Page 61 of Rebooting Conor Flynn

“I spent a lot of years in England when I was a kid. My dad worked there. I picked up some of the lingo.” I shrugged and tipped the glasses off my face. Didn’t want Ashley to start attacking me for my appearance. In my own room. On my own time. But she’d wandered into dangerous territory with her remark about me and Conor.

“Question for you.” Ashley took a long pull from the bottle and slammed it on the credenza.

I jumped.

“Do you know Jade, the backup dancer?”

“She’s helping me document the tour.” I threaded my fingers in front of me waiting for the bricks to come down. “Is there a problem?”

“Just thought she was a little aggressive on the bus with her phone.” Ashley ran a fingernail through the damp label on the bottle, leaving a jagged rip in her wake. “But if she was doing it for you, then it’s all legit.”

“Totally but let me know if she’s being too intrusive. It’s supposed to be a funny look backstage, not an exposé.”

“Got it. Anyway, awesome job on the PR.” Ashley downed the rest of the wine and gave me an air kiss before sauntering out of my room.

I swept the bottle from the credenza, screwed on the cap, and dropped it into the recycling can with a clang. If Ashley was happy with the direction of the PR, then so was I.

The banging on my door made me think she had second thoughts—or she wanted another wine from my mini bar. I yanked the door open and jumped back. Not Ashley. Someone much worse.

Conor.

With his blond hair standing on end and a ruddy Irish flush to his cheeks, he resembled someone who’d just gone twelve rounds with a pillow on a pint of Guinness. Was everyone on tour day-drinking now?

“Conor!”

He pointed over my shoulder. “Can I come in? I made a few phone calls today.”

I made one myself if I dared to tell him about it. I widened the door. “Yeah, of course. Did you discover anything?”

My heart fluttered, and my tongue stuck to the roof of my dry mouth. Maybe I needed to start day-drinking.

As Conor paced to the window, he folded his hands on the back of his neck, his chin to the ceiling. He barely glanced at me when he walked into the room. Either he had some bad news, or he still felt awkward about our kiss.

And I didn’t?

He spun around. “I talked to Gordon.”

“He took your call?” Gordon Cooper sat astride an entertainment empire. He didn’t have to take calls if he didn’t want to.

“He jumped at the chance to talk to me. Called me right back after I left him a message.”

“Is that something new?” I put my glasses back on—as if seeing Conor better would help me concentrate on his words...or put a physical shield between us.

Conor nodded. “He knows something is brewing with me and the lads, and he wants to be a part of it.”

“He wants in on the Five2Go reunion tour.” I pinched my bottom lip with my thumb and forefinger. Might as well do something with my lips if they weren’t engaged with Conor’s.

“He absolutely does. The boys and I already agreed that’s not happening, but...” Conor held up one finger “...it means he’s gonna take our calls and keep in touch.”

“So, you disappointed him.”

“Guess so.”

“Did you disappoint him before or after you asked about the phone?”

“I kept it non-committal.”

“Good thinking.” I shoved my hands in my back pockets to keep my fingers from fidgeting. “And what did he tell you?”