Page 20 of Rebooting Conor Flynn

Forty minutes later, I pulled up to the fence, ringing the studio lot. Heavy chains secured with a padlock held the gates closed. I left my car outside the gate as I approached it. Clinging to the fence, I tugged on it rattling the chains.

“Anyone here?”

A motorcycle engine roared from beyond the gates, and a second later a Harley turned the corner of the first building and chugged toward me, the rider propelling the bike forward with one foot on the ground.

The guy on the bike cut the engine and slid off the seat, tugging on his sleeveless leather vest and adjusting his sunglasses. “Saw you on the CCTV. I’m Hamish. I run security for the lot.”

Hamish? He should be in a kilt instead of biker gear.

I glanced up at the camera blinking at the corner of the gate. “I’m Noelle Martine with 92 West. Came to check out the tour bus for Summer Live.”

“Yeah, I gotcha right here.” He tapped the side of his head, the naked woman tattoo on his bicep flexing her...whatever. From his pocket, he yanked an enormous set of keys, connected to his beltloop with a solid silver ring.

He selected a key and leaning forward, he inserted it into the padlock with a click. The chain clanked to the ground, coiling like a giant, metallic snake.

I stepped over it as I entered the lot. “Thank you, Hamish. Should I lock up when I leave?”

“Naw, I’ll take care of that. I’m gonna tinker with my bike out front, so I’ll watch the gate.” He waved a muscled arm behind him. “The bus is around the corner of that first building. Only one on the lot today. Can’t miss it.”

“Do you have keys to the bus, so I can check out the interior?” He studied me with a pair of slate-colored eyes under bushy brows. I raised two fingers. “I promise I won’t jack it and drive it off the lot.”

I held my breath as his eyes narrowed, and then he cracked a smile and giggled—the sound so at odds with his appearance, I snorted and then covered my mouth.

“You don’t look the type, Noelle.” He circled his eyes. “It’s the glasses.”

“You don’t look much like a Hamish, either.”

“Yeah, my mom got some crazy idea after reading too many Highland romances.” He patted his white T-shirt beneath the vest. “Most people call me Ham.”

“That I can believe.” I didn’t have the heart to tell him most romance authors assigned the name Hamish to the lovable, loutish sidekick and not the hot Highlander hero.

“The bus is unlocked. Knock yourself out.”

“I won’t be too long, thanks, Ham.”

I skirted the bike still spewing exhaust and smoke from its tailpipe and rounded the corner of the low-slung, beige building. I tripped to a stop when I saw the double-decker bus in sunset shades of pink and orange. The bus sported the Summer Live logo across the side, with the names of Ashley, Conor, and Ji-yoon beneath it. Palm trees, fireworks, stars, and the silhouette of a crowd of people raising their arms completed the garish look.

Someone had forgotten the neon lights and bazooka horn on the outside.

The door to the bus gaped open, and I placed my foot on the first step and grabbed the silver handrail. I eased onto the bus and took a deep breath of the new leather smell. Must’ve been newly outfitted because the bus itself didn’t look like the newest model.

I peeked down the center, taking in the lounge area with a flat screen TV and PlayStation with a variety of controllers in assorted colors. A mini fridge sat next to a microwave with a row of cupboards above that I knew the tour promoter, Odyssey would stock with every conceivable form of junk food, including any requests from the talent. I didn’t know about Ashley, but Conor would put a couple bottles of Guinness on his list of must-haves.

A few bunkbed cots occupied space in the back, past the bathroom. I glanced at the steps leading to the top deck of the bus, which contained the rest of the sleeping quarters.

Odyssey had spared no expense or comfort—which meant they needed to recoup all their money in ticket and merch sales.

I planned to do my best, even if that meant pushing Conor and Ashley together at every conceivable public moment.

Might as well check out the arrangements upstairs. I ducked my head and climbed the stairs to the second level. A row of bunkbeds draped with curtains hugged either side of the bus. I yanked one of the curtains aside and perched on the edge of a bed, bouncing a little to test the mattress.

I could probably manage this for one night—depending on who was in the top bunk.

A footfall on the stairs brought me to my feet with a start, and I banged my head on the upper bed frame. I swayed for a second, and my world dimmed at the edges.

“Noelle, are you okay?”

Through my blurry vision, I saw Conor’s head pop up in the top deck of the bus. His eyes widened, and he scrambled toward me.