“Fuck this,” I grumble to myself, bolting up on the couch. She has been a temptation my entire life, an addiction I have somehow fought off until I caved with one opportunity. Now I cannot get enough.
Snatching my keys from the counter, I head for the door but stop dead in my tracks when it swings open, and she comes storming in like a damn tornado. She is a mess of baggy clothes, wild hair, and wide eyes.
“Noah!” Her eyes latch onto mine, her cheeks flushed, her bottom lip chewed raw from her teeth.
“What is it?” I scan her quickly, looking for injury, and then behind her as if whatever has chased her here will follow her in. I haven’t seen her like this in, well… ever. She drops three bags to the ground from her shoulder, the thud loud in the quiet that follows.
Lashes fluttering, she stares at me, “You didn’t call me back.”
“Call you back?” I parrot, confused.
“It doesn’t matter,” she waves her hands manically, her mind running away. I watch her wander by me, muttering under her breath before she spins and starts to pace back and forth. “I’m missing something.”
“Are you drunk?”
She freezes and whips her gaze to me, “What?”
She doesn’t look drunk; her eyes are clear, just a little wild. “Drunk.”
“No, I’m not fucking drunk,” she rolls her eyes with a shake of her head, “I’m thinking. This is going to change everything. It needs to be perfect.”
“Baby, I’m not following,” The slip of the endearment has me biting my tongue so hard the coppery taste of blood washes through my mouth.
She stops dead. “Baby?”
Abort. Abort. Abort!
“What’s going on?” I rub the nape of my neck. “Are you okay?”
“Me?” She nods quickly. “I’m just fine. Just, you know, been presented with the opportunity of my entire career and I’m drawing a complete blank! She loved the idea but wantsmore.”
“Sidney,” I catch her as she moves to pace by me again, holding onto her shoulders to turn her to face me. “Slow down.”
“Help me,” she squeaks.
“Let’s just—” I guide her toward the couch and force her to sit down, but the moment I let go, she’s up again, pacing in front of the windows. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I let her do her thing for a few more minutes, so I track her with my eyes. Her teeth continue to gnaw on her already swollen lip, further irritating it.
She stops and faces me. “I met Stella Shaw today.”
I think my brows hit my hairline. Even if you don’t listen to Stella’s music, it’s impossible not to know whoshe is. America’s sweetheart, country star sensation, and most recently, in the middle of a scandal.
“Where?”
“You remember me telling you about that booking? The wedding in November?”
“Yes.” I nod.
“It’s her wedding.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Oh shit is right,” she starts pacing again. “And I showed her the concepts, and she loved them.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“She wants more.”
“More what?” I ask.
