Hillbilly Rockstar (Blacktop Cowboys 6)

Devin’s band took the stage under the cover of darkness. Liberty peeked around the corner and saw the two security guards escorting him.

He’d changed into tight jeans with a metallic sheen and a black and silver button-up shirt open to his sternum, revealing a gray tank top. He’d rolled up his sleeves and donned a black cowboy hat. Those tempting curls ringed his face when he put on his hat. She smiled when she saw the same pair of scuffed-up boots he’d been wearing since this morning.

He adjusted his microphone, his earpiece and the strap on his guitar before he said, “Hello, Salt Lake City!” and moseyed to the center of the stage.

The roar of the crowd was deafening. Their reaction gave her goose bumps.

The lead guitar played a riff, the drums joined in and the show got under way.

And what a show it was.

No wonder his concerts sold out. The man was electric onstage. He had a great rapport with his band, making sure they got time in the spotlight. He danced a little. Male strippers had nothing on him—he knew exactly how to move that very fine body for maximum effect. He played a rock cover tune, all his biggest hits, and at one point he stripped it down to him and his guitar, with Tay on background vocals.

In that moment, she understood it wasn’t the spectacle of his stage show that caused that wow factor, but the man himself and his music.

Ninety minutes and two encores later, he exited the stage for the final time. But his night wasn’t over.

Amid the congratulations from the crew for the great show, he headed back to his ready room. Liberty followed behind the security escorts and caught the door before it slammed in her face.

Keeping his gaze on hers, he uncapped a bottle of water and drank deeply. His clothes clung to his body, completely damp with sweat. Then he began unbuttoning his shirt.

Liberty’s mouth went dry at the sight of the sculpted muscles of his shoulders, arms, and chest. Using a bootjack, he removed his boots and his hands went to his belt buckle. “Are you really gonna stand there and watch me strip without sayin’ a word?”

“Are you really gonna strip in front of me and expect me not to watch?” she retorted.

Devin laughed. “First night on tour and you’re already bustin’ my balls. So what’s up?”

“Just wondering if you want me escorting you to the party, or if you’d prefer security. And how long before you’re ready.”

“I need to shower, so you go on. Tell the security guys to stick around.”

She nodded. Just as she reached the door, it opened and a well-endowed blonde paused in the doorway. “Can I help you?”

“I’m supposed to meet Devin here.”

Liberty wondered how often that statement worked for these groupies. Her gaze dropped to the lanyard with the backstage pass. “Sorry. He’s—”

“Very happy to see you,” Devin inserted behind her. “What’s your name again?”

“Eve.”

“Beautiful name, doll. Come on in.” He took her hand and tugged her into the room.

When Liberty spun around to protest that this strange woman, whose name he hadn’t even known, had gained access to him by flaunting her tits, she was momentarily sidetracked by his bare chest. How did the man maintain that physique when he spent most of his time on a tour bus playing guitar?

Devin murmured something to Eve and snaked his hand around her waist. He said, “I’ll see you at the party,” without meeting Liberty’s gaze and shut the door on her.

She wanted to knock until he opened the door again and point out this woman could be dangerous and should be frisked for weapons—but then she realized how ridiculous that sounded. Eve’s outfit defined skimpy.

The security guard to the right smirked at her. “Yes, she’s clean. We checked her. And the five others waiting in line behind her.”

She glanced at the ladies glaring at one another from various spots in the hallway. “Just make sure he makes it to the party after he’s done.”

Liberty cautioned herself against a morality judgment. He was a guy who used his celebrity for easy sex—no different from most of the men in the public eye.

What she didn’t understand? Why some women were so eager to drop to their knees for a guy they didn’t know. Did they brag to their friends about giving a celebrity a blow job? Did they think they were so good at sucking c**k that a guy like Devin would fall in love with them? She snorted. Men weren’t picky about blow-job technique. Any woman who put a dude’s dick in her mouth was good at giving head.

“Hey, Liberty, wait up.”

She stopped and faced Odette.

Odette hadn’t changed clothes; she still wore the iridescent skirt and sequin tank top from the performance. “I wanted to apologize for earlier this morning. I was rude to you. I’m sorry.”

Liberty started walking. “Apology accepted.”

“It’s just . . . I’ve known Devin a long time.”

The way she emphasized known meant one thing. “How long were you and Devin together?”

She blushed. “A year. Being in close quarters on tour and thinking we were in love is something that a lot of musicians go through with other musicians. I’ve been with Steve for five years now. So we’re proof that on-the-road romances don’t always end in disaster.” Odette looked around. “Where is Devin?”

“Taking the edge off in his ready room.”

She stopped again. “You’re okay with him banging a groupie on the first night of the tour?”