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She rubbed his arm. “I’m sorry. I’ve had a few close calls in the last few years. With the paparazzi in our faces all the damn time, it gets easier for them to find us.”
He crossed his arms. “There’s an app for my whereabouts evidently.”
“Then why isn’t there security all over the place?”
“I won’t live like that.” He refused to be a prisoner to his fame.
“Oh, hon, you already are. If you’re denying yourself a relationship because of this, then you’re letting her win.” She held up a hand. “That’s all I’ll say about it. Why don’t we get out of here, huh?”
He nodded and tucked the portfolio under his folded arms. She seemed to know he didn’t want to talk and he was grateful. He’d tried to ignore Izzy all night, but the way she reacted to his music, her gaze on him at odd moments that night, the way he’d searched her out—all of it had been on display and far more obvious than he’d like. He was stupid for encouraging Izzy.
Someone had been enterprising enough to get rid of the last of the stragglers that had been watching their rehearsals. They’d been lucky the fans had been under a reasonable level of control that night. He had a security detail coming in tomorrow to keep things a little more streamlined.
The drive back to his cabin was filled with ribbing and the usual trash talk. Everyone was glad to be done for the night and he had to admit he was happy to have the distraction.
Lindsey was right. Hell, Zeke was right. He was letting Aimee rule his life. It had been happening little by little for the last eight months. He just wasn’t sure how to push it aside.
Logan pressed his forehead against the window. The night was ink black with a sliver of moon to break up the star studded sky.
“You’re very pensive.”
Logan swiveled to Zeke’s voice. “Just tired.”
“You know we have epic drinking to do.”
“You animals are going to eat all my food and drink all my booze. You don’t need me to be there to do it.”
“So you can go up to your room and be moody?”
“Maybe go down to the studio and be moody,” Logan said.
“You would.”
“It is soundproofed.”
“Let’s not be Mr. Anti-social the first night, huh?”
Cody dropped his huge head into Logan’s lap with a muffled whine. Logan stroked between his ears and down his muzzle just as the dog liked until they began the climb up to the cabin. Then Cody sat up between them, his huge tail thumping on the seat.
The lights were on and another car was in the drive as they came up. Everyone and their damn brother had access to his house this weekend, so he wasn’t shocked to find Emerson, one of his bandmates, at the stove when he walked in.
“Oh, man you made it.” Zeke slapped Emerson’s back. “What is that glorious smell?”
“Jambalaya.”
“You are a beautiful man.” Cole brought up the back. He slung an arm around Emerson’s shoulders. “Your mama’s recipe?”
“Is there any other way?” Emerson asked with a laugh.
Zeke patted his cheek. “Look at you all beardy. We’ve only been off the road for two weeks.”
Emerson scratched at Zeke’s blond beard. “A real man can grow a beard quick. You’ve been growing that thing for months.”
Zeke glanced around. “Where’s Christian? I thought he was coming out for this?”
Emerson sighed. “He didn’t respond to my texts or calls. I’m not sure if he’s going to show.”
Logan frowned. “That’s not like him.” Christian was their rhythm guitarist and usually the first one clamoring to play the life shows.
