Taming the Storm (The Storm 3)

He shifts his stance and shoves his hands into his pockets. He actually looks uncomfortable.

Interesting.

“Because I don’t want to have sex with Shannon. If you didn’t gather, she doesn’t take no for an answer, but she’s a good girl, and I’ve known her for a long time. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, and I knew the only way she would back off was if she thought I was seeing someone.”

Ah…

I actually soften to him.

I know. I could slap myself, too.

“But you could have said you were seeing someone else. It didn’t have to be me.”

He gives me a confused look. “But you were the only other person in the room.”

I let out a laugh. “Tom, for you to be seeing a woman doesn’t mean that she has to be in the room at the time. If you made up a name, I’m pretty sure that would have been good enough for Shannon.”

He shrugs, his lips pressed into a grin. “Kinda didn’t occur to me.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, well, just make sure it does next time, okay?” I lean against the wall, eyeing him. “Do you do that often?”

Mirroring me, he rests his back against the opposite wall. “Do I do what often?”

“Create imaginary girlfriends to dodge having sex with women? You could just tell them no, you know.”

“I’ve never dodged having sex with a woman who has laid it out for me—before today.”

I don’t like the way his admission makes me feel.

“So, why dodge this time? Why not just have sex with her? I thought that was your thing.”

He pushes off the wall and comes close to me again. “Sex is my thing. It just…” He pushes a hand through his hair. “Things just change is all.”

I stare up into his eyes. My mouth is suddenly dry, and my brain is fogged up with the clean scent of his cologne.

“I’ll make sure Shannon knows that we’re not seeing each other.”

His words lift me out of my fog.

“Good.” I straighten my back and step away from him. “And make sure you do it soon. I don’t want Shannon telling other people that you and I are together.”

He follows me forward, closing the gap between us again. “Why is the thought of being with me so bad?”

It’s my turn to lift an eyebrow. “Really? I thought that would be plainly obvious. One”—I tick off on my finger—“this is my first tour, and you’re my tour manager. I don’t want to get a reputation in the industry as someone who tries to sleep her way to the top. Two, you’re my tour manager! And three, I hate beards!”

I don’t actually know why I said that last bit because I don’t really hate beards. I do kind of like the way Tom looks with his.

His expression is wounded as he runs a hand over the growth covering his chin. The sound of his coarse hair scratching against his rough fingers brings a shiver to my body.

“Come on, Firecracker, don’t hate on the beard. I’m going for the roadie look. Don’t you think it’s working for me?”

“No. You look like a hobo.”

He throws back his head and roars out a laugh.

The sound hits me like rapid fire. I feel it in every one of my censored hot spots.

I bite my lip to stop the giggle that wants to escape. “Your hair is okay though. I like it longer.”

“Whoa there, Firecracker. Was that a compliment?”

“No.” My eyes catch his smiling ones.

“So, if I get rid of the beard but keep the hair, would you pretend to be my girlfriend to save me from the Shannons of this tour?”

“Um…” I rub my forehead in thought. “No.”

“Damn.” He chuckles.

I start walking again, and Tom follows.

When we reach the stage door, I turn to him. I’m keen to push the question again, so I can try to get a real answer this time. “Why would you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend to put women off anyway? I thought banging lots of women was your favorite pastime.”

“Like I said, things change.” He shrugs as he averts his eyes, looking down the hallway. “I thought I was the last perfect man.”

“What?”

His face comes back to mine, and he nods down at my shirt.

“Oh, right.” I let out a laugh, smoothing my hand over the picture of Homer. “Nope, not a chance. Homer wins out every time over any man. He’s the ideal.” I flash a cheeky grin.

“Big guts and big butts are your ideal—duly noted. Makes sense to me now why you kept turning me down. Thank fuck that’s cleared up. My ego is now fully restored.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re such a guy.”

“I fucking hope so, Firecracker. With the size of my junk, I’d worry if I wasn’t.”

“Oh my God!” I laugh. “You just can’t help yourself.”

He gives a boyish grin followed by a chuckle and a shrug of his shoulders. I feel that chuckle like a whispered breath over my skin.

Lord, help me.

“You know, Lyla,” he says, his voice lowered, “Henry looks a bit like Homer Simpson. I bet if you stripped him down to his tighty whities, you’d have your ideal man right there.”

I sputter out a laugh, which turns into me choking on my own spit.

Classy, Lyla. Real classy.

“Easy there, tiger.” Tom leans over and pats my back while I hack out a cough. “With it being the first show of the tour and all, we need your vocals in good shape for tonight.”