Catch Me When I Fall (Falling Stars 2)

I wished it was that simple.

“Think about it . . . the worst thing that can come of this is a really great record deal for the band,” she urged, prying my hands away so she could meet my eye. “From there? Who knows what else. It’s time, Em. It’s time to let go of what’s holding you back.”

But she was all wrong.

So wrong.

Because the worst thing was that signing with Mylton Records meant I’d be tied to Cory Douglas. Forced into his space.

And I couldn’t imagine a worse fate.* * *I was right.

This was going to be hell.

Sheer, utter hell.

What had I gotten myself into?

I climbed the steps to the bus, holding onto the railing because my legs already felt weak. That feeling only increased tenfold when I made it up to the front living area. I froze at the top.

Everyone was there.

Rhys and Leif.

My brother, who looked at me with some kind of apology that I couldn’t quite interpret.

And Royce.

Royce was sitting on the couch with his long legs stretched out in front of him, furiously tapping away at his phone and still wearing that suit like he didn’t realize we were going to be on this grubby bus for the next six hours.

In my spot, of course.

Mel nudged me from behind. “Um, hello, Em . . . do you think you could keep moving a foot or two or ten? I do have two suitcases, and I’m teetering on a step. Help a girl out, would you?”

“Oh, sorry,” I said, jolting forward a step to get out of her way. Last thing I wanted was to come across as self-absorbed. Not a pretty trait.

But I didn’t get very far.

Because that dark gaze lifted to meet mine, sealing me to the spot. I felt like my feet were glued right there on that floor, unable to move or breathe or do anything but get lost in the raw command of his eyes.

Mel banged her way past me from behind.

“Thanks.” There was no missing the mockery in her tone.

Rhys hopped up like the cavalier champion that he was. “Ahh, Mells Bells, let me help you with that, sweetheart.”

She rolled her eyes. “I made it all the way over here with these, I think I can make it ten more steps.”

“But why would you want to do that when I’m right here?”

“Because then I would owe you something.”

He grinned one of his cocky grins. “Well, I could easily figure out a good solution for that. A three-easy-installment payment plan.”

“In your dreams, cowboy.”

“Cowboy? I’m the stallion, baby.”

She sent me a look. “We are dumping him at the next stop.”

Leif chuckled.

And I just stared as the ramble of voices continued in a haze around me.

I couldn’t process a thing going on.

Not when I was completely caught up in the man who had taken possession of the entire bus, filling it with that energy I couldn’t escape.

I tried to swallow around the feeling laying waste to my insides, and I lifted a defiant chin. “You’re in my spot.”

He quirked a dark brow. “Am I?”

“You are.”

“Huh. Great minds?”

I kinda wanted to slap him. Was he really gonna go after the whole playful bit after what he’d done? I wasn’t about to fall for that façade, either. I had his name.

Snake. Scoundrel. Schemer.

“I think you were just goin’ after the best spot,” I said.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was taken.”

“Well, it is.”

I would have been able to pull off the whole bitch thing a whole lot better if my voice hadn’t been quivering.

But I was going with the whole “fake it until you make it” philosophy. Pretendin’ as if he didn’t affect me at all. That my heart wasn’t somewhere in my throat, and my belly wasn’t doing somersaults.

With a slow, wicked smile, he eased up to standing. So maybe I should have let him remain sitting. Because the man rose to his full, towering height, standing over me with a smirk pulling at one corner of his sexy mouth.

He dipped in lower, his voice only meant for me. “Pardon me, Precious.”

If he called me that one more time, I was gonna snap.

He stepped out of my way so I could get to my spot.

It wasn’t like we had a whole lot of space to keep separated. We had the front sitting area where we usually hung out, a pocket-sized kitchen stocked with snacks and drinks at the ready. In the middle section were the rows of bunks that were stacked three high on each side, and there was a smaller sitting area at the very back that was usually reserved for writing music.

It was a quiet, private place for when we needed to let our creativity bleed free, unhindered by the movies and conversations and mayhem that was usually going down up front.

I should probably exile myself to my bunk. Hide out. It wasn’t like it was that long of a drive. But I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of thinking that his presence was swaying me, either.