High as a kite. Soaring higher than a plane. That’s how it feels playing for thousands of screaming, singing, amazing fans, and I haven’t taken a damn thing. The natural buzz reverberates and courses through my veins with an unmatched energy even after we hop off stage.

I’m already addicted.

“You did good tonight, kid.” Austin tips his chin with a compliment that shouldn’t mean so much considering I’ve only known him a few days.

“Thanks. That was . . . fuck.” I run my hand along the nape of my neck as the realization hits me. “That was the most fun I’ve ever had playing.” I’ve performed on some of the most prestigious stages in the world, and yet none produced the level of joy pulsating from my soul right now.

“Not bad, huh?” Austin slings his arm around my shoulder and we shuffle in tow with the rest of the band toward the bus.

“Is it always that . . . powerful?”

“You get used to some of this . . .” He juts his finger over his shoulder before turning to wave at the crowd of fans not twenty yards away.

“I love you, Austin Jones!” a woman shouts, thankfully from behind the gate. That’s one thing I have to appreciate. The tour has been managed down to every little detail, including precautions for our safety. The obsessive fans are slightly terrifying, and I get the feeling they’d maul any one of us if given the chance.

He lets loose a chuckle and walks us forward. “The crazy. You get used to the crazy. But on stage it doesn’t matter how many times or how many places we play, it’s always good. Humbling, considering it wasn’t that long ago we played dive bars for free beer.”

They’ve done all the heavy lifting, and I’m here enjoying the harvest. That can’t be easy. It’s no secret Three Ugly Guys has struggled over the years to keep a drummer. I’m damn lucky to be here. Okay, maybe luck doesn’t have everything to do with it. A little eavesdropping mixed with a little blackmail is more like it. But there’s nothing wrong with playing dirty if no one gets hurt.

“You ladies coming? Or you gonna chat out here all night?” Trent calls to us from the open bus door.

“Fuck you!” Austin hollers, but there’s no trace of anger in his words. Only a sense of comradery and brotherhood. A strange pang of jealousy twists in my gut. I’ve never been one to want something I don’t have. Mostly because I get whatever I want. But money can’t buy their kind of friendship, and it’s something I’ve never had. Or ever will.

My uncle sits at the table inside the bus, and his eyebrows rise a tick as I step inside ahead of Austin. I wasn’t self-conscious with my shirt off on stage, but one look from him and I suddenly am. Appearances are important, and he’s told me over and over how absolutely un-rock ’n roll I am, and to do whatever the wardrobe team asked. But it was hot as hell on that stage.

Austin plops into one of the recliners and slaps his stomach. “I’m starving.”

“Good show tonight.” My uncle sets his cell down on the table and meets Trent’s stare. “Opener needs work. I’ll talk to them before I head back to LA.”

“Not gonna ride along for our next stop?” Trent’s lips pull into a smirk as he leans against the opposite wall, next to where Opal sits in a chair. It takes everything in my willpower not to stare at her legs or how high up that modest dress rides over her crossed legs.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Bedo shoves to his feet and grabs his phone. “You don’t need a babysitter.”

Sean coughs. Austin fights laughter. Trent holds his smirk.

I’m missing something here.

“Three hours ’til the buses roll out.” Bedo stops at the door, turning to point and glare at each of us a long second. “Don’t be late.”

As soon as he’s out the door Trent walks over to the kitchen and grabs a water from the fridge.

“I’m gonna make a call.” Sean nods at Trent. “Cool if I use your room?”

“As long as you don’t jerk off in there, knock yourself out.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll use your pillow to wipe my hands.” Sean chuckles, then ducks as Trent hurls the water bottle at his head.

I turn to Austin. “What do we do for three hours?”

“Eat and party, my man.” Austin digs around in his bunk and retrieves a change of clothes. “And if you’re lucky, food won’t be the only thing you eat tonight.” He sticks out his tongue and waggles it for everyone to see.

My gaze goes to Opal. I can’t help myself. The blush that works up her cheeks as she stares at the floor only fuels my interest. How did such an innocent thing end up working for these guys?

“Austin. There’s a lady in our presence,” Trent practically growls and I quickly look away before I’m busted for staring.

“Sorry.” Austin shrugs, but he doesn’t look sorry at all. If anything, he looks pleased with himself. “Opal, you’re coming, too. Right?”

Her eyes dart to Trent’s and then back to the floor where she scuffs the sole of her boot beneath the chair legs. “Nah, y’all have fun. I’m going to enjoy the quiet while I can.”

Austin shrugs, not looking all that disappointed at her answer. “I get first,” he says and heads down the hall toward the bathroom for a shower.

Trent rakes a hand through his hair and turns to Opal. “You know, Lexi used to stay back, too. The first tour we did together.”

“Really?” Opal sits up with an eagerness that lights the brightness of her eyes. A smile takes over her face, and it strikes me as odd that she’d care so much about what Trent’s girlfriend used to do on the road. Her gaze flicks to mine and her smile dims.

Shit. She caught me staring. I pretend to look busy, shuffling through the storage cabinet to retrieve a set of clean clothes, but I’m unable to help myself from studying their interaction.

She glances at Trent as he kicks back in one of the chairs.

“It must be a woman thing.” She says the words slowly.

He nods, his gaze lingering a long moment on her face before he reaches for his cell.

I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing, wishing we had two showers, or that Austin would hurry the hell up. I’m hungry, and the energy buzzing through my body has nowhere to go. If I were back home I’d find a drum set to beat it onto, or use the piano if my mom were home. Mom and Dad. I haven’t thought of them since yesterday and only because they shut off my phone. A pang of guilt wedges its way into my head for not being a better son. It should bother me that I haven’t spoken to them. Or that they haven’t tried to reach out, but it’s the opposite. All I feel is relief and a rampant sense of freedom. For the first time in my life I can be whomever I want. I can do what I want and I don’t have to hide a damn thing.

My gaze travels back to Opal because she’s most definitely wedged her way onto the list of things I want.

“Who’s next?” Austin bursts down the hall wearing only a pair of boxer briefs.

“I’ll go.” I raise my hand but no one pays attention.

“Put some fucking clothes on,” Trent says without hardly looking up from his phone. “We all know you’re full of yourself.”

“Sorry.” Austin winks at Opal, forcing her pale cheeks to a bright shade of pink. He tugs his jeans over his hips, leaving the fly open before strutting across the bus. He sits right in her lap and kisses the top of her head. “Sure you don’t want to join us, sweetheart?”

The fuck? My gaze narrows at their closeness. Are they together? No. No way someone so beautiful and sweet is with a playboy like him. She’s not a casual fuck kinda girl. It’s written in the way she carries herself and how she blushes at everything.

He murmurs something in her ear and instead of pushing him away she giggles, her cheeks flaring again. Fucking Austin. I have no reason for it, but jealousy churns in my gut at their closeness.

“Dude, you going or what?” Trent says.

“Jesus.” I snap out of staring at the couple, a tinge of envy making me more irritable than I should be. “Give me five.”

“I’ll go invite Everlyn.”

“Wait, who? And more importantly, is she hot?” Austin cocks his head at Trent.

“The band who opened for us, dumbass. Two dudes and a chick. And I’m pretty sure she’s taken . . . and too young for you.” Trent raises his brows, a warning to Austin that I personally agree with. Trent pops off his chair and struts outside.

Austin doesn’t seem insulted or derailed by Trent’s opinion and whispers something else to Opal that makes her laugh.

I trudge to the bathroom and crank the shower. Peeling off the stretchy black jeans and my underwear, I step into the hot stream and with more gusto than necessary scrub the sweat from my skin and wash my hair. It shouldn’t bother me. I shouldn’t care. But I fucking hate that Austin and Opal are alone right now. Which is stupid.

She’s not mine. She’s obviously with him, though the thought of it drives me mad. There’s no way someone like him treats her right. I saw the way he flirted with all the VIP ticket holders after the show. Right in front of Opal, too. Sure, the women were gorgeous, but they had the piranha vibe I’m all too familiar with. Users. Women looking for a step up or maybe just a loaded baby daddy. I might not be used to the rock star attention, but it doesn’t matter if you’re famous or born with a silver spoon, there are always women who will exploit their assets to get what they want.

Dressing quickly, I bang the door open with more force than necessary and fake a harsh cough. If Opal and Austin are sucking face, or worse, I don’t want to see it.

“Can I get in there?” Sean says at my back and I startle, not expecting him to be there.

“Yeah, sure.” I shuffle out with my dirty clothes, surprised to find the area empty. Laughter and the murmur of voices come from outside the bus, but I don’t feel like joining everyone yet. Blowing out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, I try to relax. I reach one hand over my shoulder and rub at the back of my neck. The shower clicks on, the rush of water heard through the wall.

“Hey.” Trent bounds up the steps and back inside the bus. “Shower free?”

“Sean’s in there.”

“Cool. Everyone’s outside.” Trent gives my back a pat as he passes through to his room in the back of the bus.

My fingers tap at my side, and my stomach grumbles loudly. God, I hope we go somewhere good. The fine dining and cuisine San Francisco has to offer is outstanding, but I can’t say I’ve wandered the city past midnight before. All my prior trips here were with my parents.

Walking over to the kitchen, I pull open different drawers and cabinets. I’m hungry. I’m irritable. I’m coming down from the stage high, and if we don’t leave soon I’m going to eat this entire box of crackers and then pass out from the carb overload. “God! What’s taking so long? I’m starving!” I mutter to myself.

“You hungry? I can whip something up.” Opal’s sweet voice interrupts from behind, simultaneously kicking up my excitement and slowing my racing thoughts.

I turn to meet her stare. “Cinnamon buns?”

She laughs and though it’s still guarded, her smile lights up her face. “Those take a while. Something else?”

“Honestly? I could eat my hand right now and it’d taste good.”

“Worked up an appetite, huh?” she says with a soft grin, careful to slide past my body without brushing against me. I try not to dwell on the disappointment at her guardedness. “Hmm . . .” She stares at the rows of ingredients. “How about biscuits?”

My stomach rumbles loudly. “That’s a yes.”

She giggles, and I swear the sound does something to me, because instantly my lips pull into a grin. Without another word she busies herself, dropping flour, milk, and a few other things into a ceramic bowl.

“These won’t take too long.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” She mixes the ingredients with an ease and practice that cannot be faked. She doesn’t look at her phone or reference a cookbook either. I admit I haven’t spent much time watching anyone prepare meals, but it’s clear she’s done this often enough that it comes naturally.

A roar of laughter and boisterous conversation from outside draws her attention. Opal glances at the door, and then at me with an entertained smile before setting the bowl to the side and dusting the counter with flour. “I had a hankering for these myself; gives me an excuse to make them. Sorry, I won’t have time to make gravy, too.”

“I don’t know how to make toast,” I deadpan but it’s the truth.

She laughs, a sound I realize I’m eager to hear again. With the dough flattened, she cuts out circular shapes and sets them on a pan.

“Where’d you learn to cook like this?” I don’t know anyone my age who can cook.

Her lips pinch together before she answers, and if I hadn’t been staring I wouldn’t have noticed. “My Grams.”

A real family. For the second time today my heart pangs for a life I never had. One with nurturing grandparents, family gatherings in which the hired caterer wasn’t the greatest priority. One with laughter and love. I shake my head at my own ridiculousness. No one feels sorry for the rich boy who wasn’t hugged enough, and I’m not about to start.

Opal places the pan into the oven. “Okay, these’ll only take a few minutes.”

The sight of flour spread on the counter, a small mess compared to yesterday, kicks my hands into action. Here she is making me food, and I’m standing around like an idiot. I should at least clean up.

I reach for a towel and wet it from the sink.

Down the hall the shower shuts off, doors bang open and shut, and then the shower clicks on again, but neither Trent nor Sean emerge. I’m not ready to share my time with Opal, and secretly delight at their distance. Squeezing the extra water from the towel, I wipe it along the counter.

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

I lift my gaze to Opal, her voice halting mid-sentence at my raised eyebrows. “It’s the least I can do.”

“Okay,” she says, almost breathless.

My entire body tingles with awareness at the sound. As I wipe the counters clean, my mind wrestles up dirty images of Opal on top of this counter. Her wearing nothing more than that damn apron again, legs spread wide and pussy open for me to feast on. Shit. My dick presses against my jeans, a thick outline begging to be set free. I shake my head and intentionally imagine my mother’s disappointed face as I told her I was joining a rock band. My erection shrinks back and I’m all good when I turn back to meet Opal’s sweet smile.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

I open my mouth, confused and also scared she’s a mind reader in addition to a talented cook.

“The show. Tonight. Did you like being on stage?”

Oh. That. “Loved every second.”

“I was surprised.” She meets my gaze and grins. “The way you looked.”

“Oh, yeah.” I chuckle and scrub a hand over my now makeup-free face. “Nineteen nineties called and they want their eyeliner back.”

“No!” she says but lets loose a trail of soft laughter. “I think you looked good.”

“You did?” Interesting. I quirk my head and meet her stare. Did she think I looked as good as she looks to me right now? Not possible. But if she’s attracted to me in the least, then that’s a start.

Her mouth falls open as if she might answer my question, but a timer pings.

“Biscuits,” she whispers and turns away from my gaze. She pulls the flakey bread from the oven and sets them on the counter.

The scent alone causes my mouth to water.

“This bus smells way too good.” Trent pokes his head around the corner, running a towel over his wet hair. He snags one of the biscuits from the pan, taking a bite that scalds considering how he chews, mouth open and fast. Instead of another bite, he sets it down on the counter and grabs a water bottle from the fridge. “Did you make these?”

“Just a li’l something I whipped up,” I say.

“Smartass,” he retorts, rolling his eyes before settling into one of the chairs. He turns to Opal with a smile. “They’re really good.”

“Thank you.” She beams, dishing the rest onto a cooling rack.

“I’m starving. Who are we still waiting on?” Austin strides back inside. “Holy fuck. Are these—?” He swipes one of the biscuits and takes a bite. He moans as his mouth sinks around the bread. “Babe. My God!” He finishes the damn thing in three bites and reaches for another with one hand. His free hand brushes her hip, the touch familiar and intimate. “These are amazing.”

I step forward, nearly knocking into Austin as I reach for a biscuit before they’re all gone. “She didn’t make them for you,” I grumble and shove the bread into my mouth. It’s rude, but I don’t care. I haven’t eaten since this morning—nerves from before the show stealing my appetite—and my patience is thin, especially with a front seat to watch Austin put the moves on Opal while he eats the food she made for me.

“Chill, man.” He takes another off the rack and tosses it at me.

I catch it, but the entire exchange sours my mood and Opal won’t even look at me. I take a gigantic bite. Good God, these are delicious. Not that I expect anything less. I tip my chin at Trent. “We leaving or what?”

Trent nods. “Sean! Come on, man! Call her back later!”

“Her?” I raise my brow, this news to me. “I didn’t know he had a girlfriend.”

“Doesn’t. They’re just friends who love each other.” Trent chuckles.

“I think it’s sweet.” Opal says.

“Dude would wife her tomorrow if she’d let him.” Austin rolls his eyes. “Poor bastard.”

I catch Opal stiffen at his words in just the slightest. Good girl. Stay far, far away from this asshole. Not that I’d be any better. Hell, I am not looking to get twisted up on some girl, even one as compelling as Opal. Yet there’s this need to protect her, to keep her away from anyone who might hurt her, and it’s the strangest thing. I’ve only ever cared about myself.