Chapter Three
“Oh shit.”
Avery looks up from her phone. “What?”
I rapidly scan the rows of seats. “How the hell did my brother leave without me seeing it?”
Her head tilts to the side with a pointed stare. “You were too busy trying to peek at what I’ve been texting to my sister. Emmy says hello, by the way.”
My face flushes. Damn, busted again. I was obvious. And no, not so much about what she was texting but to whom. Not that it makes it better that I only wanted to know if it was a guy.
She’s on that fucking phone 24/7. There’s gotta be a guy for Avery somewhere, even if I haven’t found evidence of that yet.
I pull to my feet. “Shit, I’m supposed to sit on Eric until showtime.”
She frowns. “Why?”
I shake my head, annoyed with myself for having said that. “No reason.” And there honestly isn’t. It’s a position after the sound check that I self-appointed myself to. Call it instinct. Call it knowing my brother, but letting him out of sight today is a recipe for disaster. It’s only going to add to the list of possibilities of what might go wrong. A leap in logic, probably, but I don’t want to chance anything given how sound check went.
Fuck, Ethan, a bit dramatic, are we?
I shift my gaze to find Avery staring at me with curiosity. I hold out a hand to her. “Let’s get out of here. Have an early dinner or something?”
She ignores my hand and springs to her feet. “Don’t you want to go find Eric?”
That rubs me the wrong way. “Why? Do you?”
Avery shrugs. “You’re buying dinner. That makes it your guest list. I don’t if you don’t. See, I’m easy.”
There are enough mixed messages in that to make the sex show in my head play again, and my woody revives. I could take it as she wants to be alone with me but is too cool to show it. I could take it as she’s not interested in Eric. One way I can’t take it is that she’s easy.
I gesture her ahead of me to go collect her stuff piled next to an amp without answering her because I never have a clue what to do with half the flirty things Avery says to me. From another girl, I’d take it literally and I wouldn’t need to be prodded a second time to make a move. But she’s the mixed-message queen of California. Ambiguous should be her middle name.
Can’t tell if she’s into me.
Can’t tell if she’s into Eric.
Half the time I can’t tell if she’s into girls instead of guys. No, that last thought is messed up. It’s guys. I forgot about that loser she was dating when she started working for us. Frustration combined with horniness over a girl makes a guy think crazy things.
But in my defense, she’s not like any other girl I’ve known and that makes her intriguing and sexy as fuck and terrific and…like adjectives much, Ethan.
Fuck, I’m hung up on her.
When a guy uses runaway adjectives in his head to describe a girl there’s no help for it. But it’s not totally my fault. There’s nothing about Avery not to want.
I’ve met a lot of women the last six years on the road, and most of them tend to be easy-to-bag fame whores. Perfect for my brother, since he’s interested in only a limited relationship, limited offer type of thing. But anything but good for me. I’m turned on more by what a girl has in her head than in her panties and bra—my gaze strays to the seductive sway of Avery’s ass—fine, so noted, not completely accurate, but brains have to be part of the package to catch my notice and keep it.
As a rule, I don’t use the W word. It’s sexiest, not how I feel about women, and Avery would go apeshit knowing I ever thought it—even if only rarely.
“I think I’m going to make tomorrow’s blog post about you. I don’t think you get enough exposure or recognition. I need to correct that, expose you more.” She says that casually with just enough hint of teasing that I can’t tell if she’s serious.
I toss her a pained expression. “I wish you wouldn’t.”
“What? Expose you?” She looks up with poorly concealed amusement. “Gosh, you’re edgy about everything today. As if I’m going to find out something about you in the next twenty-four hours that’s going to completely ruin my opinion of you.”
She shakes her head, and her purring laugh strokes my nerve centers.
“Let’s keep the PR only focused on Eric, shall we?”
She waves off my comment. “My blog, my rules. Remember? I write what I want about the band, uncensored. Afraid I might ruin your game with the girls?”
She can’t be serious. Game? What game? I don’t have one. Sure, I’ve had my share of girlfriends, but they never work out. Being in a band and having a relationship doesn’t fit well together. “That’s exactly it, Avery. If you tell people what you think of me I might never get laid again.”
She frowns with a pout this time. “If I tell people what I think of you I’ll have to beat back the girls with a stick just to get a little Q & A material for my blog.”
“I doubt that.”
Her lower lip protrudes even more and I disappear from this conversation by squatting to scoop up her things.
“Aren’t you curious what I’m gonna write?”
“No…” I say that in a long, exaggerated way.
“Well, you should be. Never trust a blogger. Isn’t that a motto somewhere?”
“I trust you.”
“Do you?” The way her voice lowers makes me glance over my shoulder to meet her lush brown stare.
“Absolutely. We wouldn’t be friends otherwise.”
“Good point.” She nods efficiently. “But haven’t you ever wondered what I think of you?”
I debate this silently. I’m not sure why I’ve never asked what her read is on me. If nothing else, it’d be interesting. Avery’s an interesting girl and her mind works in unexpected ways that keep me guessing. Like her insights on Eric. I didn’t see that and to be honest I didn’t like it. Too much of the tragic hero, the bad guy who isn’t really bad. The kind of romantic crap girls invent to sell themselves on a misguided notion that a guy isn’t really an asshole.
That one I didn’t expect to hear from Avery’s delectable mouth. I wouldn’t have thought her prone to the same kind of harmful delusions too many girls tell themselves so they can make a mistake with a guy they assume is misunderstood.
Rising, my arms loaded with her junk, I say, “No need to wonder. Something tells me I’m going to be reading it online tomorrow whether I want to or not.”
Without warning she takes her possessions from my arms. “You’ll want to. I promise.”
She marches ahead of me toward the stage stairs and I amble behind her, not convinced even if she looks confident and pleased with herself.
When I catch up to her she has that thoroughly kissable half grin claiming her lips as if she’s enjoying my apprehension.
As we cross the parking lot, I rummage in my pocket for my car keys. “Where do you want to go?”
She shoots me a look from beneath her long lashes. “It’s your adventure. I’m just along for the ride.” And her flirty-girl chirrup gives rise to one ready-to-ride boner.
“Hello. Earth to Ethan.” She nudges me with an arm. “Are you going to open the car door so I can set down my stuff?”
I flush, moving around her for the handle. “Sorry. Like I said, it’s been a long day.”
“I’m sure you have a lot on your mind.”
If only you knew—scratch that, it’s better she doesn’t.
Half of her disappears into the back seat to carefully deposit her things, and I have to watch. No choice in it. Not when a girl bends over that way and has an ass like that.
Damn cocks. It’s just not right that even good guys have to war with them. And I am one of the good guys. I think things. I don’t do them. No matter how much I want to—and I really want to—I never cross the line with Avery.
She straights up and turns toward me, beaming. “There. Work put aside. I’m all yours for the rest of the day.” Then she smirks in a sweet way as her head tilts. “Until I’m not. So you better figure out fast what you wanna do with me, mister.”
We’re standing so close it’d take nothing to kiss her and show her exactly what I want to do with her. For a moment, I indulge the fantasy of pinning her to the car and devouring her mouth. With how she’s standing—face lifted to me, eyes wide open and locked on mine, and her body so near the smell of her makes me nearly light-headed—it doesn’t only seem like kissing her is the next move she expects, but the only next move there is.
I want her so badly.
Then I step back and I open the front door for her. “Do we need to make any stops before we eat?”
Now she’s staring at me quizzically. “Why?”
“Just trying to be considerate. I thought maybe you’d like to swing by your place to change or something.”
“Why? Is there something wrong with what I’m wearing? Do I need to change for where we’re going? Or are you worried we won’t have time before we need to be back at the amphitheater tonight?”
Her dainty brows furrow as she searches my face.
“No. You look great, Avery.” And she does. Better than great to me.
She plops down in the passenger seat. She sighs and her lips droop. Oh fuck, I’ve done something to hurt her. I can’t stand the thought of her being sad.
I crouch down in the doorway. “Listen, Avery. I wasn’t suggesting anything.”
She does jerky shakes of her head. “I know. You never do.”
Never do? I rake a hand through my hair to keep from touching her and try to figure out what’s happening here. “Hey, can we restart this and go have fun together?”
She shrugs. “Nothing to restart.”
I nod, even though I’m not sure what that means. Or rather, how she said that. “Good. Because I could really use a little alone time with my best friend.”
Her eyes shoot to my face and make me tense. “Is that what I am?”
“Yeah,” I say, holding her gaze. “I thought you knew that.”
She shakes her head and her gaze lowers.
“Well, you should have figured that out, Avery.” I set my hand on her shoulder and lean in closer. “I would have never made it through the last eight months if you hadn’t been on the road with us. You’re the one bright spot in my day most days.”
I plant a soft kiss on her cheek, deliberately in like-you style but covertly giving in to my need to touch her. The instant blast of her makes my body take control and I’m lightly spraying my lips down her jaw as my hands find her hair.
She runs a fingertip along my cheekbone and her face moves, causing me to lean back. “Let’s get out of here, Ethan.”
And I’m hard again. Not because her breathy tone implies she wants to go somewhere other than dinner, but because it sharply reminds me I want to go somewhere other than dinner with her. Like bed. Now.
To return things to light and give the hard-on in my pants time to simmer down, I smile. “Not mad at me anymore?”
“Of course,” she says impishly. “Why would you think otherwise?”
I don’t like that question. So much so that I can’t stop myself from testing if I’m taking it wrong. “Maybe because I kissed you. I’ve never done that before.”
She laughs with a wave of dismissal. “On the cheek. Like a friend should.”
She’s nicely pushed me back into the friend zone and she shoots me that smile that lands in my heart and threatens my willpower every time.
I straighten up and quickly close her door.