“Ask away.” He covered her hand with his. She was making an effort, and he couldn’t put into words how much that meant to him.
He bought tickets. Not quite nosebleed high, but close. Loaded up with popcorn and beers, they settled into their seats. Empty rows surrounded them. He caught his reflection in her sunglasses. With stubble covering his cheeks and chin, the mirrored Aviator sunglasses, and a cap advertising the minor league team, no one recognized him.
Irisa propped her feet on the empty seat in front of her. “Wow, it’s pretty empty. Nothing like a Riptide game.”
“The Blazers haven’t had a winning season for the past few years.”
He explained the game and kept up a running commentary on the on-field strategy. Her muscles relaxed. He slipped his arm over her shoulders and she leaned against him, warm and happy.
During the seventh inning stretch, the Kiss Cam zoomed around the stands, landing on various couples. He smiled at their excited faces and the resulting displays of affection. And then the Jumbotron’s screen lit up with him and Irisa.
“Hey, look. It’s us.” Removing her sunglasses, she straightened and turned to him.
A smile lit her face, as bright and dazzling as a sunbeam. So beautiful. And aimed at him. Whether the camera was on them or not, he had to kiss her, the urge too overwhelming to ignore. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close. Then his lips captured hers. Soft, sweet, and a hint of berries from her lip gloss. His heart beat hard, a drum in his chest. Her fingers curled into his shirt. She had to feel the effect she had on him. Cheers rang out around them. He changed the angle and took her deeper.
When he lifted his head, her eyes remained closed for a moment. Her tongue touched her lips as though she sought one last taste of him. Hazel eyes blinked open. “Wow.”
“No kidding.” His lips curled into a smile and he cupped her cheek with a gentle hand. He couldn’t wait to get her home. Only two and a half more innings to go.
Her phone rang during the bottom of the eighth inning. “It’s my realtor.” She turned away to take the call.
The excitement in her voice pulled at him. If she got the house, she’d leave. He wanted her to be happy, but he also liked knowing she was only a floor away. Dom studied her profile. No happy sounds, no celebratory gestures. Her shoulders slumped, then she lowered her phone.
Her gaze fixed on the field. “They didn’t accept my offer.”
“I’m sorry. But there will be other houses.”
“You don’t understand. When I walked in there, I felt like I’d come home.” Her voice hitched.
Shit, she better not cry. He couldn’t handle tears, especially hers. He linked their fingers together. “You really wanted it. Put in a higher bid.”
“The seller countered, but I can’t afford to bump my offer up that high.”
“Could you meet them in the middle?”
“I’m not sure. My realtor said they’re pretty firm on that price.” Her lips pressed together. “Maybe it wasn’t meant to be mine.”
He had to cheer her up, or at least distract her. “Come on, let’s get out of here. We’ll go home and get Steve to mix you a chocolate martini.”
“Chocolate can’t fix everything.” The disappointment in her voice and mists of tears in her eyes gutted him.
He pulled her to her feet, then slid his arm around her. “How about I add in a massage and a night of watching movies with me and a Great Dane with the world’s worst timing?”
A little laugh and then a smile began to bloom. “That might help.” She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his mouth. “Thank you.”
He cupped his hand behind her head. His gaze roamed her features. Behind them, the game played on. The crowd cheered. But interest in the game he loved paled in comparison to the woman in his arms.
Love. He loved her.
The realization struck him hard, right then and there. She mattered, more than anyone, and more than anything else. He’d do whatever he had to do to make sure that smile stayed on her face.
The alarm clock’s ringing broke through the haze of fading dreams. Irisa snuggled closer to Dom. Warm limbs wrapped around hers. She rested her hand on his chest, and the even rise and fall of his breathing lulled her into relaxing even more. They’d slept in way too late after staying up way too late for their movie marathon. A quiet room, sheets as soft as clouds, and him beside her. The only thing that could make the morning even better would be breakfast in bed.
“How are you feeling?” His fingers skated down her spine.
Losing out on the house didn’t hurt quite as much with him there, smiling at her, and sharing his pillow. “I’m better. Thanks for last night.”
“Anytime.” His torso shifted, rubbing against hers in the most enticing way as he turned to face her. “Would you want to come to my game this afternoon? You wouldn’t be stuck watching it alone. The guys’ wives and girlfriends all sit together in one of the sections.”
He’d never asked her to attend his game before. Pleasure and surprise radiated deep. She managed to keep her voice even. “Is that what I am, your girlfriend?”
Brown eyes held hers captive. Her breath caught at the intensity swirling in their depths. “I’d like for you to be.”
Happiness fluttered through her with the strength of a thousand butterfly wings.
Although his fingers continued their casual stroking pattern on her back, the rest of his body tensed, waiting for her response. “What do you say?”
“I’d better get a Riptide t-shirt with my boyfriend’s name on the back.”
The room brightened even more with his smile. His fingers trailed up her face and into her hair, and urged her closer to his waiting lips.
Champ stirred in his spot on the floor. Collar jangling, he stretched, then stood and cocked his head at them. She giggled at the dog’s confusion. “I don’t think he’s used to finding me here.”
Dom rolled her under him. “He’d better get used to it.”
Her laughter faded as his body lined up with hers and he pressed kisses along her collarbone. She sucked in a breath and held tight. Getting used to waking up to this every day would be so easy.
Two sharp barks pierced the air. Dom sighed and lifted his head. “Sorry. He needs to go out.”
“It’s fine.”
She stretched and watched him pull on shorts and sneakers. Champ ran into the hall. Dom tugged a t-shirt over his head and then stopped in the doorway and looked at her. “Don’t go anywhere.”
Clutching the sheet to her breasts, she nodded. And lay there, grinning while he talked to the dog in the hall. When the door closed behind them, she reached for her phone and dialed Jayne’s number. Missing one radio interview with the band wouldn’t be so bad, especially if Jayne could accompany them. And the game would be over well before the band’s performance that night.
"Irisa. Hi. I was just about to call you." Jayne's voice wavered through the speaker, an octave higher, and stretched thinner than her normal pitch.
The last time Irisa had heard that stress in her friend's voice had been when Jayne's dog died. "What's wrong?"
"Did Luke call you?"
"No. Why?"
"I'm finished with doing his ridiculous errands. I don't mind helping out the guys, but when he calls me and demands that I spend six hours driving to get him specialty tea, I put my foot down. He's not even nice to me anyway, no matter what I do. No band member has ever treated me this way. I’m done."
Irisa's stomach burned. Jayne couldn't quit now. "Please don't quit. I need you. I didn't know what was going on."
"I won't quit. I wouldn't do that to you. But I'm done going out of my way for him."
She released the stranglehold she had on the sheet. "I'll talk to him. I promise."
"Thanks. I don't want to put you in an awkward spot, but I wasn’t sure if he'd call you, and I don't want you to think I'm not doing my job. I've put up with this stuff for weeks.” She paused and took a deep
breath. “But that's not why you called me. What's up?"
She winced. Asking Jayne to spend any more time in Luke's presence wouldn't be the best idea. "I was going to ask if you could go to the band's interview at K-SWT this afternoon. I can't be there; something came up. But if you don't want to be near Luke, you don't have to go. The guys can do things on their own…"
"I'll go. Zander already asked me, anyway." Jayne's voice brightened, warming. "He mentioned they would be performing the new song he wrote."
The incoming call alert beeped. She glanced at the screen. Luke. Frustration tightened her muscles and her stomach clutched again. Running interference was exhausting, and doing it again, now, pushed her over the edge. "Thanks. I'll let you get back to your day. See you tonight at the show." She ended the call and answered his. "Hey, Luke."
"Jayne laid into me pretty hard this morning." His voice had lost its usual snarl, but his words were tight and tense. "She said a lot of things and I need you to—"
Fuming, she gripped the phone and sat up straight. "Listen to me. She's doing me a huge favor by helping out. I'm fed up with playing referee, first between you and Zander, and now with you and Jayne. This stops now. Don't ask her for outrageous things that you'd never think to ask me to get you. Work out how to be civil to her and grow the hell up."
Before he could respond, she ended the call. Breath pulsed in and out of her lungs, and her heart slammed against her ribcage as fast as if she’d just finished a hard workout. If one more thing went wrong on this tour… The familiar clutch and burn seized her stomach, but her antacids were tucked away in her purse, in the living room. Inhale, hold for a count of four. Exhale, hold for a count of four. Slow. Calm. Breathe. She focused on Dom’s shirt hanging over the back of the chair. His scent in the pillow and the soft sheets surrounding her peeled the layers off her anger. She’d never laid into any of the guys like that. Maybe she’d been too harsh. Maybe he’d needed to hear it. Maybe she should call him back and apologize.
Oliver’s words echoed in her head: You need to keep control of your band.
Too late.
Champ’s bark and Dom’s laughter echoed from the hall. Giving Luke some time to cool down would be a smart idea. Irisa silenced her phone and tossed it on the bedside table.
Dom entered the room bearing two steaming cups of coffee and a smile wider than she’d ever seen. Her heart fluttered wildly and she patted the space beside her on the mattress. “Saved you a spot.”
He climbed in beside her, smelling of fresh air and sunshine. “I could get used to this. A beautiful woman in my bed, happy to see me.”
“And she’s thrilled you brought coffee.” Irisa accepted the cup and his kiss.
“Sure you’re okay? You look a little stressed.”
“Just band issues. Apparently, Luke’s been giving Jayne a hard time. I didn’t notice. And the fact that I didn’t notice is a huge deal. Maybe I shouldn’t miss their interview today.”
His lips pressed together for a brief moment. “Do what you need to do. There’ll be other games.”
She’d caught the dimmed energy. He’d done so much for her. She didn’t want anything to mar the new step in their relationship. “No, I’ll come to the game. I want to be there for you. It’s only an interview. What could go wrong?”
Driving to the stadium a few hours later was an exercise in patience. Deciding what to wear had taken the better part of an hour. And Dom hadn’t been any help. Wear whatever you want. Right. She’d finally settled on shorts, sandals, and a loose, flowy tank top the same shade as the blue in the Riptide’s uniforms. Dom’s promise of getting her a Torres t-shirt for the next game eased some of her nerves over meeting the players’ wives and girlfriends.
She checked the time and swore, then switched from the sports station to K-SWT. The band’s interview was already underway. But instead of The Fury and Assertive Ire talking about co-headlining the tour, and how the shows had been so far, Luke’s voice filled the air, spewing venom about the band.
What. The. Hell.
She pulled over to the side of the road and sent a text to Zander. What’s going on?
Then called him. No response.
“Get him the hell off the air.” Her brother’s voice boomed out of the car’s speakers, jolting her in her seat. “Now.”
Luke’s angry voice continued, “I don’t need any of you… My friend Seth was more than happy to give me a ride to The Caboose.”
The bar where the band had played their first-ever gig had always held a special place in their hearts. Why were he and Seth there and not with their bands?
The DJ laughed, mingling with the sounds of the bar. “Classic rock and roll, man. What’re you drinking?”
Zander’s voice drowned out Luke’s response. “I’m not kidding, man. End it, or I’ll end you.”
“No way. This is gold.”
Shit. She had to get to there.
Luke continued sounding off about the tour and lashing out about every major and minor grievance he’d had over the band’s ten-year run. And Zander’s growling threats to the station’s producer continued to cut in.
“Stop, stop, stop. Oh God, just please shut him up.” She tugged on her hands-free headset, dialed Dom’s number, and then pulled back onto the road. As soon as he answered, she cut off his greeting. “I can’t make it to the game. Luke’s at a bar, drinking and angry, and on-air with the radio station. I’m headed to The Caboose now to try to rein him in.”
“By yourself? Where’s your brother?”
“The band is at the station doing the interview. Luke called in. They shouldn’t have put him on. He’s just insulted the band and it’s getting worse. This is huge. I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
“I’ve seen him drinking and angry. Bad combination. You can’t go alone.”
“I don’t have a choice.” She ended the call. If she sped, she could make it to the bar in ten minutes. But that wouldn’t be fast enough to stop the disaster brewing.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Dom stared at the phone in his hand. She’d hung up on him, racing to save Luke from himself.
Luke. The angry drunk. The fighting drunk. Bits of his tirade had come through during the call, awful background vocals to Irisa’s desperate message. He’d sounded a lot more ticked off than he had the night of the bar fight. And she was going to face him down. Alone.
A chill of unease shot through Dom’s spine. He jumped to his feet. His teammates were leaving the locker room, heading toward the field and the game minutes away from starting. He didn’t have time to go after them to give an explanation. Didn’t have time to do anything except grab his wallet and keys and bolt for the parking lot.
Security stopped him by the exit. “Mr. Torres, everything okay?”
“Gotta go.” He pushed open the door and ran to his truck. Pulled out onto the street. Tuned in to the radio station.
“Well, folks.” The DJ’s chuckling voice filled the air. “If you’ve just tuned in expecting to hear the interview with The Fury and Assertive Ire, I have something better. Minutes ago, Zander Rostov stormed out of our studio with his band mates and Assertive Ire in tow. I can only assume they’re headed to The Caboose to join Luke Thompson and Seth Reines for a drink. Hang tight during this commercial break, and I’ll replay the interview. You don’t want to miss it.”
He pressed the gas pedal to the floor. Memories of Luke the night of the fight sped through his mind with every passing mile. Outraged and out of control. And his five-foot-five goddess was on a collision course with a man who had fists of fury. His stomach felt like a lead weight. If anything happened to her…
He didn’t have a clue where the radio station was located in relation to the bar, or how long the band would take to arrive. Weaving around cars, he pushed his truck to the max. Getting to Irisa as fast as possible was all that mattered.
A large crowd gathered outside the bar. He parked in the first open space he found and stepped outside. The sea of
faces turned to him as he strode closer. People taking pictures, talking about the interview and how they were waiting for a glimpse of the bands as they arrived. Which meant he’d beat them there. Which meant Irisa was alone. He fought through the throng and edged his way inside.
“Hey, it’s Dom Torres!”
“Dom, why aren’t you at your game?”
He waved at the guys calling out to him and kept going. Too many people packed into the room. Finally, he spotted Irisa and Luke at the end of the bar, and pushed his way toward them.
Irisa’s voice reached him. “Come on, Luke. Let’s get out of here and we can talk.” She laid her hand on his shoulder.
He shrugged her off and spun around, eyes sparking anger. He pushed off the barstool and loomed over her, so much larger, so much more a threat than he’d seemed sitting down. “Leave me alone. Go back to whatever”—his gaze connected with Dom’s and he sneered—“or whoever you were doing when I called you this morning.”
Dom surged forward and stepped in front of Irisa. “You’d better apologize for that.”
Eyes wide, Irisa gripped his forearm, relief written across her features. “What are you doing here?”
“Thought you might need me.” He spoke to her but kept his focus on Luke.
“As what? Protection from me?” Luke glanced between them, looking more and more pissed off with each passing second.
The crowd erupted in shouts and cheers behind them. People surged toward the entrance, then ebbed away, like a human wave, parting to allow The Fury and Assertive Ire access to the room. Zander’s expression promised murder. He spotted them and strode over. The crowd surged again, toward them, following the band. Flashes from people taking pictures went off like strobe lights. Frenetic energy crackled the air. Instinct told Dom something wasn’t right. He wrapped his arms around Irisa and pulled her away. His height gave him the advantage as he moved them along the perimeter of the noisy room.
“What are you doing? I have to get between Luke and Zander.” She pushed against his hold, voice pitched high over the crowd.
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