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“Got it. And then you’ll both be back on the bus after the show?”
“Yes, we’re driving to Vegas tonight.” Bex reached for the lever to open the bus doors and nodded for her to head down the stairs. When he hit the pavement, he said, “But since we want to keep you and Scat, Van has to do his entertaining in a hotel suite from now on. He’ll be back on the bus by one.”
He lifted his boot to tap something beneath the bumper, and the bus doors closed in a whoosh. Together, they crossed the asphalt to the waiting SUV. “What happens when you’re in one city for a couple of nights? Do you both get hotel rooms?” That wasn’t the question she really wanted to ask. But whether he partied with fans was none of her business.
“No. Homebody, remember? I don’t want to constantly pack and set up my work in new places.”
She slid across the seat. “How on earth do you keep the twin thing a secret? It makes no sense.”
“We’ve had a lot of time to work it out, and we each know our roles. I try to make it as clean and simple for him as possible.”
“Are you the older one?”
“No, he is. My mom thought she was having one baby, but twenty minutes later, I popped out.”
“Well, the way you look out for him, you sure act like the oldest. Does it ever bother you that he gets all the attention?”
“Nope.” He stretched out his long legs, his powerful thighs straining against the fabric of the worn Levis. “I like it this way.”
“I’m not so sure he does.”
“What does that mean?”
When he got all protective like that, it excited her. She’d never had a serious boyfriend—just hadn’t connected with anyone on that level—but she’d always longed for that kind of ride-or-die relationship. She wanted the kind of fierce loyalty Bex had with his brother. “No, it’s just…I saw his box of photographs, and we got to talking. It seemed like he’d rather be taking pictures than…”
Bex’s expression darkened.
Wrong thing to say.“Never mind. What do I know? I’ve been here all of three minutes.”
“No, you’re insightful. You obviously picked up on something.”
Whew. Okay. She’d thought he was pissed at her for thinking she knew his brother better than he did. “I told him how much I loved the Bucket of Blue cover, and he got a little testy. It just seemed like, underneath the whole rock star persona, there’s this guy who wants out. Who maybe wants to spend his time taking pictures.”
“It’s been a long tour, but as soon as it ends, he’ll have at least six months to relax, surf, hike, whatever he wants. He’ll get recharged.”
“Of course.” She’d drop the subject before she took it too far.
It was none of her business anyway.
Standing at the side of the stage, Della took care of a few issues with the merchandise order while at the same time handling contract changes with a lawyer.
Someone bumped into her, and she realized she was in the way, so she climbed down the stairs, leaned back against the stage, and continued texting. Behind her, a roadie plugged in an amp, making it screech, and wires slithered on the stage as technicians taped them down.
Half of her brain was tuned into Bex because he was such a hot boss man, speaking with authority and total competence. She’d never have imagined being so turned on by a businessman. Being a poet herself, she’d always been drawn to artists.
“Hey,” Bex called. “Can you cut this beam angle? It’s too harsh.”
“You got it,” the lighting technician shouted from the catwalk.
“Ready with mic one,” someone said.
Della was getting push-back from the lawyer, and Bex had told her not to give an inch, so she was texting her response when the deepest, richest, most beautiful voice in the world filled the stadium.
It was Van. Which made no sense because the twins never showed up in the same room. Pushing off the stage, she turned around to check it out.
But it was Van. Which meant they must feel safe around their roadies and crew.
He wore the usual worn jeans and white T-shirt, his shoulders so broad it pulled the fabric taut. Eyes closed, he belted out one of her favorite songs. The one she’d told him about.
