The Girl's Got Secrets (Forbidden Men 7)

Grinning, I opened my door wide. “Leave my poor drummer alone. He can be whatever the fuck he wants to be. I still think he’s cool as hell.”

“I did have fun talking to him.” He leaned toward me as I stepped out of the car and called, “And just so you know, if he ends up turning you toward men, I’ll still proudly claim you as my brother.”

“Oh...fuck you, man.” I slammed the door on him but still had to chuckle and shake my head as I turned away and unlocked my door.

But really. Couldn’t a heterosexual man just be friends with a homosexual man without everyone assuming shit?

I couldn’t calm my nerves. It was Saturday, we were in Chicago, and we’d be playing in hours—mere hours—in front of a new crowd of listeners, a larger venue, pickier fans who were used to having bigger named bands in their club. And we were getting paid ten times the usual amount.

It was as if we were actually on our way to somewhere!

Asher had rented a van to take the four of us together plus all our equipment, my drum set taking up the most room. It was cramped, and stunk to high heaven—because Heath had a serious gas problem—when we alighted in the city, four hours after being trapped in one vehicle together. I gasped for air as soon as I pushed out the side-sliding back door. But God, as soon as I got into my room at the hotel where we were planning on staying the night before heading back first thing in the morning, I was taking off this mask and fake chest and lying naked on my bed to just...air out.

Behind me, Gally and Heath began to unload their luggage while Asher headed for the front desk to secure our rooms. I stole another moment for myself, glad I didn’t have to listen to Gally degrade women anymore while he bragged about how much pussy he got, or smell any more of Heath’s dirty sock farts.

But Gally just had to go and holler, “Sticks, get your shit already. I’m not hauling your gay-ass luggage around for you.”

I spun to glare at him; my luggage was a plain, boring black. Dios, he was such an ass. But I tromped back to the van, anyway, because I didn’t want his disgusting hands anywhere near my things.

“Sorry, guys,” Asher announced as he rejoined us, flashing two key cards. “Looks like we’re doubling up tonight.”

> My stomach immediately began to swirl. “Say what?”

I’d made it explicitly clear I’d wanted my own room; I didn’t care how much extra it cost me.

But holy shit, this couldn’t seriously be happening. How the hell was I supposed to take my mask off to sleep? Panic clawed at my throat.

“Wha...wha...why are we doing that?”

Asher sent me a small cringe of apology. “We’re too close to Soldier Field, and apparently the Bears have a home football game tomorrow. I got us the last two rooms available.”

I scowled. Stupid Bears. Stupid football. Why, why, why would they do this to me? I was counting on having my own damn room.

Asher tossed a piece of plastic at Gally. “You and Sticks can take 5B. Holden and I will be in—”

“Oh, fuck, no,” Gally exploded. “You’re not bunking me with the queer. What if he crawls into bed with me in the middle of the night and tries to get kinky?”

I snorted. “As if that would ever happen.”

“He’ll see me change,” Gally whined to Asher, completely ignoring me. “And I sleep naked. I don’t want Sticks seeing me naked.”

Him and me both. Now, I was turning toward Asher, my eyes begging. “Please, God, do not stick me with him.”

“Fine.” Asher rolled his eyes big enough to encompass Gally and me together. “You take Heath then. Sticks can room with me.”

Oh, Dios, what?

Me room with Asher Hart?

No! In its own way, that was worse.

I actually wanted to see him naked. Crap, what if I saw him naked? Then I probably would try to crawl into bed with him in the middle of the night to get kinky.

I felt a little sick to my stomach with worry.

But seriously, how the hell was I going to hide the fact I was a girl from someone sharing a room with me?

Oh, fuck. How was I supposed to take off my mask at all during this trip?