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Shockingly, Lila did not look displeased in the slightest. In fact, she hustled forward and clasped Randy’s forearm with damn near glee. “Randy. So happy to see you here. Come with.”
He shot Juliet a helpless glance and grabbed his jeans off the floor. She shrugged as he pulled them on, then headed into the main part of the bus ahead of Lila. A moment later, he joined them.
Once they were seated around the round table that bordered the galley-style kitchen, Lila unfolded the magazine under her arm. “I just wanted to say I think it’s great. Let me be the first to congratulate you.”
Juliet frowned and snatched the magazine. “Congratulate us on what? Oh.” She turned the magazine sideways, then closed it and set it down with a grim smile. “How did they get pictures?”
“How do they always get pictures?” Lila asked patiently. “They’re everywhere, and that’s a good thing because Warning Sign desperately needs some press attention. Especially because this gives good trope.”
When Juliet stared at her, Lila nodded. “A favored press narrative. Bad girl with good boy. They love that. It’s not quite as juicy as good girl with bad boy, but we’ll work with what we’ve got.”
Randy plucked up the magazine in question. “What do we have, exactly?”
“Page twenty-two,” Lila informed him, practically beaming.
He opened to a page that contained a picture of himself with his hands down Juliet’s jeans—literally, as he was cupping her ass under the denim—while she kissed him like they were, oh, not being photographed. He even knew when it had been taken.
Juliet had practically attacked him backstage after Tuesday night’s concert in San Jose. They’d thought they were off in a semi-private alcove, but evidently not.
“What the hell is this?” Randy asked, though he already knew. It was a fairly simple concept.
He was dating a famous rockstar, and there was the evidence. He’d been caught with his hands down her pants.
His folks would be so proud. They’d been waiting for him to get with the program all these years. Yes, his own parents had called him “square”, but he really didn’t care to break his streak of supposed goodness like this.
“You can’t be that surprised. Your sister is married to a rockstar.”
“She’s married to him, I’m not. I’m not used to the spotlight. If I’d wanted it, I would’ve continued playing guitar and—”
And he was talking entirely too much.
Lila’s gaze sharpened. “You play guitar?”
“Now and then. It’s a hobby.”
“He’s really good,” Juliet offered.
For the first time ever, he gave her a look meant to silence her. Normally, he couldn’t get enough of the sound of her voice. Now? He craved silence.
He didn’t bring attention to himself, ever. Couldn’t imagine a scenario where he would want to. That stupid Cher show a million years ago had put the final nail in his performing coffin. He much preferred working behind the scenes. Helping Juliet to shine as she was meant to.
But he’d never gotten notice for his sexual talents before. That was new.
“Interesting.” Lila’s phone buzzed and she rose. “I have to go, but I just wanted to say keep it up. Don’t be shy. Do whatever you need to.” She gave them a breezy smile as she walked to the front of the bus. “Everyone eats up young love.”
The instant the bus doors closed behind her, Molly sat up from where she’d been compressed into a pretzel formation on a pristine purple mat. “Does she really think anyone buys that horseshit?”
“Yes, she does. Try having her as your stepmother.”
Sparks glanced up as Mal wandered to the coffeepot. And choked.
For the first almost twenty-five years of his life, he’d rarely seen any bare male asses other than his father’s, except in the occasional locker room or in porn. Now in under a month, he’d seen Tristan’s and Malachi Shawcross’s.
Only one of those two had he been okay with seeing.
“Put some pants on, you jerk.” Juliet thumped Mal in the back without even turning to face him. Maybe he’d clipped her in the ear with his swinging trunk.
Jesus. Yeah, Randy was just fine with his much calmer roadie bus.
