Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 98823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
This whole stupid mess was my fault, and I watched him stalk away, eyes never leaving him until he crawled into his bunk and drew the curtain with more force than necessary. My penance for squashing his irrepressible sunshine was multiple episodes of the bridesmaid show on the way to Chicago. Keeping my head down, I used my phone to catch up on work-related emails, vet a few resumes, scroll the news, and otherwise fail to distract myself from how badly I wanted to go to Ezra.
My usual addiction to the news did nothing to ease my churning brain, nor did penning line-by-line instructions for Harley on interviewing a few promising candidates, so I broke down and started rehearsing an apology speech for when we stopped for food. Kate had arranged an early lunch at a historic place famous for homestyle foods, and Ezra was first to bound off the bus, practically sprinting to the cramped private dining room reserved for us. By the time I made it into the place, he was seated between Kate and his favorite roadie, deep in conversation, and there went my chance. The food might as well have been plastic for all I enjoyed it
Then our arrival in Chicago was a flurry of getting ready for the first of two planned shows. Traffic delays meant a late check-in at the hotel, and Kate followed Ezra and me to his suite to ensure he was ready to turn around and leave for the sound check. Another lost opportunity to talk, and Ezra wouldn’t even meet my eyes, so my mood was trash when we arrived at the venue. No time to mope though. Venue staff to meet with, security plans to go over, emergency procedures to review, and a complicated layout to memorize as I scanned for potential problems.
But finally, everything was as ready as it could be, and I had a few minutes to sneak over to Ezra’s dressing room. I even went to the trouble of sneaking down a back hallway to reach him, moving quietly as if the place were full of trip wires.
“Ezra?” I whispered, but his dressing room was distressingly empty. Fuck. My stomach churned. I didn’t want to ask Kate his whereabouts, but I had no choice but to hunt him down and verify his safety. My roiling gut, however, wasn’t as concerned with potential kidnappings or other dangers. Rather, the possible chance of finding Ezra with someone else had my hands clenching tightly as I searched. I had no claim to him, and he was the hottest rock star on the planet. Who wouldn’t want a pre-show fuck with him?
Including me. My traitorous body was more than happy to volunteer for the job while my unreasonable heart held out hope he wouldn’t roll so fast into another hookup. And when I finally found him hanging out in an alcove near the lighting booth, I couldn’t help how my loud exhale echoed in the small space. Or the way my relief and anger mingled, coming out in a gruff rumble.
“What are you doing up here?” I demanded.
“Nothing.” He shrugged, doing his best insolent teen impression. “Needed to burn some energy, saw a flight of stairs and decided to see where it led. That a problem, Lieutenant?”
“Yes,” I ground out. “I’m your security, remember? You decide to wander the halls, you tell me first.”
“So I can drag you along?” He gave a long-suffering sigh, but his eyes were soft, a vulnerability there that made me gentle my reply.
“You’re not dragging me into anything.”
“Oh?” He tilted his head, eyes hooded, and I wanted to kiss him so bad. My chest had transformed into a chocolate shell, one wrong move away from either melting or shattering. So damn fragile, not to mention risky, out in the open like this, but lord, I wanted.
“I want to be here.” Each word had gravity, pulling him closer until he laid a hand upon the center of my chest, standing eye-to-eye with me.
“Sure could have fooled me today.”
“Sorry.” I strained, listening for the sound of steps. We had to be minutes from someone arriving to man the light booth. With near painful regret, I gently returned his hand to his side. “I simply wanted to keep it professional.”
“I’m not going to blab.” The hurt was back, there in the thin line of Ezra’s mouth and the determined set of his jaw. Eyes narrowing, he took a step back. “That’s not my style. But I’m telling you, people are going to notice we’re not friends.”
“What do you mean?” Not reaching for him was a mosquito bite that grew worse and worse the more I tried to ignore it. But this was one itch I couldn’t let myself scratch. Not here.
“I’m friends with everyone.” Ezra spread his hands wide. “You acting like you have an allergy to me will be far more noticeable than us watching TV or sitting together.”