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The look Denver shot him over her shoulder had Warning Sign’s keyboardist falling silent. No such luck with said keyboardist’s best friend, however.
“Getting overheated, baby?” he asked under his breath.
“You’re about to cross a line,” she said, just as low. “You’re going to want to tread gently.”
“Oh yeah? And what if I don’t?” He leaned in for a second, so fast she barely had a chance to react. “You going to come all over my mouth again?”
Before she could hiss at him, he moved away and melted back into the bus.
She whipped her head around in time to see a flash of Elle’s boob and swiftly faced forward again. She needed to focus solely on the road. That was what she got paid for. Not only was this job her livelihood, but it had been her redemption too. She’d screwed up by getting involved with Marco. She’d known better, and yet he’d offered her something she hadn’t realized she craved.
Danger. At first a hint, then more. So much more until she was trying to ignore too much. The niggle in her head had become a roar, but it had still taken an act of violence committed right in front of her to make her walk away.
No, run. As fast as she could go. Far from all the trappings of wealth that didn’t truly suit her though she’d been born into a sort of dynasty, spearheaded by one powerful man. She’d been born to one of his less notable siblings, but it didn’t matter. She’d had her own golden spoon, until she rejected it.
That life wasn’t for her. She liked stability and simple living. She also loved that she’d begun to prove to her family that she could set a course and stick to it. Even if it was non-traditional, like driving a bus for a bunch of rockstars. This group had become important to her. Working with them—hell, for them, when it came right down to it—had started out as a job and had quickly become more.
Just like her relationship with Ryan. They’d started off as fast friends, then somehow, before she’d realized it was happening, she’d been spending all her free time with him. He was a guy, but she hadn’t really seen him as anything but a buddy. A hot one, sure. She hadn’t gone blind when she’d moved on from Marco. But still, safely in the friend zone.
They didn’t have sparks. All right, maybe a few every now and then. Just a couple embers to keep things interesting.
Then last night had happened, and now she didn’t know what the hell to make of any of this. She had a feeling that what Ryan had told her in the alley wasn’t the whole story. Unless that was just her past talking, but still. Though he hadn’t exactly seemed open to more questions, he wouldn’t have slept with her just as a diversion.
First, because no dick, no matter how divine, would scramble her thoughts that much, and second, because he’d been so goddamn thorough.
That hadn’t been a phone-it-in kind of sexcapade. She just didn’t get how they’d gone from being buddies who enjoyed talking music and movies and watching the game, to her begging him to fuck her. Some of the details on that part were hazy, so maybe she’d only said it in her head.
No guarantees on that one.
She wasn’t looking for any of this. She wanted to keep her friendship with Ryan intact, and she needed her job for so many more reasons than just a paycheck. The band was her family. Already. The idea of anything messing that up shook her down deep. Especially if she was the one who messed it up because she couldn’t keep her pants on.
There was no way to erase last night. Truthfully, she didn’t want to. She’d learned some important stuff about herself and about Ryan. But they couldn’t sleep together again. Or make crude innuendoes. Or any of that.
Back to business as usual was how it had to be, and once Ryan stopped poking at her, he’d see that too. She was making the only sane choice.
Half an hour later, she parked at the rest area and waited impatiently as everyone who chose to disembark moseyed off the bus. Snail speed seemed to be the most common today. Molly pranced off first, claiming she couldn’t drink any more swill from their coffee maker, and Juliet soon followed, making gestures behind Mol’s back that would’ve made Denver laugh on any other day. Elle and her guy were next, walking arm in arm. They barely separated long enough to go single file down the steps. West and Lo and Michael soon exited as well.
Leaving her alone with Ryan.
She started to swing out of her chair and he blocked her, caging her in. “We need to talk.”
If she met his gaze, she’d be sunk. So she stared out the dingy windshield and made a mental note to attack it with a squeegee later. Sure, she could have one of the crew do it, but she needed to do something physical.
She shifted and winced at the ache in her side. Once the wall bruises healed, anyway.
“We already talked, remember? You made completely inappropriate comments about—”
“Inappropriate? It’s okay if I fuck you, but talking about it is a no-no?”
“Goddammit, none of this is okay. None of it.” She hated that she bowed her head, and worse, that a tremor went through her before she got herself back in line.
She wasn’t this girl. She was strong, independent. Capable of taking zero shit and giving zero fucks.
At least she was now.
“Hey. It’s going to be all right.” He crouched in front of her and braced his big hands on her knees, and God, that was so much worse.
When he trained those perceptive grass-green eyes on her, she couldn’t think. Anything but the truth went out the window, and honesty was so dangerous right now.
