Page 25 of Animal Beats

What? I query my body and realize I’m bone tired. The rampaging endorphins seem to have left when I changed my pants, and all of a sudden, all I can think about is my bed.

I rub my left pec. This isn’t normal.

Before I can respond, Coop and 007 stroll over to us. The bassist asks, “Coming out with us?”

Coop adds, “First round of drinks on me.”

“Asshole. You know I’m not allowed to touch the stuff. Luke will have my nuts.” Not to mention Hayden would probably have a cow. Why don’t I want a drink?

“I could slip you a Gold Rush,” our annoying guitarist says, wiggling his sunglasses at me.

“As enticing as that sounds, I’m crashing. There’s always tomorrow night.”

I glance at Hayden, whose mouth has fallen open. Good. Need to keep everyone on their toes. No one can accuse me of being predictable.

8

HAYDEN

Iswear, if Nese touched me with a feather, I’d be on the floor. Did Río really say he wants to sleep? Whatever, I’m not fighting him on this one.

Leaving the band to grab my purse, I overhear Luke telling them to be in the lobby tomorrow by one because Nese is taking them shopping. Nese and I talked about this outing during the concert. Even though she picked up nice things in Italy, the stylist in her wants to add new items from Barcelona. With a quick wave to a woman who I’m quickly thinking of as a good friend, I adjust my camera strap and rejoin Río.

I’m almost afraid to ask if he’s changed his mind. When I approach him, he’s telling Tris to have fun tonight. Guess we’ll both get some quality sleep tonight. For the first time since Rome. My body needs it.

“Luke got us a car,” the talented drummer says.

“Thanks.” I nearly double check that he wants to end the night, but decide against it. Not looking a gift horse in the mouth.

We say our goodbyes—Luke gives me a thumbs-up while Jenna hugs me—and soon we’re whisked through the streets of Barcelona. We cross the ornate lobby, my fingers twitching to capture it with my camera proper, but I manage to go directly to the elevator with Río. So far, so good.

In the suite, Río collapses on the sofa. Damn. I only need to get him into his room and I’ll be golden. He picks up the remote and the TV comes to life. “I’m going to watch something, then I’ll go to bed. You don’t have to wait up.”

Both his tone and relaxed posture give me pause. If this were anyone else, I’d say “See you in the morning,” and celebrate my good fortune. But this is Río. How can I trust he won’t slip out and cause a major uprising?

“Nah.” I flounce onto the other end of the sofa. “I’m up for some television.”

He shrugs his naked shoulder, the muscles bulging. Well, he did just have a three-hour workout behind the drums. He puts on a comedy featuring Will Ferrell, and tosses the remote on the sofa. Within ten minutes, he is snoring.

Huh. Guess he really was tired.

I want to sleep in my bed, which seemed very comfortable last night even though I was on high alert. However, I’m still suspicious Río won’t wake up and roam through Barcelona. After sharing a photo of the sleeping drummer with my bestie in LA, I readjust myself and pull a throw blanket over my body.

The sofa it is.

The next morning, my cellphone alarm goes off at nine o’clock and my eyelids flutter open. I shove the blanket off myself; aware I’m still wearing the outfit from last night. Because I slept in the living room with Río.

Río!

I bolt upright, and almost collapse when I see the drummer sleeping like a child. He looks innocent. Nothing at all like the mischievous rabble-rouser I’ve gotten to know.

Leaving him sleeping on the sofa, I go into my room and take a shower. Since Río’s going clothes shopping with Nese this afternoon, I put on a fun dress I picked up at a thrift store in North Carolina. I step into pair of sensible shoes that will be good on the cobblestones. A warm cardigan to stave off the slight chill is added.

When I return to the living room area, Río’s gone. Panic mode sets in for a split-second, before I hear his shower running. I collapse onto the sofa and my thumping heart slows down. He’s still here. My job is still going strong. I’m still in the running to win Bennett’s bet.

Standing, I fold the throw blanket and try to FaceTime my sister but get the automated “this person is unavailable” message, so I go to the wet bar and make coffee. Remembering he had room service for “breakfast” yesterday, I order us a couple of Spanish omelets, a side of chorizo—since he seemed to enjoy it before their concert—and juice. Plus, more churros.

When Río re-enters the main living area of the suite, his hair is wet. Thankfully, he’s wearing a shirt today and a pair of light blue jeans that fit him like a glove. Not that I notice such things.