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“Oh, I don’t think so. I also think you bruised his wittle feelings pretty good. He’s going to want revenge. It’ll probably hurt.” Mal sounded positively gleeful. “Just consider that some free advice from your pal Mal.” When she only glared at him, he smiled. “Actually, no. Better not say we’re friends.” He gestured to his groin, prominently on display as always in his tight jeans. “You might want to hop on here next.”

She flipped him the bird and pocketed the keys before hightailing it off the bus, his warning fresh in her mind.

Chapter Five

If he had to answer one more question about the inspiration for “Goodbye” he was going to stuff a microphone down someone’s throat. Maybe Mal’s. Possibly a morning personality’s. It was a toss-up.

Ryan peered out the rainy window of the main living space of the bus. Denver had pulled her curtains down to block her off from the rest of them. One thing she didn’t do often—well, except the last four days.

And it was all his fucking fault.

He’d known better and he still couldn’t keep his shit in check when it came to Denver. That night had been amazing and awful at the same time.

The bruises on his ribs were fading, but the scratches on his forearms? He glanced down and fisted his hands as he flexed the muscles there. Colorado’s kitty claw marks just wouldn’t fade.

And fuck, the nights were worse. Knowing what she tasted like and smelled like was bad enough, but the way she’d gloved his cock? That was the part that killed him.

A kiss, he could put out of his mind. Not easily, but he could do it. Being inside a woman—one who wasn’t just a recreational fuck—was always messier. Add in how spectacular it had been and he was so damn screwed.

He let out a harsh laugh. All-around screwed.

Jules dropped next to him on the couch. “I was thinking about cover songs for tonight.”

Ryan gave her a side-eye. “What about it? I’m not the one who sings.”

“But you can.”

He sighed and turned around in his seat so he faced her. “Only if I want to listen to Mol pout for the next several months.”

Juliet laughed. “I was thinking duet.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Not really into rocking the duet with Mol.”

She curled her feet under herself as she tucked into the corner of the couch near the front of the bus. “This isn’t a duet. It just needs some male vocals added to Molly’s to really make it work.”

He turned away from the window. “I’m listening.”

“‘Every Rose’.”

“Poison?”

She nodded. “I love that damn song, and since everyone’s been so goddamn prickly lately…well, it’s perfect, right?”

He glanced toward the sliver of gray light and caught the curve of Denver’s shoulder. She’d stripped out of her trusty hoodie and was just wearing one of her tanks again.

Golden skin with nothing marring it.

And now he knew she smelled the same as the honey tone of her skin. Fuck.

Stop looking at her, asshat.

He tore his gaze away and focused on Jules. “Run it by Molly and we’ll see if she has a meltdown or not.”

“Awesome!” She slapped his thigh. “I can’t wait.”

He flicked his phone to life and untucked his earphones from his collar. He wore them on the bus most of the time. After a while, a guy got over the thwack of a half dozen tires running over asphalt.

He found the video on YouTube and the familiar ballad filled his ears. The slow, sultry strings of the acoustic bled into his brain. He didn’t pay attention to the old video. He’d seen it a million times, but it was the words that made the song.

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