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“Oh yeah you do. The first rule of public break ups is look infinitely fuckable. Even if you don’t plan on taking a pretty boy home, at least make everyone think you can.”
“Your logic is so often flawed. Why do I keep you around?”
“Because I am your swami.” Nic pushed by her and flicked hangers aside until she got to the end. “Where have you been hiding this?”
Bella sighed. “It’s too tight.”
“Nothing is too tight.”
“So says the girl that has her picture next to the word luscious in the dictionary.”
“Why, thank you.” Nic held the dress up in front of Bella. “This blue and your crazy yummy eyes. Totally rock the warm, smoky eye shadow and lots of mascara. You need big hair too.” She turned Bella around and popped her on her ass. “Now.”
“You’re a menace.”
“You’re welcome.”
She stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door. Armed with a spray bottle mixture of coconut oil and water, she wet her hair down and stuck clips in her hair. She got dressed, blew her hair dry and shook it out until it was all soft waves, then did her eyes. When she returned to her room, Nic was on her iPad again.
She quietly moved to Nic’s side and stole the iPad.
“No, B—don’t.”
She looked down, because how could she not? Nic had just said the magic word.
Logan kissing a woman.
Logan kissing her.
Somehow that made it worse.
A photographer must have caught them in front of the house last night. The picture was fuzzy, but it was definitely them. She looked happy. Her chin tipped up to kiss him, his arms around her. The memories of what happened just after that picture assaulted her. The atrium, his bed, the shower. Her traitorous body reacted to the memory. Even when he’d hurt her so completely, she couldn’t stop the heavy need pooling within her.
She closed the cover on the iPad and set it on her bed. There was no way she could get through that night if she didn’t shut those memories down. “You ready to go?”
“Yeah.” Nic was unusually quiet as she stood and went to the door. “You look great.”
Bella practiced her winning smile. “I had my very best friend pick out the perfect outfit.”
“Yes, I did.”
She slid her arm through Nic’s. “Then let’s go show each other off.”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”
Twenty-Five
Logan stood in the center of the gazebo. It was Sunday—the last night of the festival. The air was still and the humidity had finally broken. His band was there. Hundreds had gathered in his little town. To see him play, to see All the King’s Men in an intimate show.
And he would give it to them.
Because that’s what he was supposed to do. The night before had been a shittastic show in his mind. The critics and newspapers had disagreed. But he believed it was more because of the team he’d played with for the weekend. They’d pulled him out of the fire a few times. And now he was here, one more time. This stage was different than the barn. It was familiar and stifling at the same.
But his life would not be ruled by one woman. He closed his eyes. Let the song he’d rehearsed a dozen times buzz in his head and the long sigh of Zeke’s guitars bolster him.
She was out there.
He could feel it. The little hairs on his arms rose. When he didn’t start the song like he should, the boys knew. They replayed the first chords, trusting him to walk out and give the performance that everyone deserved.
