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CHAPTERTWO
Is this really happening?
I’m on Van Claybourne’s tour bus.
Are you kidding me?
The moment was surreal. After six months of wishing and hoping and dreaming but not meeting him, she randomly wound up at the same gas station as him?
I can’t believe it. It’s Van Claybourne.
And he’s getting a blowjob right in front of me.
Once it registered—the groans, the women’s hips swaying, their breasts jiggling—Della’s spirits plummeted.
He was exactly how the paparazzi depicted him, all lazy-lidded, debauched rocker.
But the pictures with his dogs…the musical instruments and fancy cheeses…the stacks of books…gah. It was hard to reconcile the private man she’d felt like she’d gotten to know in his home with this public one. She’d been so sure he just slapped on the rock star persona to boost sales.
He caught her watching, and she went icy-cold.
His legs spread wider, giving the women more room to service his body, and then…
He winked.
The cute gesture dispelled the tension and disappointment, making Della smile.
Oh, well. So much for her soulmate.
It’s still a great gig.
Striding right past him, she held up her hand for a high five. He slapped her palm.
And then she went upstairs and chose a bunk.
Della awakened to a shitstorm. Her phone pinged so many times in a row, she sat up with a jolt and slammed her head against the ceiling of her coffin-like living space. She had to blink the sleep from her eyes to read the list of chores Martin’s assistant had sent in an email.
Throw me into the deep end, why don’t you?
It was okay, though. She was born for this kind of work.
First things first, they wanted her to buy two first-class tickets from Salt Lake City to Seattle. Using the passenger information they provided, she got it done, then texted the receipts to the travelers.
Before she tackled anything else, though, she needed coffee. Dropping out of her bunk, she listened carefully. The bus had stopped moving around three in the morning, and the lovers had taken their show to the master bedroom around the same time. Since she figured the trio would sleep late, it was probably okay to head down and make herself a pot.
She climbed down the stairs and padded into the kitchen to find it empty. Excellent. No driver either, so she assumed he was sleeping, too. Dropping a pod into the coffee maker, she rooted around the refrigerator, looking for milk. Noting the cold temperature, she bumped her fists together. Nice job.
She found the creamer among the fancy contents of sparkling water, cheeses, and fresh squeezed orange juice. Not what she’d expected for a rock band, but she supposed it made sense.
From behind one of the closed doors, she heard giggles and a low moan.
So much for me-time. She’d have to take her coffee back to her bunk. But before she could stir the cream and sugar, Van said something in his deep, sexy voice, and the women giggled. The door flew open, and last night’s guests sauntered out.
“Morning.” As Van’s assistant, she assumed she should take care of them. “Can I get you some coffee?”
“Oh, no, thanks,” the brunette said. “We’ve got a flight to catch.”
Ah. So, that’s who she’d booked the tickets for.
