Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“That’s awesome.” Rowe’s smile was genuine… and a little wistful. “I love hearing about someone who decides to just go for the thing they want. And Zane succeeded.”
“Yeah. He’s worked hard, and I’m happy for his success. But…” I took another sip of my coffee and tried to determine how much I could share. “Once he started getting some airplay, Zane’s agent and record label hooked him up with this PR company, and they decided he needed a total image overhaul. ‘Rock stars are edgy. You’re too sweet and clean-cut.’”
“Ooof. And now you need to bail Zane out. No wonder you weren’t super enthusiastic when I played you the song.”
“I love Zane’s music,” I said quickly.
“No, I get it. You just love your friend more, and you’re worried they’re trying to change him.” Rowe chewed his lip thoughtfully for a moment. “Seems silly to me. Zane’s already got that raspy voice, and those poetic lyrics, and those broody, soulful eyes.” Rowe’s own eyes got a little shiny and dreamlike. “A bad-boy image seems like overkill.”
A curl of emotion slithered through my gut, and it took me a second to recognize it as jealousy. I wasn’t normally a jealous person, but the idea of introducing Rowe to model-gorgeous Landry and talented Zane made me want to shove the curly-haired angel behind me and hiss at anyone who came near. To mark him up with a giant hickey or a T-shirt that said Property of Sebastian Dayne. Something subtle like that.
Jesus, my friends would give me shit forever if they realized I felt this way. And Rowe would…
Well, Rowe would be very confused since it wasn’t like that between us, and I didn’t want it to be.
Did I?
I cleared my throat. “Zane was playing a show in Philly, and he and Landry ended up trashing a hotel room somehow. I’m gonna try to talk some sense into him.”
“Right.” Rowe tried and failed to hide his grin behind his coffee cup. “So you decided to bring Sterling Chase along to prove how sensible you are?”
I rolled my eyes and stretched my legs out, tilting my head back against the leather seat. Rowe wasn’t wrong. I was sure there’d be hell to pay when my friends saw that I wasn’t alone, and I knew I was only delaying a difficult conversation with Rowe himself. But being with him felt so good I let myself tuck those things away to worry about later.
As we drove south toward Pennsylvania, the sky lightened outside the windows. The space between us on the seat seemed impossibly large, so I shifted a little to get closer to him. When that didn’t ease the aching in my chest, I pulled him closer until he was up against my side with his head on my shoulder and his curls tickling my stubbled chin.
“Thank you for coming with me,” I said, feeling suddenly awkward, like I needed to explain my desire to touch him.
“It’s no problem. Really. Sun’s still not up,” he reminded me with a yawn. “I’m still not a pumpkin. And I’ve never been to Philly.”
Strangely enough, I was able to follow his disjointed thoughts, which should have been a sobering reminder that I’d gotten too close to Rowe too fast—How’s that arm’s-length thing going, Bash?—but when Rowe gave a breathy little snore, I decided that for now, I didn’t give a shit. I wrapped both arms around him and for a moment let my worries fall away.
Morris woke us when we hit the outskirts of Philly a little while later, and I tried to tell myself it was a good thing when Rowe instantly moved away to his own side of the seat. We pulled up to the police station and went inside while Morris waited with the car, and we began the process of collecting my misbehaving friends.
Sure enough, Bruce had sorted the paperwork, and Rowe and I only spent a minute in the dank precinct lobby before Zane came shuffling out of a side door, looking exhausted and cracking his knuckles guiltily.
Landry, who came strolling behind him, didn’t look guilty at all.
“Where’s Kenji?” Landry demanded. His eyes roamed the room like maybe I’d stashed our assistant in a closet somewhere.
“In Florida with his grandmother, which is a little more urgent than saving your ass for the twelfth time this month,” I said sourly.
Landry glared at me—at least as much as a person could glare when their eyes were bloodshot and couldn’t seem to open more than halfway. “So he sent Big Daddy to lecture the riffraff on appropriate comportment for highbrow gentlemen? Delightful.”
“I’m happy to take Zane and let you languish if you can’t be civil,” I warned.
I yanked Zane into my arms for a hug, and he trembled a little. No matter how hard he tried to be a bad boy, to me he would always be the shy, buttoned-up kid from a small town in Georgia who only felt like his true self when he was singing.