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Someone snorts in their sleep, the sound muffled by the thin bus walls. Muscles aching, I pillow one arm beneath my head.
Maybe I could write to her.
I could come and visit on the few short breaks between cities—fly back and forth overnight.
And maybe after this is all over, I could relocate to New Orleans…
“Mm.” Resa sighs in her sleep, wriggling closer to press her forehead against my shoulder. Her breath tickles my skin, and she’s so bloody sweet. So innocent.
But no… I can’t leave her hanging in limbo like that. Can’t put her under pressure to settle down with an older man with no current fixed address. How is that fair to her?
Tonight has been a gift. I’ll treasure the memory to my dying day.
But I can’t ask any more of Resa Castillo.
Nine
Resa
Adoor slams somewhere nearby, and I sit bolt upright in bed. Unfamiliar sheets pool around my waist, and as I blink my bleary eyes around the room, nothing makes sense to my addled brain.
Those aren’t my bedroom curtains. This isn’t my mattress. Even the sounds floating into this room are all wrong—distant clattering and chattering, the low rumble of men’s voices and the rhythmic drumming of a shower. Where are the strains of my neighbor’s telenovela?
“Wh-what…”
My voice is thick with sleep, and husky from crying out so many times last night. When Beckett—when we—oh.
That explains the curtains.
“Good morning.” Beckett leans against the wall of his tour bus bedroom, already showered and dressed in a crisp new suit. His arms are folded over his chest, and he’s watching me with an odd expression—like he’s fighting to keep his real feelings off hishandsome face. “The crew are packing up. We’ll be rolling out of here in thirty minutes or so.”
Rolling out, and heading off on the next step of this tour. Carrying on with this crazy adventure, roaming from city to city, putting on shows for screaming crowds every night.
Shows.
Crowds.
Oh, shoot. Have the girls seen my message yet? Were they worried about me? It’s so unlike me, disappearing like that, and I can’t even blame them if theyaremad.
Don’t even know what I was thinking last night, sneaking off to hook up with a strange man. Can’t even make sense of it, except that it was with Beckett and it felt so, so right.
Beckett.The man watching me, his forehead pinched in a frown, like he’s not sure what to do with me.
Is he waiting for me to leave? Eager to politely kick me out? I have zero experience of this, but the sinking, cold feeling in my stomach seems a bad sign.
“Morning.” Yanking the sheets up to cover my bare chest, I force a smile. “Sleep well?”
Beckett makes a noncommittal noise and tucks his hands in his pants pockets. “Do you live far from here, Resa? Can I order a cab to get you home?”
Oof. So it’s over just like that, huh?
My strangled laugh makes Beckett jolt, and he frowns harder as I throw back the sheets and swing my legs out of bed. Screw worrying about my nakedness; screw tiptoeing around this room and trying to dress gracefully. My bedhead is always a complete hedgehog-nightmare in the mornings, and there are still flushed patches on my chest where Beckett sucked rough kisses last night.
Dignity is off the table.
“I’m not rushing you.” Beckett steps to one side, half-blocking the door. “That’s not what’s happening here, Resa.”
Right. “Except you’re leaving in thirty minutes, and you want to order my cab home.Sogentlemanly.”
