“If I started talking about rings, would you want to run?” he asked, which was absolutely bonkers, given that he was still inside her.
Was she ready to get married?
Gah, probably not. Not yet. Not because of him, but because she was still figuring out what it meant to beher. This was all new.
She wasn’t hiding. But she wasn’t not hiding, either.
Which meant… soon she would be known again. And that left her mouth dry and her lungs seeming to gasp for air.
And yet, the idea of an engagement to Tanner was not a thought that left a bitter taste. Actually, it seemed like it might be nice to have something that tied them together besides their midnight promises.
“I can talk rings,” she said, moving off of him so he could stand and take care of things. “I might need to talk slow.”
“That works,” he said, his back to her for a quick second. “We talk slow, you know where I’m coming from and where I wanna be someday. Same goes for you, yeah?”
“Yes,” she said, moving over so he could pull back the covers and climb into bed.
“You wanna get dressed before sleep?”
She shook her head.
That got her a wicked grin.
She reached up, stroking the pad of her thumb along the edge of his neck. “I love you, Tanner.”
He grinned a wicked grin, lining his body alongside hers and kissing her long and deep and… everything. “Same, Samantha Johnson.”
“If this is the future, I am really enjoying it,” she said.
Then they talked. Talked until they fell asleep together with the sound of the wheels under them as the backdrop to their future. Sam never let herself get too comfortable in one spot. This was the way of life she’d allowed up to this point. Time for things to change.
Being uncomfortable was overrated.
Chapter Twenty
SAMANTHA
“You can’t keep avoiding them,”Sam said as Tanner added more product to his hair.
“Just because Hans hires a whole crew of stylists to come along with us on the tours doesn’t mean they know what they’re doing,” Tanner fussed with his shirt. Tucking and then untucking it.
The stylists dressed him like some kind of doll they got to play with and leaned too far into his—what did Hans call it? Right, his “boy next door” image. Apparently, Hans and Courtney hoped it would bring in some of the fifteen to twenty population. Tanner, however, did not approve of the look.
Sam didn’t hate it, though. He made a cute boy next door.
“Just because they want me to play the part doesn’t mean I have to do it,” he said, going with the shirt untucked.
Good call, since the styling team would’ve likely made him tuck it in.
He might be able to hold a conversation with a woman now, but every time the stylists got to him he froze like a rocker stuck in the headlights of boy band fashion.
That was why Tanner took care of this part himself before he left the bus. He even took extra time on his hair, so they didn’t have a chance to “fuck it up.”
He’d found it easier to pass off their “help” if he looked like he put in a good effort himself.
“You comin’ to the stage tonight?” he asked, carefully, like he didn’t want to let any of the hope bubbles form.
They’d had two shows on the road, and for both shows she’d stayed behind.
