The nail tech glances at me and then grimaces before moving on to another finger. The things these people probably hear.
“I’m not sure what you’re referring to. I just met him.”
“This is so out of character for him…” She glances at her wedding ring, lost in thought.
Confusion wrinkles my forehead. “Taking a girl to Vegas?”
She blows a curling piece of hair out of her face. “Talking to you in general. He’s taken a shine to you. He’s usually so—”
“Cold?” I offer.
Charlotte puckers her lips. “I don’t like that word, but something like that. He doesn’t like interviews or meeting fans. He’s an introvert and it’s hard for him to date. Especially after that last girl. She was…well…” She sniffs and shakes her head. “He should probably tell you about that. I just don’t want him to get hurt.” She offers me a kind smile. “For either of you to get hurt. No offense but, you don’t seem like the type to—”
“Just fly to Vegas with someone I met not twenty-four hours ago?” I close my eyes. “Hard for me to believe he talked me into coming on this trip. But something about him made me say yes.”
“He’s good at that. It’s his eyes. Ben thinks Sully can compel people with a stare, but my husband also thinks our house in Germany is haunted, so it’s hard to believe him.”
Charlotte’s nail tech finishes her left hand and moves to her right. “Just promise me you’re not using him. It’s bad enough our PR rep tries to push him into situations he doesn’t want to be in; my heart can’t stand seeing Sully go through the heartbreak all over again and—”
“You’re a good friend. I’ve been hurt recently too and I don’t want to harm Sully. But I…” This is only a weekend fling, isn’t it? Why does she make it seem like something more? A whirlwind romance in some cheesy movie. No. Sully and I are using each other to help move on from past traumas and find something better in the future.
Charlotte grabs my arm with her left hand and squeezes until I wince in pain. Her happy demeanor vanishes and her rich chocolatey brown eyes turn coppery and murderous as she leans in closer. “Don’t make me regret liking you,” she says between clenched teeth.
Words fail me. What the hell? I grasp for a response, but nothing comes. Before I can recover, she plasters on a bright smile. “I think we’re going to be great friends.” Then, as if the conversation never happened, she leans back in her chair, sighs, and closes her eyes.
The nail techs exchange glances and whisper something in a language I don’t understand. But I’m pretty sure they think I’m screwed.
When Charlotte takes me back to the hotel room, she hugs me goodbye and wanders off to her room. My entire body’s exhausted between the travel, shopping, and that intense talk with Charlotte. The band hasn’t even left for the club to set up or do their soundcheck.
My legs wobble as I walk toward the bed. A shoe box trips me and I fly forward.
“Whoa,” Sully chuckles, grabbing my arm and saving me from faceplanting into the glass coffee table. “You okay?”
“Yes,” I mumble. Thank God he doesn’t know what my day job is—I can already hear the jokes.Still gaining your land legs? You’d think you were a mermaid. Do you swim better than you walk?Five years of this, and I’ve heard them all. I can laugh them off, pretend they don’t bother me,but deep down, each one lands like a tiny weight in my chest, pressing heavier over time.
“Charlotte tried to kill me.” I’m only half-kidding. I lie back on the California king bed with my arms out to my sides and allow myself to sink into the ivory-colored comforter and stare at the powder-blue ceiling.
“I’m heading over to the club to help set up. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. We can grab a quick bite before the final soundcheck.”
I kick off my shoes and roll onto my side. “Okay, that gives me time for a shower.” But first, I’ll lie here until the bed and I become one or until my feet stop pounding, whichever comes first.
He sits beside me. The bed dips under his weight, and I tighten my ab muscles to keep from rolling into him. I sit up, using my elbows, and meet his gaze. His eyes darken as they sweep over me. “You’re going to shower without me?” His voice drops into a rough husky tone. “Wouldn’t it be better if I helped?”
His words reverberate in my chest and cause my clit to buzz. It’s strange—I've never felt this kind of craving for sex before, this raw, urgent desire. It’s almost painful to look at him, to want him so badly, and yet to be unable to reach for him, taste his lips, feel him inside me. Without warning, my body responds—an undeniable pulse of longing. I meet his gaze, and my eyes drop to the bulge in his pants, the tension between us thickening. He feels it too.
I’ve only been with two other guys, but with Sully, everything is different. It’s new, exciting, like stepping into a world I never knew existed, one that makes everything before feel small in comparison.
“Go to the club and set up your guitars or whatever you sexy bass players do.” I playfully push him toward the door. “Maybe we can shower later tonight.”
He gives me a wolfish grin. “You can count on that.”
As he slips out the door, I press my hand to my chest, trying to hold back the frantic pulse in my veins, the urge to run after him, to follow him anywhere.
At least Alice can’t say I never come out of my shell anymore. I’d say this mermaid has gotten herself lost in deep uncharted waters.
As a teen, I always wondered what it would be like to be a roadie, following a band from city to city. I thought it would be fun and you’d meet all kinds of cool and interesting people. But after tonight, I’m thankful for never becoming a roadie.
They do so much heavy lifting, not to mention hours and hours of work before anyone lines up outside the venue. They test the lights, the sound, and check technical things I don’t understand. And wires snake along the ground everywhere. I stand next to the sound booth guy and the number of buttons he keeps track of makes me dizzy.
