CHAPTER 16

Delia

I couldn’t believe it. How the hell could I have been so stupid? My mother was rolling over in her grave right now, and my father would probably take me to confession if he knew about this. One rule. I had one rule going into college. I’d broken it. After being seduced and lured into Drake’s mesmerizing trap.

No sex before marriage. That was it. It wasn’t that hard, and I’d gotten through twenty-five years of my life without it. I did things myself, I relieved what I had to with my hands, and I went on about my business. No men, no dicks, no penetration. Shit, I’d never even dated just to deprive myself of the temptation.

Until Drake.

Despite my parents’ many issues, I had been raised Catholic and taught that sex should be saved for marriage only. My mother had pounded it into my head over and over again in the hopes of me avoiding the same mistakes she’d made. She didn’t want to see me pregnant and married to a man who had only proposed out of obligation.

At this point, I couldn’t even see Drake doing that if the worst were to happen. No, I needed to be much smarter than I had been. No matter how attracted I was to him, no matter how much I craved his body, I had to be smarter. Not to mention, he was my boss and our escapade was highly unprofessional and could get me fired on the spot.

I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror. Every time I went into the bathroom, I kept my eyes averted so I couldn’t see my reflection. Every time I opened up my laptop, I shut my eyes until the screen came on. I avoided anything that could possibly reflect my picture as we traveled into New Orleans but having Drake on the bus as a reminder didn’t help.

“I told you, it was two cinnamon rolls,” I said.

“Bear claws are similar,” the concert coordinator said. “Don’t worry. They’ll make due.”

“No. They won’t make due. I called you twice to confirm this. This isn’t on my shoulders, and when Landon comes stomping out here because he sees bear claws instead of cinnamon rolls, you’ll be the one making the run.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Your band is way too demanding for this kind of stage. This concert isn’t a big deal.”

“Not a big deal? Why don’t you turn around and say that to the man standing behind you?”

The concert coordinator turned around and came face to face with Drake. It had been hell trying to fix their blunders before the concert kicked off and Drake was pissed. His eyes were flaring with anger and his arms were crossed over his chest. He somehow seemed taller than normal, and the concert coordinator began trembling in his own boots.

“I believe the lady requested you fix some issues on your end,” Drake said.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Blackthorn. I’ll go see if I can track down some cinnamon rolls,” the man said.

“And while you’re at it, find your manners. If I’da talked to a woman that way, my momma would’ve slapped me stupid,” Drake said.

My eyes connected with Drake and I saw a shadow of a grin play on his cheeks. That was probably the worst part of all of this. Not the fact that I’d broken my promise to my mother or the fact that I had given my virginity to a man who didn’t give two shits about our encounter.

It was the fact that I wanted more. Damn it, I wanted so much more.

Once Landon got his cinnamon rolls, the concert was back on schedule. Hank and I were running around trying to put the last pieces in place and fix everything New Orleans was determined to screw up. I watched the show from the back this time instead of staying on the bus, and I was mesmerized by his stage presence. Drake really was a force to be reckoned with, and it made everything even more confusing.

He had hardly talked to me on the bus from Birmingham to New Orleans, which made me feel even worse. It pretty much solidified what I already figured; he had gotten what he wanted from me and that was it. I wasn’t going to be anything more than a one-night stand. And even though I knew it was for the best, it still hurt.

If he kept his distance, it would certainly make things easier. I had a job to get done, and I was only contracted to work with him through this tour. After that, I was on an on-call basis, whatever that was going to mean for me. And I hadn’t even started to try and help him get clean yet. I’d only tried to keep him away from his band buddies after the gigs, so he didn’t go get smashingly drunk.

I found myself tapping my foot to his music as I studied him on stage, his ass in those threadbare jeans and his arms twitching with excitement. He was a force to behold, just like he had been on the ranch, with sweat dripping down his brow and his shirt clinging to his chest.

I drew in a deep breath and tried to shake the memory of him from my mind.

“You ready to try and wrangle him?” Hank asked.

“The concert’s almost over, right?” I asked.

“Yep. Whatever you did last night to keep him at bay, it worked. See if you can try it again tonight to keep him sober.”

I clenched my jaw as I tried to keep the memories of his naked body at bay.

“What a fuckin’ show!” Landon, said as he came off stage

“I knew you’d nail it once you got those damn cinnamon rolls. How fucking hard is it to find cinnamon rolls?” Stone asked.

“Harder than you’d think when someone’s determined to be an ass,” Drake said.

“Hey, we’re goin’ to get a drink, then we’ll be back,” Landon said.

“Oh, hell yeah. A beer after that concert is just what I need,” Stone said.

“I’m right behind you guys,” Drake said.

“Actually, I need to talk with you for a second, Drake,” I said.

“Uh oh. Drake’s in trouble with his babysitter,” Landon said, with a grin.

“Come on. We’re headed to the French Quarter for a good damn time,” Stone said. “See ya there!”

“Right behind ya!” Drake said.

“We need to get you back to your room. The guys might be able to tolerate a night of drinking, but you’ve already had six beers on stage,” I said.

“So? I’ve drank twice that just to wake myself up,” he said.

“Well good for you. But you still have a tour to do and an interview to give tomorrow before we head out. You need to get some rest.”

“I think I’ll be just fine, Delia.”

“Drake, I’m trying to help you here, and do the job I was hired to do. Just get back on the bus. I’m headed there, too. So you won’t be alone. Just tell the guys you aren’t feeling it.”

“But I am,” he said, with a grin. “Unless you’re offerin’ me somethin’ better.”

“I’m not. I’m simply doing what’s best for your career. You need to be sober for this call-in interview with the radio station before we head out to the last tour date.”

“It’s just one drink. I’ll be fine.”

“One drink will lead to two, and two will dip into four, and soon you’re stumbling back onto the bus black-out drunk with some floozy on your hip.”

“That make you jealous?” he asked with a grin.

I shook my head and bit the inside of my cheek. He was acting like a petulant toddler. All he wanted to do was get a rise out of me, and it wasn’t going to work. “If you insist on going, then I insist on following. I’ll be the biggest pain in the ass you’ve ever seen in your life. I’ll fuck up every drink order and block every hookup you try to make. Or you can come back to the bus and get a good night’s sleep. Your choice,” I said.

He stared at me for what seemed like an hour before giving me a curt nod. “Fine. We’ll do it your way.”

With that, he turned on his heel and stalked off. I followed behind, trying hard not to pump my fist in victory.