“How much longer will this take?”

Zoe glances up from her phone with a shrug. “No clue. We’ve never done anything like this before. It can’t last that much longer, though. She still has a press event before the show.”

“I see.” I look back at the stage and watch Autumn maneuver through a complicated dance routine involving a lot of ass shaking and hair flicks. She’s been rehearsing with some big-shot dance instructor ever since we got to Austin.

Autumn finishes the last sequence to a series of clapping from her instructor. “Bravo, Ms. Hart! Just a few more times to work out the kinks…”

“Autumn’s a lot of things,” Zoe continues. “Musician, singer, songwriter, Country Music Magazine’s Sexiest Singer three years in a row. But dancer? We needed professional help for that one.”

I watch Autumn strut across the stage, her bare legs long and toned in her sky-high stilettos. She moves with the grace of an athlete.

“She looks like she knows what she’s doing,” I say with grudging respect.

“When Autumn decides to do something, she doesn’t half-ass it.”

I see my opening to ask the question that’s been on my mind since we left Dallas. “So she decided to do this?”

Zoe throws me a look. “I think you mean did Cody decide? Let me put it this way: they weren’t talking to each other before lunch, and then after a talk behind closed doors, Autumn announces that she’ll give dancing a try tonight.”

“I see.”

“Is that what you say when you really want to say something else?”

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

Zoe winks. “Right. Read ya loud and clear.” She grows quiet as we watch Autumn stop to draw her hair back into a messy bun. Her cheeks are flushed from the exertion, and I know she must be exhausted. But the Autumn I remember would rather wear hot pink than admit that something bested her.

“I bet you think this is a piece of cake compared to your old gig,” Zoe says. “You’re not storming beaches in the dead of night or jumping out of airplanes.”

“You forgot the part where I swam three miles in shark-infested waters to avoid being captured by Somalian pirates.”

“You. Sharks. What?” Zoe’s eyes go round as saucers.

“Kidding.” Zoe pouts and goes back to her phone. I lean in and lower my voice. “About the sharks.”

She looks up with a gasp. “No way!”

I let a shrug be my answer. “But in all seriousness—” emphasizing the serious part because I know who I’m talking to “—this is like any other detail I’ve been assigned to. SEALs have this reputation for doing crazy shit, but there’s downtime, like this. The trick is not getting comfortable. Strikes can happen when you least expect them.”

“So, like, tigers could storm the stage at any moment and eat the band?”

Yup, didn’t get through.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

Zoe looks down as her phone chirps. “Just a sec, it’s PR… What’s up, Michaela?”

I reach my arms over my head and stretch my tight biceps and lats as Zoe turns her attention to the call. I’d gone through a few rigorous training exercises this morning between reviewing the venue’s layout and security parameters and was beginning to feel it.

“Cool if I stretch my legs?” I look down when Zoe doesn’t answer. She wears a dazed look as she stares at my chest. “Aussie?”

Her nickname does the trick. With colossal willpower, Zoe drags her eyes to mine. “Huh? Oh, sure. And could you find Cody?” she adds, holding her hand over the phone. “Michaela’s looking for him.”

I nod and head for the door. My legs groan in protest as I weave through the corridors in search of the stairs. Maybe a few suicides would help my muscles chill the hell out.

I’ve just exited the stairwell when the door across the hall opens. A group of ultra-fit ladies wearing workout clothes walks out, chattering animatedly about the show tonight.

“Can you believe Autumn Hart is really here?” the first one says over her shoulder.

“I know,” a blonde one gushes, “like, two floors away!”

The woman behind her runs her manicured fingers through her long black hair. “And we get to be there for her first dance perf—oh my.”

A collective gasp sweeps through the group when they spot me. The first one stops so suddenly that the blonde runs right into her.

“Stacey!” someone at the back cries. “What’s the hold… Oh.”

Suddenly I find four pretty pairs of eyes on me. Pretty and roaming. Everywhere.

The blonde one recovers first. She shoves the girl in front of her out of the way to get to me. “Hi! I’m Nikki and single.”

The black-haired girl throws her a look. “But you are talking to that bartender, remember?” She moves her dark eyes to me. “I’m not, if you’re wondering.”

“He’s not.”

“Then move.”

“I saw him first!”

In the blink of an eye, the four gorgeous dancers turn on each other.

“Ladies,” I shout over the cacophony. “LADIES—”

Silence.

“I’m Ms. Hart’s security detail. I apologize for interrupting your, uh, get together, but I’m looking for someone—”

“It’s not me?” the brunette simpers.

I give her a disarming smile. “I wish I was, but it’s a guy.” All four faces fall. “His name’s Cody Jensen,” I continue, relieved to have avoided a hormone-fueled mob.

The blonde jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “He’s talking with Britney and Claire in the back.”

“Oh,” I say, frowning. Claire and Britney better not look like these four or things are about to get uncomfortable.

“Well, thank you, ladies. I won’t hold you any longer…” I hold the door open and wait for them to file past me. With a collective sigh, they grudgingly start up the stairs. The dark-haired one leans in as she passes me.

“I hope I see you after the show, sweetie,” she murmurs, adding a coquettish smile to that invitation before disappearing around the corner.

I let go of the door and slump against it. Damn. If that isn’t a test of willpower, than I don’t know what is.

The dressing room is empty of people but full of every hair, skin, and face product known to woman. I spot a cracked door in the back and head for it. When I yank it open, the three people huddled together on a small couch start with surprise. My eyes find Autumn’s manager and narrow. The look of panic is fleeting as it flits across his well-groomed face, but I see it. I see everything.

“Bryce?” Jensen sputters. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you.” My gaze slides to the dancers on either side of him. “What are you doing here?”

Jensen frowns. “Running through the dance sequence with Claire and Whitney.”

The redhead to his right slaps his arm. “Britney!”

“Oh, right…Britney,” he says, giving her a smile.

My face turns to granite as the young lady bursts into giggles. “Sorry to break up your meeting, but Michaela’s been trying to reach you.”

Cody pulls out his phone with a healthy scowl, but it evaporates when he sees the screen.

“Shit! It’s on silent.” He gets up and starts for the door, but stops when I start to follow. “Can I help you?”

I stay silent, not needing words to apply pressure. I’m rewarded when the skin above his white Oxford shirt grows red.

“I know where I’m going, bodyguard,” he snarls.

“Then you shouldn’t lose your way this time,” I say, stepping forward, “because the next time I find you behind a closed door with someone other than Autumn, things won’t stay so friendly…” I inch aside, leaving barely enough room to pass by me. “If you understand me.”

The scathing look I get from Jensen as he brushes by me could’ve killed.

I’m about to follow, to make sure he gets where he’s going, when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I answer without bothering to look at the screen. “Hill. Talk quick.”

“Uh, maybe I should call back?” a gravelly voice says on the other end.

My hand pauses on the stairwell door. “Rendell?”

“The one and only.”

The sound of my best friend’s voice loosens up my tight shoulders. Koa Rendell and I go all the way back to boot camp. He left the Navy for Maine a few years in, but that didn’t stop us from staying in touch. I was just up there this July for his birthday while Autumn and Cody were gallivanting around the Caribbean. I’ll never pass up the opportunity to have a fresh lobster roll and a pint of cider. Or six.

I push through the door and head for the stairwell. “So I’m guessing Portland hasn’t kicked you out yet?”

He gives a deep chuckle. “Not yet. Just calling to catch up. It’s been a while, man. I thought you’d died or something.”

“Not yet,” I throw back at him. I’m rewarded with a grunt. “I’ve been pulling long hours on this tour. At the venue right now while autumn rehearses this dance for tonight’s show.”

“Okay,” Koa says slowly. “I don’t know much about country music concerts, but I don’t remember Garth Brooks dancing around stage.”

“That’s because he’s usually playing the guitar.”

“Isn’t that Autumn’s thing, too?”

“Used to be.” I open the door to the stairwell and glance up. Seeing no backup dancers, I walk over to the steps and take a seat. “Autumn’s been offered a deal with Sunny Records.”

Koa whistles. “Wow. I even know that name.”

“It’s a pop deal.”

“Is that bad?” A pause. I expect Koa to press, but he doesn’t. One of the many reasons we get along so well. “Alright. How’s Autumn?”

I shift uncomfortably on the hard concrete steps. “Can’t get a read on her. You know how it is between us. It’s hard to talk to her with the tour and…other things.”

“So she’s still with that dude?”

I crack my knuckles in the silence, telling myself I won’t go down this road. Don’t get involved, stay out of it—

“He’s just like the rest of them—though this one’s turning out to be scummier than I thought,” I add, remembering the suspicious meeting I just found Jensen holding behind a closed door. “I don't know why she lets him talk her into all this shit.”

“Is Autumn pushing back?”

“Yeah, but he’s pushing harder. You know how Autumn gets with the people she loves.”

“Whoa. You think she loves this guy?”

I don’t answer. The question had never crossed my mind. But even as I try to convince myself she must, the twisting in my gut tells me no. Being famous means you’re surrounded by people that only want something from you, and that describes Jensen perfectly. You’ve got to be guarded.

At least Autumn doesn’t give her heart away easily—something I know better than most.

“I don’t know,” I lie. “How’s Summer? She moved in yet?”

Koa doesn’t answer at first, clearly not buying my deflect. “Yeah, Summer’s good, and yeah, she moved in last week.”

“Bet you two are about to kill each other.” I met Summer Rae when I was up in Portland. She’d been coerced into being Koa’s first mate as a favor to her grandparents, an arrangement as disagreeable to Koa as it was to her. But somewhere between trying not to kill each other and keeping a fishing business afloat, they'd gotten wise about how they felt about each other.

“Sometimes,” Koa admits, “like when she burnt through my only skillet because she’d never cooked with gas, but mostly it’s pretty damn awesome.”

Jealously whips through me. I’ve never come close to feeling that way about anyone. Except maybe for Autumn: irresistible but untouchable.

“Man, I’m gonna tear up.”

“Shut up.”

“Yeah, right.” I glance at my watch and get up. My thighs scream as I flex my legs. I look up the stairs and cringe. This isn’t going to be fun. “Hey, I’ve gotta go. Autumn should be finishing up and I’ll need to watch her like a hawk before the show.”

“Is she a tough client?”

“Doesn’t mean to be. She’s just headstrong and thinks she’s invincible.”

Koa chuckles. “Sounds like you and your client are more alike than you think.”

“We’ve known each other for a long time,” I mutter. I grab the railing and launch myself onto the stairs, taking the steps two at a time.

“Or it’s more than that.”

“Sure it is.”

Koa sighs. “Open your damn eyes, Hill.”

“They’re open,” I say, gritting my teeth against the pain. “I went down that road nine years ago, and I’m not going back.”

“Yeah, yeah—I know. You told her how you felt, and she turned you down.”

“Nah, I never told her. She walked off with some jock before I could.”

“And?”

Embarrassment sweeps through me. Not saying goodbye was my one regret, and the pain I inflicted on her was weaved into every single letter she wrote me that year.

“What do you mean and?” I say testily, slowing to a stop. “I left.”

“Oh.” He goes silent. “Then never mind.”

I roll my eyes as I turn the corner. “Okay, asshole, let’s hear the new and improved wisdom.”

“You let a good thing go.”

“Excuse me?” I slam to a stop and struggle for breath. I tell myself it’s because of the sprints, but I know it’s the wound Koa just reopened with six little words. All I could think about senior year was graduation: the day when I’d be forced to leave Autumn behind.

“You let her go,” Koa repeats in that cocky voice of his, “and—”

“And what?” I demand.

“Eh, nothing,” Koa says, like I’m a lost cause. I probably am. “Alright, I’ll let you go. Good luck with the tour and everything.”

Koa’s unfinished sentence lingers long after he’s hung up. He didn’t need to finish it, though, I know exactly how it ends. It’s what I’ve been ignoring for nine long-ass years.

Maybe it’s time to fix your mistake, idiot.