Page 114 of Lyric & the Heartbeats

Lyric’s gaze trailed to the door, the venue that was bustling with crew members and last minute cleanup.

How am I going to get Henry alone?

Emerson eyed Lyric’s back as she left the room, her giggles cutting off as the door slammed shut. He turned to Odd, willing the alpha to feel the weight of his gaze. With a tilt of his head, Odd caught his stare and held it, and one of those silent conversations they’d grown accustomed to began.

“Desi,” Emerson barked a moment later. “Go have phone sex with your girlfriend, I need to talk to Henry.”

Desi narrowed her eyes, clutched her phone, and stood. “Fine. But not because you so rudely told me to. Because it sounds better than eavesdropping on whatever boring conversation you need to have.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Emerson waved her off, but he couldn’t miss the smile that curled her lips as she glanced down at the screen and tapped a few times before turning and retreating from the room. She slammed the door behind her, but he didn’t even care.

Odd dipped his head in a single nod before they turned to Henry as one force and told him their concerns in unison.

“Henry, we think you need to hire the chef—huh?” Adra spoke at the same time Emerson blurted, “Get over yourself and give her a tattoo already—wait, what?”

“That is not what I was trying to say!” Emerson growled, and turned on Adra.

“What does a tattoo have to do with anything?” Adra responded lowly.

Emerson ground his teeth. “Lyric has the hots for Henry, obviously. Are you dense? What’s this about the chef?”

Adra rolled his eyes, and Emerson’s fingers twitched with the urge to wrap them around his throat.

Then his dick twitched too.

Not right now.

“Did you miss the blushes and the flirting and the complimenting the food?” Adra asked, exasperated. “Lyric was attracted to the chef. And it was homemade food! Are you telling me that wouldn’t be good for her to have on the rest of the tour?”

Emerson didn’t have a good response for that, because, like always, Odd was fucking right.

“Okay, fine. She has the hots for Henry and the chef. Two birds with one stone. Henry,” Emerson started, turning toward the alpha with a game plan in mind. “All you have to do is tell Lyric you’re ready to give her a tattoo whenever she’s ready, and if you tell her it was your idea to hire the chef once you saw how much she enjoyed it—bam! Happy omega.” Emerson nodded, more than a little proud of himself for taking care of Lyric, even if she didn’t know it.

That was the only way she’d let them, if she didn’t know. The only one who could get away with buying her things was…

“Hate to break up this little meeting you’ve started, but we’ve got to get on the bus. Let’s go.”

Henry grabbed his tablet, completely ignoring Emerson’s revelation. Emerson wasn’t having that, and pulled Henry to a stop before he could reach the door.

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t hear me.”

Henry sighed. “It doesn’t matter if she… has the hots for me,” he murmured softly. “I’m the manager. I’m her manager, and I have a job to do.”

“Come on now, Henry,” Emerson chided. “You can’t act like she doesn’t affect you.”

Lifting his head to the sky, Henry sucked in a deep breath, possibly asking for patience. It made Emerson fight a smile.

“Once again, I’m her manager. It doesn’t matter how she affects me, I still have to do my job every day. Now come on, we can’t be late to the bus. And I have a phone call to make.”

Without giving Emerson a chance to respond, he opened the door and stormed out.

Emerson grumbled, knowing the conversation wasn’t over but not knowing how to continue it. However… the alpha hadn’t said no.

And as for the last piece of the puzzle…

It wasn’t until they were on the bus, the water running in the bathroom, that Emerson grabbed Nohen by the wrist and pulled him to a stop near the stairs.

Nohen grumbled something about rude alphas and pulled his wrist away. “What?”