“We can if you’re dating Katie Williams—unknown fangirl—rather than Roux Williams—unknown rock star.”
He laughed and drew her in close for a tight hug. “Are you sure Roux won’t be jealous?”
“She’ll be too busy being fabulous to be jealous.”
Jordan cleared her throat, her arms folded over her chest, and her foot tapped against the floor. “Any day now,” she grumbled under her breath.
Roux had wanted to surprise Steve with her idea to lead a double life on tour. She was convinced that no one would ever figure out that Katie and Roux were the same person. She looked totally different in stage makeup and costume. That was how she’d have her cake and eat him up as much as possible. She’d learned long ago that compromise was the best way to get more out of life.
“Call me, text me, send me nude photos,” he said, kissing her several times before drawing away an inch.
“I won’t be totally nude,” she said, giving him a stern look. She smiled when he scowled, and then she lifted her arm to catch the light in the bracelet he’d given her. “I’ll be wearing this.”
“And the panties? I never did get a good look at them.”
“Maybe.” She kissed him once more and then lightly pressed on his chest. “Now go before Jordan taps a hole into the floor with that foot of hers.”
“This foot of mine is about to land squarely in the center of a certain drummer’s backside,” Jordan said. “You promised you wouldn’t dally if I did this for you, Steve.”
Steve held up one finger and then turned to gaze deeply into Roux’s eyes.
“I love you,” he said, his words making Roux soar.
“I love you too.”
The instant he pulled away and she was no longer cocooned in his aura, she felt the loss. She forced herself not to run after him, not to get on the plane, not to give in to what she truly wanted. They had plenty of time to be together. This parting was only temporary. Of course, one never knew when one’s time was up. She fiddled with the bullet on her bracelet. He’ll be safe, she told herself. No one is going to hurt him.
“Wait!” she gasped just before he followed Jordan out a door that led to the tarmac.
She unfastened the bracelet she always wore as she hurried after him. “Here,” she said, pressing the bullet into his hand. “Keep this with you. It will protect you.”
He lifted his brows. “It will?”
Of course it wouldn’t. That was silly, but . . . “I want you to have something of mine.” She pressed her hand to his chest. “Something of me.”
“Your love is enough,” he said, but he squeezed the bracelet into his fist and pressed it against his chest. “But I’ll treasure this and return it to you when I see you again.”
He kissed her once more, and then he was gone. With her forehead pressed against the glass door, she watched him hurry to the plane. Some unseen force tugged at her gut, trying to pull her toward him. Even after he turned and waved and she waved back, that feeling didn’t go away. Nor did it leave her when the jet’s door was shut or even when the plane was taxiing. The link between them was strong, and it was going to be one long fucking week without him.
Twenty-Three
Steve couldn’t stop smiling. Even Zach—who was stuck in a pathetic self-loathing loop—noticed.
“Did you just graduate clown school or what?” Zach grumbled. “All that smiling gets creepy after a while.”
Steve wiped the grin off his face for almost a full second before it returned. “Can’t help it,” he said. “I’m happy. And I know your misery would like some company right now, but too bad.”
A car pulled to a stop at the corner where they were waiting for their Uber, but it didn’t fit the description of their ride.
“You could have left me to wallow in my misery alone,” Zach said.
“You’re not spending another day in my bed. It’s starting to smell like you. Talk about creepy.”
“If you want me to go home, I’ll go home.”
“And where would that be? Did you find an apartment when I wasn’t looking?”
Zach crossed his arms and turned his face away. “I have a place.”
“I’m not going to let you go begging to Enrique for a place to stay,” Steve said.
“If I don’t have anywhere else to go, he’ll have to take me back.” His miserable look was momentarily replaced with a hopeful one.
Steve resisted the urge to punch him. He knew Zach still wanted Enrique, but he needed to get over him and move on. Zach needed someone who would lift him up, not bring him down, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to find that someone moping around Steve’s house. That was why Steve was taking him to the dumb wedding reception rehearsal.
They’d been practicing the songs for a couple of days, so Steve didn’t see the need for an on-site rehearsal. Not that he didn’t like hanging out with his band when he was on a tour break. What was he thinking? He fucking hated it. They needed to get out of each other’s faces for a week or two. He’d much rather be spending his break making a nuisance of himself at Baroquen’s rehearsals in New York. He absently rubbed the bullet dangling around his wrist. He’d had to get a chain extender so he could wear Roux’s bracelet, but he was grateful for the constant reminder of her. He needed to send her something special today so that she knew he was thinking of her.
Their ride finally arrived—driver apologizing profusely for making them wait, but traffic was what it was.
“If you’d let me pick up my bike,” Zach grumbled, “we wouldn’t have to wait or pay for a ride.”
“We tried that, remember?” And Zach had fallen apart at the gate of Enrique’s estate when the ass refused to even speak to him. Zach had completely forgotten his entire reason for going there until it was too late to choose a less desperate strategy. “If someone had picked out something a little less custom for his birthday, we wouldn’t have to wait or pay for a ride either.”
Zach’s birthday wasn’t for another seven weeks, and the bike Steve had gotten him on a whim—mostly to cheer him up, but also to replace the one at Enrique’s house—would probably be delivered after the fact.
“You spoil me, is the problem,” Zach said, smiling for the first time that day.
“Character flaw,” Steve said before he slid into the back seat of the Mini Cooper. His knees were immediately in his face.
“You don’t have to buy people things to get them to love you,” Zach said, flopping the front seat back into Steve’s shins.
Tiny cars and long legs did not go well together. He should have made Zach take an Uber, and he could have ridden his bike, but Zach probably would have gone back to Enrique’s house and had a mental breakdown on the street. There were still photographers milling about the area, and the latest story from Enrique’s publicist was that Zach was some deranged fanboy whose misguided obsession was not returned by the actor. Enrique wouldn’t even admit he knew him. Steve would really like to punch the guy in the balls. Assuming he had any. Fucking coward.
Zach made small talk with the driver while Steve used his phone to order an enormous bouquet of flowers to be sent to Roux. He wasn’t sure if she liked flowers. Maybe he should send her a puppy. He knew she liked those. He settled for mentioning the puppy on the message card and imagined their future life together in his tiny house and surrounded by dozens of rescue pets.
“What are you smiling about now?” Zach asked when he let Steve out of the back of the Mini Cooper at the reception venue. “Let me guess. Roux.”
“I need to get used to calling her Katie,” Steve said.
“She doesn’t look like a Katie. Are you sure you want to hide your relationship? It didn’t work out so well for me.”
“We aren’t hiding it. Just not letting any outsiders know what she
does for a living.”
Zach rolled his eyes. “That’s kind of a big deal.”
“It will be fine,” Steve said.
The guys were all there waiting when Steve entered the room. Their minimal stage setup reminded Steve of their early days before they hit the record charts and could pull a crowd. He had only one bass drum, a snare, and a few toms and cymbals. On what, exactly, was he supposed to expend his copious energy? The set list—which included Elvis, Neil Diamond, Chuck Berry, and even Madonna—reminded him of nightmares he’d had about playing the wrong song in concert before a huge, pissed-off crowd. He still wasn’t sure how they’d been talked into doing this. Curse Dare for being so damned likable. It was impossible to stay perturbed at the guy, even when he made promises to his brother’s bandmates that prevented Steve from enjoying his week off.
Dare looked up from the tuning peg he was adjusting. “Wow, only thirty minutes late.”
“You’re lucky I showed up at all. Don’t you guys have better places to be?”
“I gave Jordan the next week off,” Max said, “so if you need to run off to New York again, you’ll have to fly commercial.”
Steve cringed. That would make it loads easier to stay away from Roux for the next seven days. He hated flying commercial.
“Hey, Zach,” Logan said. “Steve isn’t planning on passing his drumming duties off to you, is he?”
Now there was an idea.
“He’s put me on suicide watch.” Zach grinned. “Doesn’t trust me to be left alone.”
“Don’t even joke about that,” Steve said. “Your task is to help take the metal out of my drumming.”
“Why the fuck would I do that?”
“Because someone has a soft spot for his little brother, which results in lame gigs.” Steve lifted an eyebrow at Dare, who didn’t bother to deny it. “Speaking of your little brother,” Steve continued. “He wouldn’t happen to know a nice guy to get Zach here out of his funk, would he?”
“I’m not looking for a new man,” Zach said before Dare could respond. He went off to sulk in a corner.