The sound of a guitar being tuned drew my attention to the makeshift stage. Jenn and Diego had eventually convinced Maya to go to Denver to convince the mystery man she had apparently dated once to join forces with the Wayward Sons at our festival, a story worthy of its own someday.
I watched as Maya led the leather-clad man with tattoosleeves and artfully disheveled hair toward the microphone stand set in the middle of the stage. “Is that …”
“Yup,” said Jenn. “The one and only.” I found myself unable … perhaps unwilling … to pull my eyes away from his colorfully tattooed, sleeveless shoulders.
“This was a bad idea,” Noah growled. “I told him if he ever came back here, I’d kick his ass.”
“Wait,” I said. “You know Axel Ryder? Like, personally?”
“You could say that,” Jenn answered for Noah.
Everyone knew Axel Ryder from the music charts. And the tabloids. And on the evening news. He was one of those stereotypical bad boy rock stars. Money. Fame. And the appetites that came with them.
“Well, I think Axel Ryder is watching you,” I noted, nudging Noah with my elbow. “Or more like glaring at you.”
Noah grimaced. “Let him glare. As long as he stays away from me.”
“Is there a story I should know about?” I asked, curiosity piqued.
“Oh, there’s definitely a story,” said Jenn. “But whether you’d want to know about it … that’s up for debate.”
Before I could press Noah or Jenn to elaborate, Axel hopped off stage and started coming toward us. As Noah curled both hands into fists, Axel scooped Jenn up in a hug, which I noticed she didn’t seem to mind. “Hey there, mountain girl! Still hanging out with this mountain hermit?”
“He’s kind of like a bad habit,” said Jenn. “Hard to get rid of, I guess.”
Axel met Noah’s gaze with a challenging grin. “Speaking of bad habits, you ever dust off that Martin guitar of yours, Barrett? Or is it collecting cobwebs like your social skills?”
Noah’s posture shifted at the mention of the guitar. Like Axel had just pressed on an old wound.
“You told me you didn’t play guitar.” I gave Noah a curious look.
“I don’t know that ‘play’ is the right word,” said Axel with a smirk that carried more history than humor.
“The guitar’s fine, Ryder,” said Noah. “Unlike your ego.”
Axel twirled a guitar pick between his fingers, then clapped Noah on the shoulder with a familiarity that suggested their antagonism masked something deeper. “Good to see you, too.”
“And who’s this?” There was a twinkle in Axel’s eye as he seemed to notice me for the first time.
“Someone smart enough to stay away from you,” Noah answered.
“Samantha Li,” I said, ignoring Noah. “My friends call me Sam.”
“Nice to meet you, Sam.” Axel took my hand in his, then lifted it to his lips. When I glanced over at Noah, he stared at Axel’s hand like he was planning to break every bone in Axel’s fingers.
Axel let go just in time. “Any friend of Noah’s is … well … I’m not sure because he doesn’t have any friends, so we’re in uncharted waters here. Good to see you again, buddy.” Axel gave Noah a good-natured jab in the arm. Noah looked like he wanted to give Axel a different kind of jab. In the face.
As Axel strode back to the stage, Noah watched him go with an expression that mingled irritation with something else I couldn’t quite place.
“You two friends?”
“No.” Noah’s tone left no room for debate, but I caught the way his hands unconsciously flexed. “Not anymore.”
Looking back toward the stage, I saw Maya laughing at something Axel said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear in a gesture I’d never seen from our normally composed resort manager. She looked like a backstage groupie. As we watched,Axel handed Maya his guitar, and she slung it over her shoulder like she’d done it a million times before.
“Maya plays?” I asked, watching her fingers move confidently across the strings.
“Maya has all kinds of secrets,” Noah replied cryptically.
