That left one obstacle, and the one that had the most potential to turn his life on its head—Rafe. He glanced at his supposed one-night stand, fluttery sensations in his chest as the desire overtook him. He resisted the urge to groan, not with need but with frustration, because, bloody hell, how was he supposed to manage weeks on the road with Rafe, the man who was supposed to be a one-and-done or a holiday fling at the very most?
His heart ached at the thought.
13
The four days flew by in no time. It helped that he was busy morning till night with a god-awful number of last-minute activities, from arranging someone to keep an eye on the house, to final fittings of his trademark custom leather pants and tailor-made jeans, to a haircut—because there was no way in hell he’d trust anyone but Anita to touch his crowning glory. She’d been weaving her magic for years and would have his balls if he allowed anyone else to even wave a pair of scissors near his locks.
Rafe hadn’t spent much time with Parker, because he’d been so focused on his brother. Rafe wasn’t sure if he was trying to make sure Harvey was okay physically or mentally—probably both. Surprisingly, Harvey seemed to be doing all right, at least as far as Rafe could tell, but between the watchful eyes of Parker and Ravi, he’d hardly got a look in. Rafe wasn’t sure if he was glad for no alone time with Parker or disappointed, but he’d have time enough over the coming weeks to see the object of his obsession—because that’s what it was. He couldn’t get the guy out of his mind. Whether it was watching him prep for their performance, listening to him working his magic on the guitar, or observing him taking care of Harvey—Parker grew in Rafe’s esteem. Fuck, the guy was amazing. And distracting. Way too distracting.
Rafe couldn’t afford to let the ball drop on this opportunity, and it seemed he’d finally found his kryptonite. Who’d have thought it’d be a slender, pale, auburn-haired man with big green eyes, a cute smattering of freckles, and a tenacious and loyal personality that’d bring him to his knees?
Speaking of red-headed hotness, Parker crossed the business class lounge, and Rafe’s heart rate notched up a beat or two. Parker’s gaze fell on the empty seat beside Rafe before he detoured and dropped into the leather seat beside Gibbo. The excitement turned to disappointment, another sign he needed to get over this… this crush, or whatever the hell it was. For fuck’s sake, they were headed to LA, then to a rock festival; he should be excited about the chance to meet people who would help them make a name for themselves on the international scene, not to mention a trip full of parties and fucking around. He gave himself a mental shake.Rafe Moreno doesn’t moon over pretty boys.
“Okay, guys, we’re all set.” Nigel threw himself in the seat beside Rafe. Yeah, not exactly the person he wanted there. “Boarding in half an hour, then fifteen hours of airborne torture before we land at LAX. There’s no turning back, now so I hope you haven’t forgotten anything. Don’t forget to set your clock to Pacific time, drink plenty of water”—that said while he eyed the tumbler of amber liquid in RG’s hand despite the fact it was only ten in the morning—“and remember to get up and stretch during the flight. We need to minimise the jet lag and the DVT risk.”
RG snorted. “We’re in business class, man, so it could be a hell of a lot worse.”
“Yeah, well, do yourself and us a favour and lay off the booze.”
“Whatever.” RG shrugged and brought his drink to his lips.
Rafe took a last swig of his coffee and placed the cup on the table, deciding to cut back on the caffeine.Maybe I can sleep the flight away?There was no way he wanted to spend the next fifteen hours watching movies or listening to the guys crap on. He knew exactly what would happen on the flight. RG would flirt mercilessly with the cabin crew and make continuing his membership of the mile-high club his mission. Gibbo would be antsy, never settling on a plane—watching a movie, requesting refreshments, reading, blanket on, blanket off, tossing and turning, wanting to have a conversation. It was a bloody shame they hadn’t managed to secure a first-class flight, because business class or not, he’d most likely have to sit near one of them. He prayed for peace and for sleep and an uneventful flight—dozing right through to LA would be perfect.
Thank Christ the flight was called not long after, and he hefted his carry-on, following the guys to the plane. The quicker they got this show on the road, the quicker they’d be arriving at their destination. He ignored the curious stares and mumbles of other passengers as they made their way past the first checkpoint, where the airline staff at least had the experience and professionalism to ignore their celebrity status.
Once at the door of the plane, he handed the flight crew member his boarding pass.
After a brief glance at the piece of paper, he looked up with a wide smile. “Good morning, Mr Moreno. It’s nice to have you on board.”
“Morning.”
He ran his eyes over Rafe, more than a cursory glance, leaving no doubt as to what he was thinking. The fluttering eyelashes backed up Rafe’s assessment. “I look forward to looking after you on your flight.”
I bet you do.“Thanks.” Rafe kept his voice flat.No point in encouraging that.He held back a smile though, because no doubt RG would give the poor guy a run for his money in the flirting stakes.
“Your seat is to the right through here.” He held out an arm to indicate the way, and Rafe pushed past. He knew the drill and headed straight towards his window seat. He’d only gone a few paces when he stopped in his tracks, realising what he’d done—he’d ignored the flirting and dismissed the flight attendant.Since when do I do that?He shook his head. This flight couldn’t get off the ground fast enough.
Once at his allocated seat, he gathered the things he’d need for his flight. A Kindle, his iPad, a sweater—
“’Scuse me.” Gibbo shoved past to the row in front, followed by RG.
Rafe looked over his shoulder. Nigel was at the seat behind, a crew member helping him lift his carry-on into the overhead locker. Parker was patiently waiting to pass. Their eyes met.Damn!He suddenly realised who’d be sitting next to him on the flight. For fifteen hours. Fifteen hours to sit next to Parker and not let him wiggle into his heart any more than he already had. But the devil on his shoulder whispered…you can have a bit of fun, right?Think of it like a holiday fling.Holiday fling? Maybe.While the crew gave their safety demonstration, Rafe allowed the fantasy to develop. Why not enjoy the next couple of weeks?
As the plane started to reverse, he sipped his obligatory business class champagne and turned to Parker, who’d settled in the spacious seat next to him but had yet to say a word. The guy looked white as a sheet—even whiter than his usual pale complexion. Even his freckles had blanched.
“Are you okay?” Even as he asked the question, he remembered the quick-fire exchange of personal information when they’d first met.Didn’t Parker say something about hating to fly?
“Sure.” The slight delay before he’d answered and the tight grip he had on the armrests told another story.
“Anything I can do?”
“No.”
Parker glanced at Rafe briefly before focusing on the back of the chair in front. Rafe saw the tension around his eyes.
“More champagne or may I take your glass?” The flight attendant, with her tight bun and perfect makeup, addressed Rafe, tray balanced on one hand as she leaned in.
“No more, thanks, I’m all good.” He passed over the glass.
