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“I feel so stupid,” she whispers.
We’re talking about her dad. I know that, but my gut still aches.
I want her to see me. Want her to take an interest in me, too, even though it’s unreasonable and selfish and not why she came all this way. This isn’t about me, not one bit, but I could howl with how badly I need this girl to notice me.
So ridiculous. A famous rock star, itching for attention?
I need a good slap.
“You’re not stupid.” It comes out wrong, way too harsh, but London doesn’t flinch. She gazes up at me, lips parting. “You’re brave. You took a chance and came all this way in the hope of building something important. You put yourself out there, London, and that will never be stupid. Even if it backfires, you’ve already won.”
It’s a longer speech than I’ve given in weeks, but it’s worth it for the relieved smile she gives me.
“This must be hard for him too,” she says, the words halting, like she’s trying to internalize them. Trying not to be too hurt by her dad’s dismissal.
Fuck, she deserves better. Better than Jefferson’s half-hearted interest, and I’d scoop out my own insides for a chance to take care of this girl. To do the job right.
“Tomorrow is a new day.” It’s trite, but it’s all I can think of to say, and it must help because London nods and settles back again with a small smile. Hell, why not trot out a few more cliches if they’ll help? “You’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep. Things will look different in the morning.”
Our car weaves through late night traffic, silvery rain streaking past the tinted windows; the engine rumbles, and the heater wheezes out stale, warm air that fogs the glass.
London snorts. “If your rock career fails, you could write fortune cookies, Mr Kincaid.”
I frown out of my own window, fighting a smile.
Doesn’t sound so bad.
Especially if London was there.
Five
London
Three weeks later
It’s a rare night off, and that means one thing for these guys: music, pizzas and whiskey in the biggest hotel suite available. In a few hours’ time, they’ll go out to the most famous bar in this city and let the local beauties try their luck, but for now, we’re all here, eating slices and hanging out in Jefferson’s living area.
I stopped calling him Dad five cities ago, even in my brain. It doesn’t fit, no matter how badly I want it to.
Trying to convince myself that I’m not too sore about that.
“Turn that shit off.” A rumpled cushion sails overhead, tossed by the drummer West, his beefy muscles rippling under his frayed gray tank. “Fucking indie pop.” With his long fair hair and puppy dog eyes, West is like a golden retriever—if you could train a dog to pound the drums with flawless rhythm.
The cushion bounces off the shoulder of a songwriter who’s working with the band on their next album, but the man ignores the attack, scrolling through his phone where it’s hooked up to a small speaker.
“You can’t ignore every other genre of music,” Tudor says serenely. A mop of dark curls and a white button-down shirt and red tie make the songwriter seem tame, but when you watch him for more than a few minutes, his savage side creeps through. Bleeds around the edges like spilled ink. “Who knows? You might even learn something. Could give Run Along Ruby ticket sales a kick up the ass.”
West scoffs. “We’re sold out, asshole.”
It’s easy to let the bickering float over my head. I’ve heard it all before by now, and it’s weirdly comforting, but I don’t need to hang on every word. I peel off a slice of pepperoni from one of the boxes on the coffee table instead, settling back into the couch cushions that keep trying to swallow me whole.
A door swings open across the suite.
My breath catches, and I force my eyes down to the polished floorboards.
Be cool. What would Dex Kincaid say if he noticed me panting after him like this?
I mean, he’s my father’s best friend. He’d probably be horrified to learn that I think of him like—like that. With my toes curling and cheeks heating, and a whole swarm of butterflies in my chest. Every time I look at this man, my thighs squeeze together, clamping down on nothing. My body’s gone rogue.
