Harper rolled over onto her stomach. A shaft of sun lulling her back down into the soft cocoon of a nap. An insistent rumble tried to pull her back out.

Pulse-bzzz-pulse.

Tic-tic-bzzz.

She peeled an eye open. Her phone was flashing a text and a missed call. When it started vibrating again, she snatched it off the coffee table.

She rolled to her side, tucking one of the blankets she was using for a pillow under her cheek. They’d been staying at her Aunt Maggie’s house. Thank God for her crazy work schedule. She’d been more than happy to let them crash there for a few days. Deacon was still hunched over his laptop, as he had been for the last three days. Two notebooks, a scatter of pens and his phone sat at his elbow, and a super-sized iced coffee sat sweating, barely touched at the top of the desk.

She glanced down at her phone, flicked through a few texts from her brother and one from her dad. Nothing earth shattering there. She didn’t recognize the number on the voice mail so she tucked her phone into her pocket and swung up to a sitting position.

Quietly padding across the room, she caught a new website up on Deacon’s screen. She curled her fingers along the tense muscles along his shoulders. “Who’s Ripper Records? Why does that sound familiar?”

Deacon looked up with a distracted smile. He hauled her around and dumped her on his lap. He tucked his chin into where her shoulder met neck and inhaled. “You smell like sunshine.”

“Handy since I was napping like Garfield in a big ray of sunshine.”

“Lazy shit.”

She curled into his arms. “Yep. It’s shameful.” She nodded to the screen. “Avoiding the topic?”

He sighed. “No.”

She raised her brow and he laughed.

He reached around her to tap on the touch pad. “I’ve been reading a few articles about this Donovan Lewis guy. Evidently, he made his money as a venture capitalist. Which is pretty much code for a gambler.”

“He’s a hot gambler.”

Deacon drilled his finger into her side. She squirmed and slipped her hand into his hair. “Not as hot as you.”

He snorted. “Yeah.”

“So, he’s just the money at Ripper Records?”

“No, that’s the thing. The label seems to be all him. I can’t find any other names associated with it except producers for the talent. And then I found this.” He clicked on hyperlink with the name, Lila Shawcross.

A super-hot blonde filled the screen. Wicked China blue eyes stared right into the camera and felt like they were boring into her freaking forehead. A Mona Lisa smile played around her full mouth. She stood with her arms crossed and a pair of dark rimmed glasses dangling from her fingers. She showed off a killer body with a form shaping suit in a rich eggplant color.

“Jesus. She’s hot.”

“Yeah, she is. You should see her in person,” he said under his breath.

Harper plowed her elbow into his side.

Deacon brushed his lips along her neck behind her ear. “Easy.”

She slid her hand along his forearm. “Yeah, so what’s up with hot girl? And why do you know that she’s hotter in person?”

“She came to one of our shows. I didn’t know who she was at the time.” He paused, tapping his finger on the desk. “She got under Nick’s skin, that was for sure.”

Harper snickered. “He probably wanted to fuck her.”

“Nice.”

Harper turned to him. “Like he didn’t? Like you didn’t?”

His brows snapped down. “I did not,” Deacon said and fisted her hair, dragging her in for a hot, hard kiss.

Surprised, she turned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding on. He clamped an arm around her waist, holding her firmly against him and his growing erection. He scraped his teeth over her lower lip and opened her wide for his greedy tongue.

“Whoa.” She pressed her forehead to his, her breath unsteady. They’d gone from business and teasing to that little flash of Deacon that came out at the oddest times. Possessive, wicked, and always left her a little off-center. “What was that?”

“I don’t like you thinking that.” His voice was hard-edged. So unlike the easy man that always made her smile.

“What?” She opened dazed eyes. “That you thought another chick was hot?” She leaned back against the desk to get a better look at him. “It’s going to happen.”

“I’m a one woman guy, Harper.”

“Oh.” She tilted her head. Where was all this coming from?

He frowned. “You know that, right? This,” he pointed between them, “isn’t just a passing thing.”

“I know.”

“You don’t sound so sure about it.”

“No.” She grasped a handful of his silky hair, pushing it back from his angular face. His scruff was back and his eyes were a little bloodshot around the edges, but the gold infused green was so beautiful and clear. So intense. “I don’t throw the love word around for just anyone, pal.”

He relaxed his grip. “Then why were you so surprised?”

She tried to put her scattered thoughts into some sort of order. “I just meant it’s okay to look. You’re human. You’re a musician, for God’s sake. I know beautiful women are going to be a part of your life, that’s all.” She nodded to the screen. “Case in point.”

Deacon sighed and his shoulders relaxed, his focus back on the screen. “She was on the hunt, but it wasn’t for a guy. She was talking to Rebel Rage that night, I think. But she stopped by to mention that she was impressed with our set.”

“So that’s a good thing. Maybe that means you have in in.”

He hauled her in against his chest, tucking her head under his chin. “Maybe.”

She let the cedar scent of him fill her senses. The man was always so toasty warm. “Call them.”

“It’s not that easy, Lawless.”

She rolled her eyes and climbed off him. She unearthed her phone, scrolled down to the bottom of the website and found a contact number.

“Wait. You can’t just call.” He made a reach for her, but she skirted out of his reach.

“Sure I can.” She walked to the window as the phone rang.

“Ripper Records, how may I direct your call?”

“Yes, hello. I’m looking for Lila Shawcross.”

“She’s unavailable, may I take a message,” the woman asked crisply.

“Yes, I would. I’m calling on behalf of Deacon McCoy and the band, Oblivion.” She could feel Deacon behind her. She hurriedly rattled off his number. “He’s interested in a meeting at her earliest convenience.”

The woman’s voice changed a little, became less dismissive. She repeated Deacon’s name and phone number. Harper turned to Deacon, met his direct stare.

“I appreciate your time,” Harper said and hit the end button on her phone. “There we go.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“Don’t go all glowery on me, Big Guy. It’s just a phone call.”

He moved in on her. The tired was so close to the surface. Worry and sleepless nights were becoming the standard. If it wasn’t him pacing or randomly exercising, it was him reaching for her in the pre-dawn hours. Her guy was right on the edge and time was running out.

“We don’t have an agent to vet that kind meeting.”

“So, go for a more informal meeting. That’s what she did.”

Deacon’s eyes narrowed. “Informal,” he murmured. And the pacing started again.

She glanced at the wall and saw the time. “Look, it’s after business hours. How about I cook you something?”

He stabbed his fingers through his hair. “I’m not hungry.”

“Well, that’s a lie. You’re always hungry.”

She had to hand it to him, he tried to smile for her, but he was beyond distracted. The worry lines were grooved into brackets around his mouth. If he wasn’t going to relax, she’d have to make him relax.

“Deacon, come upstairs with me.”

“I’ll be up in a minute.”

She passed him, and when she got to the stairs, she wiggled out of her shirt and pelted it at his head. He turned, surprise lighting his ever-changing eyes, and then his laser focus went hot.

She sprinted up the stairs, laughing when she heard him pound up after her. Of course he caught her, but she squealed out a giggle as he lifted her and tossed her on the huge sleigh bed they’d been sharing. She rolled onto her knees and faced him.

He’d lost his shirt, and the tanned flex of muscles pushed her playful mood into hyper-drive. It was obscene just how beautiful this man was. And he was hers.

His green eyes shone with determination and retribution. And man, she couldn’t wait to tire him out. The soft whisper of denim hitting the floor and his rigid, swaying cock coming her way made her mouth go dry.

She unhooked her bra and before she could get to her shorts, he was hauling her up against him. His mouth was hungry and as intense as it had been downstairs only a few minutes ago. Like he needed to convince her that the passion between them was as strong as the love.

Like she could forget.

He peeled off her shorts and panties, rolling her onto her back. Fingers, lips, heedless words fought with his kisses. He rolled again, hoisting her above him to straddle his chest.

“Deacon,” she panted as she tried to balance herself.

“Higher.”

“What?” She looked down at him, her body and mind buzzing with excitement and the sheen of lust that was trying to delete her rational brain. It scared her sometimes. How incredibly intense it was when they got together.

He lifted her off the bed until her knees were pressed into the mattress beside his head. With the first lick of his tongue along her cleft she reached for the wide headboard. She arched over him, her thighs stretched wide to combat his shoulders and his grip on her ass.

She looked down to see him staring up at her, his mouth working her past pleasure and headlong into a scream. He held her there as his tongue delved inside of her, alternating with a stroke inside then around her clit and back again. Unrelenting as a metronome and equally as focused.

She couldn’t break her gaze. The room shimmered around her vision and her thighs quaked, her mind shut off and she became the pleasure between them, and still she watched. There was nothing but him, not pain, not an orgasm, not a scream.

She lost her words as he lashed her with his tongue and swallowed her come with greedy gulps. His lips and chin were wet from her and still he held her there. And then suddenly, the vortex passed and he lifted her off him to land at the other end of the bed on her back.

He crawled over her, hooking her ankles around his neck until she was folded in half. Then he sunk into her slowly. The position left her with no choice but to take all of him. Stretched to the limit, filled to the brim, he was everywhere. And in that moment, she realized there’d been a piece missing inside of herself, and she welcomed him. With each slow, measured thrust, he became part of her.

She gripped his powerful arms as he loomed over her. She watched his eyes change. The fury receding as the love came roaring up between them. Sliding her feet down and bringing her knees up to cradle him she watched him, held him, and loved him.

This was what she’d never had before. What she’d only found in his arms, and with his strong body, and even stronger heart. She pressed her forehead to his, whispering his name, the words she found so hard to offer, the words that were getting easier to say.

To believe.

With her arms around his neck, she became his. The teasing was gone, the wildness harnessed, and there was nothing but Deacon. Nothing but them and the way they moved together. His hardness to her soft, his intensity to her freedom, and the love that entwined them both.

She held on as the orgasm blanked out doubt and she felt him fill her. His breathing harsh, her name a hoarse cry in the waning sunshine. She wrapped herself around the man she’d never hoped to find.

And in the aftermath, there were no words left. He curled around her, tucking her back against his chest and he finally slept. She held his forearm around her front and stayed there watching the sun’s rays disappear into dusk, content to be there with him and let him sleep.

She wasn’t sure how long it had been, but moonlight had replaced sunset when she felt him stir behind him. She’d dozed off, but a growling stomach behind her made her smile.

“Finally hungry?”

He pressed open mouthed kisses along her neck. “I’m always hungry.”

“See, that’s what I said earlier.” She felt his cock stir behind her, and she moaned when he slipped inside her once more. “You’re going to kill me.”

“Sore?” he whispered as one hand slid down to lightly stroke her clit.

She sighed out a moan. “A little.”

He pumped lightly. She brought her hand down to meet his, and she could feel his cock slide through their fingers as he opened her thighs. The release was sweet and soft, with his voice filling her head.

When she came around again, she had to roll away from him. They’d never eat if she stayed there spooning him. “Shower and food, Big Guy.” She flicked on the light.

He stretched, the sheet barely covering him. He didn’t even bother to pull it up as he rolled onto his stomach, stuffing a pillow under his cheek. “I could eat a pound of pasta.”

Her gaze trailed down his tight back with the armor-like tattoo rolling over muscle. She forced herself to look at his face. Food. Not Deacon on a platter. “I think I could, too.”

His dimple winked. “Looks like we’re having pasta. Why don’t you got hit the shower, and I’ll put the water on.”

“Make sure you—”

“Yeah, yeah…salt the water. I know. Go on.”

She scooped up her shorts off the floor and took her phone into the bathroom. She flicked on some music and stepped into the coat closet sized shower.

When the music switched over to her ringer, she stuck her head out to look at the readout. Again, she didn’t recognize the number. She hurried through the rest of her routine when the chime for a voice mail trilled over the music.

With a towel around her, still dripping, she hit play.

“Harper, this is Meg. Don’t get too comfortable with that hunk of rockstar ass. I’ve got a gig that lost a chef, and you’re in if you can get to San Antonio tomorrow night. Call me back.”

Harper’s chest tightened. Tomorrow? So fast?

The second message cycled through.

“Harper, Meg again. Danny and I have another gig already, so this would be a trial basis for you to run your own truck. It’s for five months. Call me back. I need you there by tomorrow afternoon. I found a flight from Los Angeles if that’s where you still are. Call. Me.”

Excitement bubbled up as she snatched her phone and ran into the bedroom. The bed was empty, Deacon already downstairs with his own music blaring. She dragged on a t-shirt and a pair of boxers over her damp skin. She’d actually be able to run her own tour? To be in charge of a staff.

To finally be able to put a menu together on her own.

She ran down the stairs, phone gripped in her hand.

“Hey, slow down. I know you’re hungry, but the water just started boiling.”

She ran to him and threw her arms around him. “You won’t believe this.”

He caught her up against him, smiling down at her. “Man, you are excited. It’s just pasta.”

She hopped back down. “It’s not about the pasta.” She peeked around him. “Did you empty a jar into a sauce pan?”

He winced. “I figured you could doctor it up.”

She rolled her eyes and raided the spice rack, dumping in garlic and onion powder with a pinch of oregano. She opened a can of mushrooms and squeezed out the water, dumping it in as well. It wouldn’t be impressive, but it would fill their belly.

“I got a call while I was upstairs.”

Deacon leaned against the island in Maggie’s country kitchen. His tall frame making the space seem even smaller. “From your folks? Or Maggie? Is she kicking us out?”

She slid between him and the stove to grab a whisk then set the sauce to medium heat. She dumped a bag of bowtie pasta into the water. “No, actually it was Meg. You’ll never believe it. I have to call to figure out exactly what’s going on, but I got another gig. Can you believe it? My own gig. Not playing third chef this time, either. Just me.”

When he didn’t say anything, she turned around. His face was blank, his eyes shuttered.

She stepped closer to him, lacing her fingers with his. “Deacon, you knew I was going to get a call to go back to work.”

“Now?” He tightened his grip.

“I know the timing isn’t ideal.”

“Ideal?” He twisted his hand out of her grip and walked around the island to the living room.

“Shit.” She took the pasta off the burner and followed him. “I have a job, just like you do.”

“I don’t have a fucking job. I don’t even have a contract.”

“You will.” Her heartbeat throbbed an echoing beat in her head leaving her chest cold. “I have every faith that you will.”

He jammed his hands into his hair. “So you’re just going to go? What about us?”

“What about us?”

Deacon came to an abrupt halt. “What about us?” He parroted back. “Are you fucking kidding me here?”

She shook her head and went to stand before him. “I don’t mean there is no us.” She grabbed his hands and stared up at him. “I just mean that there is no change to us. I just have to go on the road for a while. We can meet up when I’m off.”

“Meet up?” His eyebrows snapped down. “You mean hook up?”

“No.” At his incredulous face, she quickly gripped his hips. “Well, of course we’ll do that, too, but I want to see you. I want to see you as often as I can.” She frowned. Surprised to realize it was true, she gripped his arm. “I don’t want this to end.”

“And you can’t pick another date? Just until I know what’s going on?”

She took a step back. What made his life more important than hers? She had a career, too. “We talked about this. When Meg calls, I have to go, or I don’t have a job. That’s the contract deal. I’m lucky she hasn’t called before this.”

“I need you here.”

His panicked eyes made her stomach clench. She folded her arms over her middle. “I’ve been here for you. For weeks, I’ve been here to help out your friends, to be with you.”

“I didn’t know it was such a hardship.”

“That’s not fair. I’ve been nothing but the good, supportive…” She dug her nails into her side. She’d been what? The little kept woman. “I’ve been a good friend.”

“Friend?” His head snapped back as if she’d slapped him. “That’s what this is to you? Friendship?”

“No. I—” She swallowed. Uncertainty about what they were tumbled into panicked anger. “No, I’m your girlfriend, I guess.”

“You guess?” he spluttered. “You have to guess?”

“Look, I love you, Deacon. It’s not just a fling anymore.”

She saw relief fill his eyes. “Good. Good,” he repeated and stepped forward. “It’s more than that for me. So we’ll figure something out.”

“What?” Harper looked up at him. “What’s to figure out? I have to talk to Meg and get the details of my job. We’ll see each other when we can.”

“You’re not going off for what, another six week tour?”

“Five months actually.” She held up a hand. “Wait. Did you say I’m not going? You don’t have any say in what I do, Deacon.” Her chest was getting tight. She paced away from him, her eyes darting around the room to the homey touches and the framed pictures. She didn’t belong here.

This was so far removed from what she wanted. Her shoulders hunched in at the completely closed off Deacon that sat so very still on the couch.

She took a deep breath and crouched in front of him. “We haven’t talked about anything beyond this. It’s still too new. I don’t want to lose you, Deacon.”

He lifted blood shot eyes at her. Just a few minutes ago, those green eyes had been soft and full of happiness. “But?”

“But I have a career too,” she whispered.

Deacon stood, brushing by her. “Five months.” He laughed harshly. “I don’t even know where I’m going to be in five months. How am I going to get to you? What if I’m stuck in the studio?”

“So I’m supposed to put my life on hold? And what if you don’t have a contract? What if you convince the guys to take a chance on shopping around for a contract? I can’t just hold my ass for you.”

“That’s real nice, Harper.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” She let her head fall forward before she squared her shoulders and stood. “I can’t afford to screw up my very new, very shaky reputation by blowing off a job. Meg’s giving me a shot. A shot at everything I’ve wanted since I started culinary school.”

“And what about us?”

“Why does it have to be all or nothing?” She whipped her wet hair out of her eyes. “Why can’t we just see where things go? I don’t know what the schedule’s like yet, but there’s got to be times we can meet in the middle.” Even as she said it, she knew it would be nearly impossible to get away. Not if she was running the tour.

But she’d find a way.

She wouldn’t let them go. God, it felt like there was a walnut sitting in the center of her throat. She tried to swallow around it, tried to breathe around it.

“I can see it all over your face, Harper. This is just bull shit.”

“What do you want me to do, Deacon? Even if I wanted to be the kept little woman, which you fucking know I can’t be, how is that going to work when you don’t even know where you’ll be by next week?”

He shook his head, his face going stony. “Just give me some time. Time to figure out what to do. I’m just asking for a little time.”

“I’ll be a phone call away. FaceTime, Skype, just like we said.”

“It’s not enough.”

She watched him shut down right before her eyes. Her chest tightened and the lump in her throat multiplied. How was she supposed to swallow? “You were the one that said we’d make it work. In the truck that night. That first night. Almost every night since.” She didn’t know how bad she wanted to believe him until right then.

“I need more than that, Harper.”

“What happens when you go on the road? I’m just left behind? Then what? That’s when I can work? When it’s convenient for you? That’s not how this works.”

“I want you with me.”

“What about what I want?” she asked on a raw whisper.

Deacon’s hands clenched. “I can’t, Harper. I can’t lose you, too.”

“You haven’t lost me. I’m right here.” She brought up one of his fisted hands and put it around her back. She stepped into him, but he didn’t unclench. His body was rigid as granite. “Don’t ask me to choose.” She brought her hands up to his chest, her nails digging into his unyielding wall of muscle. “Please.”

She’d never been happier than these last few months with Deacon, but already she was itching. Not to be away from him, but to work. She was just starting to get established. She didn’t want to start over with another company.

Food Riot was so close to her dream. And now, she’d have the chance to prove herself to Meg and Danny. And to herself. It was the first step into breaking out on her own.

“I’m just asking you to wait. So we can come up with an alternative.”

“What alternative? I have to work, Deacon.”

“You don’t. Not right away.” He looked down at her, cupping her cheeks. “I can take care of you.”

She closed her eyes. She had to. There was a tiny part of her that wanted to say yes. And that scared her more than anything. How could she put her entire career on hold for something so new? Barely two months compared to what she’d spent years preparing for?

“Would you give up your career for me?” She kept her eyes shut, unable to take the reaction. When he didn’t say anything, she finally looked up at him. His eyes were hollowed out and blank. “I guess it’s a good thing that I’d never ask you to.”

He dropped his hands and backed up until he bumped into the bookcase behind him. “That’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not,” she said on a broken whisper. “I don’t want to end this, Deacon. Can’t you see that?” She gripped the arm of the couch. Not thirty minutes ago, she’d been wrapped in his arms, so content.

And now, she’d never felt so disconnected from him. How could she have been that wrong about him? She lifted her gaze to the ceiling, her eyes burning dry, her throat working to choke down the ball of agony sitting there.

She was afraid that if she let it out, she’d never come back from it.

And when he lifted his chin and stared right through her, everything inside of her went still and silent.

And cold.

He walked across the room, his long stride eating up the living room, then the stairs. She heard him slamming around upstairs. Three minutes later he was down the stairs, bag and laptop in hand.

“I’ll send a car for you,” he said woodenly.

“I don’t need one.”

“That’s right. You can do it all on your own. You don’t need me. No one needs me.”

Before she could get her voice around that slap, he was gone. She chased him out the door and into the night calling his name, but he was already fishtailing his way down the dusty drive.

When the red lights faded, she was still outside hugging herself.

She’d never been so cold.