wanted to sink into the sound. To bottle it and keep it with him forever.
“You don’t think the guys would mind?”
“I wouldn’t protest,” Sean called out.
Her lips quirked. “We have absolutely no privacy here.”
“Not an ounce,” Blake confirmed.
She rolled her eyes and stepped back. “I’m going to have a shower.”
Ryan extended his arm with her movement, not releasing his hold. “Need any help?”
“No.” She reached for his beer and took a sip, the liquid moistening her lips. “But I’d love if you had a drink waiting for me once I get out.”
“Can do.” He dropped his hand, already hating the distance, and strode for the front of the bus. It was going to be a long night if he couldn’t 007 some private time. There was no way Leah would be sleeping in a different bunk, but what they did in that bunk, while surrounded by eavesdroppers, was another question.
“We all set for Kansas City?” Pat climbed aboard and sank into the driver’s seat. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”
“Yeah.” Ryan slid into the booth beside Blake. “Just try and take the turns easy. Leah’s about to have a shower.”
“Leah?” Pat glanced over his shoulder. “Shit. I guess I’ve gotta stick to the speed limit now.”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” she called from the bathroom.
The bus door closed and the engine burred to life. The steady vibrations coursing through the cushioned seat didn’t help his surge in blood flow. The pulsation damn near killed him. He wondered how long he should wait. One minute? Two? Joining her in the shower was inevitable.
“Don’t bother.” Mitch placed his beer on the table. “I’ve tried getting some bathroom action before and it isn’t worth it. You can barely turn in the shower, let alone swing a dick. Save it until she gets out.”
Ryan glanced over his shoulder to Pat. The driver already had his headphones in place, the music loud enough for him to hear the garbled noise over the hum of the engine. “Don’t forget we’re trying to keep this under wraps.”
“Don’t worry. He can’t hear a thing.”
They were on the road in minutes, the cityscape going unnoticed as he kept his gaze trained on the bathroom door.
“So you’re really doing this,” Blake murmured. “Doing her, I mean.”
He took another swig, and raised a brow. “It’s a bit late to be askin’, isn’t it?”
“Don’t get your cock in a twist.” Blake landed an elbow to Ryan’s ribs. “I just thought you and Felicity might be a thing…”
“No.” He cringed. “Not even close.”
“So you’re all in with Leah?”
“If this is the lead up to warning me away, you can save your breath.” He looked Blake head-on. “I have no intention of hurting her.”
“It’s not her I’m worried about. She’s got bigger balls than all of us. I’m more concerned you’ve taken on a challenge you’re not prepared for.”
He glanced back at the bathroom door, willing it to open. “I can handle it.” At least he hoped he could. Tonight wasn’t a good indicator. His emotions were continuing to spiral, the excitement and frustration over being alone with her a building force. But there was Julie to think about. Grander. Felicity. The paparazzi. Leah’s career. The list was endless.
“Don’t bite off more than you can chew.”
He smirked, an expression borne of determination, not confidence. “Don’t worry. I’m a big eater.”
The click of the bathroom door drew him to his feet. He grabbed a beer from the fridge, twisted the lid and slid back into the seat as she approached in a thin, loose sweatshirt and a pair of cotton shorts. Her hair was loose, her pretty face devoid of make-up. Casual, yet undeniably perfect.
Mitch patted the seat beside him and she sank into the offering, her gaze flittering from one man to the next. “What were you talking about?”
He smirked through another gulp from his bottle. “The weather.”
“The weather?” She gave a coy smile. “Interesting.” She grasped the beer in front of her and sipped, her tongue working her bottom lip in a slow sweep. “What’s the forecast?”
Blake snickered. “I think it’s going to get steamy.”
“And wet,” Mitch added.
Her lips twitched. “I find it hard to believe the two of you are in grown-up relationships.”
“Uh huh.” Blake nodded. “We get to see real boobies.”
She rolled her eyes with a chuckle. “How is Gabi?”
“Round and glowing and absolutely beautiful.” He grinned. “She’s going to be a phenomenal mother.”
“I agree. The two of you will make great parents.”
“And what about you?” Mitch slid his arm along the back of the booth seat. “Do you plan on having brats of your own?”
“Not anytime soon.”
Ryan swallowed over the spike in awareness. He couldn’t deny the instinct to fill his woman with babies. If able, he’d give her a houseful of the little rug-rats. “You’d be a good mother. A hard-ass, but a great mother all the same.”
She met his focus and took a pull of her beer. “I’m too selfish. It’s different for guys. You don’t have to contemplate the loss of a career, or income. Then there’s the lack of freedom. I also like my body the way it is.”
He lowered his attention to her neck, her chest, then back up again. “I like your body the way it is, too.”
There was a beat of heavy silence before Blake cleared his throat. “This conversation took a sharp turn into fucking-awkward.”
Her cheeks darkened as she took another long pull.
“Stop eye fucking,” Mitch muttered. “You’re making me uncomfortable.”
Those high cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink. “I think that’s my cue to call it a night.” She pushed the half empty bottle of beer toward him. “Can you finish this for me?”
He jutted his chin in confirmation as she slid from the booth.
“Which bunk do I take?”
“Bottom left.”
“That’s the vacant bunk?”
He raised the beer to his mouth and did the opposite to Mitch’s request—eye-fucking the hell out of her. “For the moment.”
>
Her amiable smile turned seductive. A huge curve of luscious lips. That expression made his world stop. His thoughts quiet. Everything else was static. He wanted to wake up to that sight. To fall asleep to it. He wanted to be the cause of every curve of lips and devilish sparkle in her eyes.
“Good night, all.” She started down the aisle and pulled the curtain across to shield the sleeping area from view.
It took five seconds for him to down the remainder of his beer. Another five to finish hers.
“I’ve got a spare pair of socks if you need them.” Mitch slid from the booth, disposed of his empty bottle, and grabbed a new one from the fridge.
“Socks?”
“To shove in her mouth. You never know how loud they’re gonna be.”
He snorted, the bottle swishing into the plastic liner before thunking to the bottom. “She’s not that loud… Only when I want her to be.”
There was another pause, another contemplative silence.
“You two have already fucked?” Blake asked.
Mitch sat forward, resting his elbows on the table. “When the hell did that happen?”
“I don’t kiss and tell.”
“No shit.” Blake’s eyes were wide. “But come on, man, you’ve gotta give us something. Is she as high-strung in the sack? Or is she crazy good?”
The two speculated among themselves while Ryan mentally relived the first night he’d spent with her. Was she high-strung? Hell, no. Nothing was off limits. No place on her body went untouched, no expanse of skin untasted. He’d done things with her, to her, that he’d never done with anyone before. So, no. She wasn’t high strung.
Was she crazy good? He chuckled to himself. He’d never been a guy who was owned by his desires. Not until that night. She’d taken his barely functioning libido and injected it with steroids. She made him daydream about dirty shit he never would’ve previously fantasized about. Leah had successfully found his switchboard and turned all the dials to heightened settings.
“Fuck,” Blake was gawking at him now, his jaw slack. “She’s kinky, isn’t she?” He glanced at Mitch. “Check out the dazed look in his eyes. My boy’s hooked a nympho.”