“I already told Sean there weren’t any groupies.”
“Yeah, but we don’t want to believe you.”
“Is he out with you tonight?”
“He is.”
Dean looked down at the dusty parking lot and scuffed the toe of his boot against a small pocket of dirt. “He in a good mood?”
Matt laughed and his voice shifted, like he’d moved his voice away from the phone receiver a bit. “Dean wants to know if you’ve told the Colonel about your tour.” He moved the phone back to his mouth. “That would be not yet. So yeah, he’s in a good mood. He’s got a hot babe in his lap.”
A feminine protest came through the phone line no problem and Dean shook his head.
Matt didn’t seem deterred. “What? You’re totally hot. And a babe. And—” He broke off, laughing. “Okay, I gotta go. No parties at your house, I promise. And we want a groupie report soon!”
“No groupies. Not that kind of tour.”
“Bang the hot singer, then.”
The right response to that wasGo home, Matt, you’re clearly drunk,orStop thinking with your dick, asshole. Stuttering silence was a dead giveaway.
Dean was already cursing himself when Matt started howling. “Oh Jesus. You did. You fucking dog. Yes. Man, I’m so proud—”
He hung up the phone. He couldn’t have that conversation with his brother.
Because that wasnotwhat it was.
Even if it was a hook-up—which the thought of made his stomach flip uncomfortably—he’d never crow about it. He didn’t do that. Ever.
His brothers needed to have their heads knocked together.
But the conversation still made him uneasy in a new and worrisome way, because he also didn’t ever get involved with a woman without some clear parameters.
And if one thing was super fucking clear, it was that with Liana, he had zero boundaries. Like being in her orbit stripped him bare of all defences. Before they did any more kissing, they needed to talk.
Chapter Fifteen
THEY barely gotanother second alone together for nearly forty-eight hours.
They drove all day to get to the show in Knoxville. The entire trip, Liana was aware of Dean’s presence in a brand-new, super intense kind of way.
As soon as they arrived, she had a sound check, then a meet and greet.
Her cheeks hurt from smiling by the time Dean swung open the door to her dressing room. No sooner had she stepped inside than the wardrobe assistant followed her in with her clothes for the night, and behind her came the make-up artist to retouch her face.
She made a face at Dean in the mirror over their heads as they bustled around, and he held her gaze, his mouth curving into an amused grin.
He hadn’t shaved. A few more days and he’d have a full-on beard.
She liked that. She should tell him how much, before he went and did something foolish like shaved it off.
He lifted one eyebrow.What are you thinking about?
Her cheeks flamed. “Hey, can I have the room for a minute?” The crew members looked up, surprised. “Just like five minutes. Three. Feeling kind of stressed out with the bustling.”
It was a total diva move that normally she’d apologize for, but as soon as they were out of the room, Dean had her backed up against the counter, his mouth on hers, and she didn’t care.
“Stressed out?” he asked against her lips.
