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“You’re welcome, too, by the way, for all the shit I’ve done for you,” he said sharply. “Get dressed and come back down. Possum will take you back to your bus soon. You’re welcome for that, too.” He swiped his beanie from the counter and tugged it over his head. “You got five.”
She closed her eyes and released a long sigh. “Sorry.”
“Me, too. Get plenty of women without havin’ to be a creepy peeper.”
Her eyes opened and she nodded.
“Trip wants your band and that bus off the farm by Saturday mornin’. Make sure that happens.”
She nodded again.
“It’s for the best,” he added.
“I agree.”
As he turned, he noticed his laundry basket on the couch.
It was empty.
His eyes sliced over to his dresser. All the drawers were shut, but something sat on top.
Against his warning, she had dug deep.
He had to assume that was on purpose.
He turned away to hide his grin and went back downstairs.
Maybe she wasn’t such a skittish little kitten after all and only hiding her inner lioness.
After all, wasn’t it a lioness who was always the leader of her pride?
If so, he wouldn’t mind feeling those claws raking along his skin.
Chapter Nine
They parked the bus down at the church and walked to Crazy Pete’s. They drove over early so the guys could grab some food and drinks first. And with any luck, Rex could bet on and win a few games of pool before they headed up on stage at eight.
Syn wouldn’t eat until after they played since she had a hard time singing with a full stomach. It bogged her down and made her sleepy.
But now they were finishing up their second set, after taking a fifteen minute break between them, to grab water and dry off some sweat.
Rex also had an extra sixty bucks in his wallet. Unfortunately, after winning three games in a row and taking his competition’s money, no one else wanted to play him. That stream of income quickly dried up.
But, hey, sixty bucks was sixty more than they had. With that and the four hundred they’d get at the end of the night, they’d be able to fuel up the bus, fill the propane and head out on their search for their next gig.
Hopefully somewhere warmer.
They had to trudge through about an inch of snow between the church’s parking lot and the rear of Crazy Pete’s. Wearing her high heel boots, she had to hang onto Nico the whole way so she wouldn’t fall and break anything. Like her neck.
She should’ve just worn her combat boots, but she dressed the way she did on stage to encourage more tips.
Tonight, she had worn her lace-up, black, above-the-knee boots with the three-inch heels paired with a pair of black, fake leather leggings that clung like a second skin. She wore a black lacy push-up bra under a loose white top that had a draping V neckline that exposed most of it.
She didn’t give a shit about looking sexy or attracting men, she only cared about making enough money for them to survive.
She had also given herself smoky eyes and bright red lips. Had hair-sprayed her hair into a “freshly fucked” look, even though that was far from the truth. It had been so long since she welcomed a man’s touch that her body forgot what it was like to want it.
If she was being honest with herself, she had forgotten until she met the man behind the bar currently hustling to serve a packed house.
His touches, even as brief as they’d been, seemed to awaken every nerve ending under her skin. When he stared at her with those intense dark brown eyes, heat licked along every part of her.
He was dangerous.
Even though he hadn’t done anything inappropriate.
He didn’t enter the bathroom last night because he wanted to force himself on her, but had come in to check on her. He had no evil intentions when he burst into the tiny room, instead, he said he’d been worried.
She believed him.
His genuine concern made him even more attractive.
Safe. That was how she felt around him. Besides with her band members, she didn’t remember ever feeling this safe with anyone of the opposite sex.
Well, at least not in a very long time. Before she discovered she couldn’t trust any man until he proved himself to be trustworthy.
Unfortunately, too many had proved otherwise.
They only had two more songs for this last set.
She was tired, hungry and thirsty.
She finished up their version of Christopher Cross’s Ride like the Wind. They slowed it down a few notches from the original and gave it a more soulful sound. It usually went over better for an older crowd versus a college bar packed with barely twenty-one-year-olds who had no clue who Christopher Cross was.
They transitioned right into their last song for the night, her unique version of Wicked Game by Chris Isaak. One of her favorites.
