“Let me introduce myself. I’m Loretta, but you can call me Rita. The band manager.”
I prided myself on letting nothing catch me off guard. I worked for the Kensingtons and grew up in Pelican Bay. It took a lot to frazzle me, but hearing that she was the band’s manager did it. It also could’ve been the fact that when she opened her mouth enough to speak, I caught the glint of a tongue ring, which had my mind running with thoughts on the different ways that could be useful.
What the hell, Reginald. Even if I found her not only ridiculous but irresistible, I needed to look away from the sparkly mouth piece. So why was it so hard to tear my gaze from her? The woman was nothing like those in New York. At least not the ones I associated with normally. I worked hard to leave my small-town image behind and fit in with the upper-class population in the city. Yet, for whatever reason, I found her spunk refreshing.
And annoying.
There was no time for that. Rita wasn’t my type. I didn’t even like her name… or her nickname. I liked nothing about her. Nothing at all.
“I’m Reginald Peterson. Don’t call me Reggie.” I worked hard to disassociate from the nickname I grew up using. “Pierce sends his apologies, but he will not make it this weekend as planned.”
“Yeah, I heard about the Kensington twins. Let me tell you, I put in the betting pool on who’d get kidnapped next, and those guys were not even on the chart. Everyone at the bakery lost. Katy says next time they’ll make it a bigger playing field and allow write-ins.”
“What in the world are you talking about?” I asked, shaking my head and staring at her, trying to get another peek of her tongue ring.
She slid into the empty seat next to me, and I scowled. She shouldn’t sit there. “The betting pool at the bakery. Don’t tell me you haven’t put into the pot.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m not from Pelican Bay. Well… I’m not from Pelican Bay any longer.” I did my best to forget the fact my parents raised me there for the first eighteen years of my life. Pierce went to college and returned, but I tried to say as far away as possible. If it wasn’t for taking a job to work for Pierce in New York so he could maintain a residence in Pelican Bay, I’d be in California.
“Yet somehow you’re saddled with this dip shit crew, huh?” she asked.
“If you’re the band manager, I would think you’d talk a bit kinder to them.”
She laughed so hard she threw her head back and her mouth flew open her, tongue snaking out so the ring caught the light. “Calm down, old man. I’m Sebastian’s sister.
What?I reared back to her old man remark, realizing for the first time that I had subconsciously leaned closer to her as we’d been speaking. “I’m not old.” Was I?
Loretta let her gaze run up and down my body. If we weren’t on a plane with her brother and the rest of his bandmates, I’d have said it looked as if she was undressing me with her eyes. Her big round blue eyes felt as if they saw right through to my soul and the very secrets I kept hidden.
“Anyone who’s wearing that suit to a music festival is old.”
My mouth dropped open along with my gaze as I took in my suit. It was respectable. Black on black with black. You can’t go wrong with the color choice.
“Just because I have respectable taste in clothing doesn’t make me old.” The words were out before I could stop them and I bit my tongue, shocked by my comments. “I’m so sorry,” I started to say, but she cut me off with a laugh.
It wasn’t a soft and sweet laugh like most women used but a boisterous one—a full-force chuckle as if I was the funniest thing she’d seen in the entire world. That irritated me. I didn’t want to be funny. Reginald Peterson was charming and handsome. Dignified. Rich.
I’d partake in a multitude of identifiers, but funny wasn’t one of them.
A woman had never laughed at me. Anyone I worked with or dated knew exactly who I was and what I brought to the table, but something warned me Loretta didn’t care about my money or status in New York.
As I searched for what to say, her hand flew up in the air and then landed on my knee in a slap. “I like you, Reggie. You’re my project for this trip.”
The pilot closed the plane’s door and the buckle seatbelt light came on at the exact moment I experienced second thoughts. This quick weekend trip no longer resembled the safe option out of the city I craved but a direct flight to my doom.
“I’m not a project.” If anyone needed help, it was the woman with blue hair and polka dotted sunflower dress. How in the world did she expect to help me? Certainly not with fashion.
My words caused her to laugh harder.
“Buckle up, friend. It’s a long ride to Colorado.”
2
“Are you sure they’ll like this place better?” I asked as Loretta led us down the sidewalk of Main Street in Bear Creek, Colorado. The music festival did not start until the following day, but people filled the streets. They hurried back and forth, sidestepping one another on the sidewalk. The groups of music enthusiasts were friendly as they chatted about which bands they wanted to see the most and the latest gossip about their favorite singers. I caught Loretta’s brother’s name in the wind more than once, but no one stopped our entourage of people as we left our hotel and headed for the establishment.
Loretta turned around, walking backward to look at me as we spoke. The action caused my heart to race. I reached my hand out to steady her, worried she’d fall over and hit her head, leaving me to explain to Pierce why the lead singer’s sister was in the hospital. That and I just didn’t enjoy the idea of her getting hurt. Our short connecting flight to DC and then a longer one to Colorado gave us an opportunity to get to know one another.
Plus, Loretta was what my mother called a talker.
