God, was that really him? It couldn’t be.

Denver opened her mouth, on the verge of shouting she didn’t know what, when a blur of movement from the back of the bus stole her words. A blinding amount of bare skin made her throw up a hand to block her eyes. Jesus.

The defensive move didn’t stop her from hearing the absolute roar of rage as the guy—Mal—pulled the naked dude with a floppy dick out of Ryan’s bed. The guy who was not Ryan.

Denver let out a shuddering breath. Not even close.

“You fucking bastard! How dare you come on her fucking bus with this bimbo and do this shit?” Mal pulled back his fist and plowed it straight into the man’s gut.

It was K-Jerk. Or Kirk. Whatever the hell his name was. The guy who’d ridden from New York upstate with Elle on the bus, headed for locations unknown. He’d been hammering into some groupie with black hair and deeply lined eyes while Elle was back at the hotel, waiting for him to arrive after he’d finished up whatever he’d claimed he had to do. Sweet, hopeful Elle.

“Goddamn bastard,” Denver muttered, rushing forward.

She was tempted to level a few blows of her own. Not that Mal seemed to need her help. The sound of his meaty fists ramming into pliable flesh filled Denver’s head, as did squealing groupie girl’s shouts of distress. She was already getting dressed, hauling on her denim mini dress and cowboy boots in between screeches. She didn’t make a move to help her lover.

Loyalty was a beautiful thing.

Denver balled up her fists and resisted the urge to enter the fray. Much as she wished she could offer her own paltry assistance in kicking the fucker’s ass.

Steward of the bus. Keeper of the peace, remember?

“Mal, enough.” Denver tried to grab Mal’s arm, but she couldn’t get a hold on him. The guy was built like a frigging wrestler. Huge and muscular and filled with enough fury to make a man end up dead.

Not on her bus. She wasn’t going to spend the night cleaning up the mess.

“Christ, Malachi, I said fucking stop!” Denver beat on Mal’s back for a full thirty seconds. When that got no response, she reached around him and grabbed a handful of the one thing sure to make him take notice.

Wrenching on his twig and berries, she held on even when he howled. And howl he did. He also let K-Jerk slump to the floor, a bruised, battered shell of a man.

Just as he deserved.

“Fuck you, Denver,” Mal said, kicking Elle’s dude aside as he braced an arm on the top bunk and cupped his wounded pride.

Probably not that wounded. Denver’s grip wasn’t anything to sneeze at, but she wasn’t used to wrestling with twenty-foot pythons as a rule.

Sweet lord.

Denver glanced at groupie girl—more accurately, at her backside as she scurried down the steps and out the door.

Rat escaping a shaking bus. That was a new fable she hadn’t heard before.

“You can’t kill him,” Denver said in a low voice to Mal, who stared at her out of slitted dark eyes. “You already did plenty. Later, you’ll thank me.”

She strode to the refrigerator and opened the freezer, pulling out an ice pack. The band had their share of hangovers, so keeping one on hand was a smart idea. She walked back to the men and tossed it at Mal.

K-Jerk whimpered. “You’re helping h-him?”

Denver crouched and dragged the guy up by the scruff of the neck, pursing her lips as his puffy black eye focused on her. She hadn’t seen Mal nail him in the face, but he’d gotten him just about everywhere else, as the canvas of bruises on his pale body could attest.

“I helped you by stopping him from killing you. Get off my bus.”

Kirk’s Adam’s apple bobbed and he started to speak. Then he shook his head and dragged his ass up. He stumbled over to the pile of his clothes, pulling them on with jerky, hesitant motions. She and Mal didn’t so much as spare him another full look. When he finally finished dressing, he wiped his mouth and pointed at Mal. “Asshole, I’ll see you again. Next time, you won’t get the first sucker blow.”

Mal didn’t even acknowledge the remark.

The guy shuffled off the bus after stopping long enough to grab his backpack—and only his backpack. Denver checked it before she let him leave. He’d cursed at her, but a single growl from Mal had shut him up quick.

Once the bus door closed behind him, Denver slumped at the small dining room table and buried her head in her hands. What a freaking night. And it wasn’t over yet.

“We have to tell Elle,” she mumbled, not expecting Mal to be close enough to hear. Definitely not anticipating the glass of sun tea that appeared at her elbow.

She gulped it gratefully and stared at the cheerful daisy pattern on the glass as if it could somehow fix all her problems. “Thanks.”

Mal grunted.

“Sorry about your dick.”

“Me too. You got some grip on you, Brownie. You must be popular.”

Instead of his response earning a snarl, she grinned and saluted him with her glass. “You too.”

Surprising the hell out of her, Mal grabbed a beer from the fridge, then pulled out a chair opposite her at the table and dropped his big body into it. He’d put on jeans while she was herding the riff-raff off the bus, which was a huge concession for him. To say Mal wasn’t one for worrying about polite social behavior didn’t come close to the truth. He rather enjoyed making others uncomfortable and delighting in their misery.

Yet he’d just kicked a guy’s ass for hurting Elle. Denver had heard Mal go off on the dude before lighting into him.

“Even if I don’t agree with your methods, what you did tonight was awfully stand-up,” Denver said. “You don’t even like Elle.”

He said nothing. Just brooded into his beer.

She didn’t mind his silence. If anything, she preferred to be the one talking. Around Mal, she didn’t feel like she had to pretty up her thoughts. She could be her genuine, unvarnished, often un-PC self and he wouldn’t judge.

“She’s going to be hurt. I don’t know how to soften that.” Denver swallowed another mouthful of tea.

“I saw your face,” Mal said after a few minutes. Denver jerked up her head to find him watching her. “You weren’t thinking it was that selfish fuck in Ryan’s bed. You thought it was Ryan.”

“It was Ry’s bed.” There was no missing the defensiveness in her voice. “What else was I supposed to think?”

You could’ve tried not believing the worst about him. You keep doing that.

Not that she hadn’t had cause, and not that some of it hadn’t borne out to be true. Those texts about the poker game tonight hadn’t exactly made her think he was telling her everything. Just because she hadn’t seen any replies from him wasn’t vindication either.

Maybe he hadn’t gotten around to it yet. Or maybe he hadn’t wanted in on that one, but he might’ve gone in on the next.

Too many maybes and mights, and most of them weren’t really fair. Ry wasn’t some stranger. He was an important man in her life. Too important.

And that wasn’t even touching the fact that she was hiding so fucking much from him as well. Not him in particular, but everyone. That she’d run and lied and used diversions mostly to save her own behind didn’t change the reality.

God, reality freaking sucked.

Even though Ryan hadn’t spilled his guts about the game, he was still the guy she cared about. The one she’d spent so much time with, getting to know and becoming friends.

Now they were in all new territory. Friends with benefits. Even if they never slept together again, could they really go back? Once that note had been struck, there was no un-playing it. No un-ringing that particular very dirty bell.

Especially when she wanted to play the fuck out of it again. Soon. No matter how much she told herself otherwise.

“It being Ryan’s bed doesn’t mean anything if you trust the guy,” Mal finally replied. “You don’t.”

She wiped up the condensation from her glass. “Sex changes things.”

“How? If the guy is decent, just seeing his dick isn’t going to make him turn into a jerk.”

“No. It’s not that. But people get mad and sometimes they lash out…”

Mal said nothing.

“Like you said earlier. He could’ve wanted revenge because I hurt him. Maybe. I don’t even know how. It wasn’t supposed to be mean anything.”

“How’s it not going to mean anything when you guys were tight before you fucked?”

The bald honesty in Mal’s tone had her huffing out a laugh. “I guess it has to. And that’s why I’ve been a royal bitch to him. I didn’t sign on for any of this. I just wanted to drive the bus. Make a few friends if the dice rolled that way…” Bad analogy. Moving on. “But overall, it was about the job. I drive. That’s what I do. This interpersonal shit is beyond me.”

“You should’ve been born with a dick. Makes your life much simpler.”

“I can’t argue with you there. Though women can—”

“Do anything men can do, blah blah blah, and do it in heels. Not arguing with you there, Oprah, just saying you don’t see me getting all twisted up about fucking someone I’m close to.”

“Because you aren’t close to anyone who isn’t related to you by blood. And even then, you barely talk to Michael.”

Mal tipped his beer her way. “See? Answer all your own questions.”

“Was there a question in there? I don’t even know.” She pulled at her own hair then sighed as she flopped back in her chair. “What’re we gonna do about Elle?”

“We? I did my part, Susie Sunshine. This emotional shit is all on you.”

Denver sat up straighter. “You care about her. You have to, or else you wouldn’t have torn that dude apart. I know you. You don’t get involved.”

“He was on my bus. I’m not putting up with that shady BS on here. Not in my space when I’m trying to fucking sleep.”

“That’s not all it was. Maybe Elle matters to you more than you realize.”

“Little Ricki is in a band I’m in. If you wanna pretend that makes us besties,” he did air quotes around the word, “then fine, you just do that. But I would’ve done it for anyone.”

“Except it wasn’t for anyone. It was for Elle.” Denver glanced down at her phone as an incoming text came in and shut her eyes. “Fuck. How did she know we were talking about her?”

“Probably more like she knew her dick wasn’t there to ride.”

Ignoring him, Denver forced herself to read the screen.

Elle: Hey, sorry to bug you so late. You haven’t seen Kirk? He was meeting friends at Doc’s, but I’m there right now & the place is closing down for the night.

Denver bit her lip. “Fuck, she’s only a couple blocks away from here. She must’ve had the driver come pick her up again from the hotel. What do I say?”

“Tell her that the dude she was fucking was a tool and she doesn’t have to worry about him anymore.” When Denver didn’t move, Mal held out a hand. “Want me to? I’ll lay some truth on her.”

“No. God, she’s going to be devastated. I think she believed they really had a connection.”

“What connection? She barely moaned when he fucked her.”

Denver narrowed her eyes at Mal. “You listened to them having sex?”

“More like it was impossible not to. Bus isn’t huge.” He lumbered to his feet and dropped his empty beer can in the recycling bin. “I’m going back to bed. Couldn’t fucking sleep with all that racket earlier.”

“What about Elle?”

He’d already disappeared into the back.

Denver sighed and tapped out a reply to Elle.

Denver: Can you come back to the bus, please? I’ll explain when you get here.

Elle’s response was immediate.

Elle: Explain? What’s going on?

Denver: It’s just easier to tell you in person. I’ll see you soon.

She tossed her phone on the table and rose to refill her glass of tea. She debated chasing it with a beer, then decided she’d had enough alcohol for one night. As awful as it would be on her to tell Elle what had happened, this wasn’t her heartache or her drama. She’d be there for her as a friend in whatever way she could, of course, but she needed to shore up her emotional reserves to deal with her own hot mess.

Also known as one Ryan Waters, who she needed to talk to sooner rather than later. Her reaction to finding Kirk in his bed had proven that more succinctly than anything else.

First, she needed to help Elle through the knowledge that she’d been seeing a user and a womanizer.

Bastard.

Denver sighed for about the fifth time since Kirk had left. Elle was doubly screwed, since Denver was the one around to help her through this traumatic event. Denver had no illusions about her ability to be soft and nurturing. She’d been an accounting student for a reason. Numbers made sense to her. So did machines and vehicles. Push the gas and vroom.

People? Not so much. They required different pressures and tacks to get them to do what you wanted.

Ahem. She meant they required different methods. She didn’t want to make people do what she said.

She’d never admit it anyway.

An empty glass of sun tea later, a gentle knock sounded at the bus door. Great. The time of reckoning had arrived.

Denver pushed to her feet. Better get it over with. In this case, delaying tactics helped no one.

Except the jackass probably already asleep in the back bunk. Useless man beast.

She opened the bus door to find Elle shivering in the rain. “Where’s your jacket?” Denver scolded, dragging her inside. “You’re freezing.”

“It’s July. It’s not supposed to be cold in July. I mean, what the hell?”

“Upstate New York,” Denver said sagely. “They get four seasons all in one day sometimes.”

“How do you know? Weren’t you born in LA?”

Denver grabbed Elle a towel from the bathroom, then tossed it to her. “Yeah. But you know, bus driver. I’ve been everywhere and seen everything.” Including things she’d never discuss with anyone.

Elle smiled faintly and sat on the couch as she dried her long ropes of wheat-blond hair. “You and Johnny.”

“You know your music, Crandall.” Denver sat down on the couch opposite Elle and gripped her hands between her knees. “I don’t want to drag this out. I suck at this kind of thing so I’ll just apologize right now that you have to hear this from me and not from one of the others. Well, from Jules or Lauren. I can’t imagine Molly would be any better at this than me.”

“It’s okay, Den. What did he do?” Before Denver could answer, Elle lowered the towel and scooted forward on the sofa. “Did he come on to you?”

“Oh, honey, I wish it had been that.”

Elle wrinkled her nose. “You do? You like Kurt?”

“Kurt?” Denver snorted. “Oh my God. I thought his name was Kirk.”

Elle’s throat worked as she swallowed. “Just tell me. Please.”

Straight out and fast. That’s the kindest way.

“I came back to the bus and heard some noises. They were coming from Ryan’s bunk.”

Elle’s expression relaxed. “Ry?”

“No. Not Ry.” Denver cleared her throat. “Sweetie, he was having sex with a groupie in Ryan’s bed.” Which would require serious extermination of the mattress later, but that wasn’t pertinent right then.

“A groupie? Who?”

“No one I’d ever seen before.” Denver rose after Elle jerked to her feet. “Look, I know it’s tough to hear, and Lord knows, I’m pretty much the worst ever at delivering this kind of news, but—”

“Maybe it was a mistake.” Elle rubbed the towel over her hair once more and tossed the towel on the couch. “The bus is dark and it’s late and you were probably drinking.”

Denver frowned. “I hardly ever drink.”

“You do after shows. Besides, you and Ryan were fighting, so maybe you got lit. Who knows? It’s okay. You can do whatever. I’m just saying, it’s easy to get mixed up.” Elle rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms, still studded with rain drops and goose bumps, and turned to face Denver. “Maybe you made a mistake.”

The plea in Elle’s voice nearly swayed her, as did the sheen of wetness in Elle’s big blue eyes. But lying to her wouldn’t help her long term. She might not like hearing the truth now, but better this way than when she was in deeper.

“She didn’t get mixed up. He was balls deep in that trashy bitch,” Mal said flatly from the back of the bus.

Elle paled and dug her nails into her arms as she closed her eyes.

Inwardly, Denver winced. Of all times, Mal had to pick now to nut up. “I’ve got this,” she said tightly. “Go back to bed.”

“I can’t sleep with all your blathering anyway, so might as well just say it clear. Your guy was a fucking douche. Be glad you realized it now. Now go to bed and get some goddamn sleep, and I’ll do the same.”

Mal had turned around and taken a step when Elle spun on her heel and charged toward him. She slammed the heel of her hand against his shoulder blade and he didn’t move. “What do you know about it? Huh? I thought the only trashy bitches on this bus were the ones you brought on here.”

Mal didn’t react, though she didn’t stop striking him. Every word she’d said she punctuated with a blow.

“Elle, it’s not his fault. I swear to you, he was only trying to help.” Denver rushed forward, stopping just short of touching Elle. She seemed brittle enough to shatter. “Neither of us knew what to do. We just wanted to get him off this bus and away from you.”

“Fuck that. I knew what to do and I did it. He was a piece of garbage, and I got rid of him.” Mal turned and stared down at Elle, who didn’t so much as back up an inch. “If you’ve got a problem with that, go find him in the gutter where I dumped him.”

Elle reared back and slapped him, so hard that Denver recoiled. Christ, this was all going sideways.

Before any more blood could be shed, Denver grabbed Elle’s arms and banded them behind her back. “No. Don’t do something you’ll regret for someone who isn’t worth it.”

Mal stared at Elle and said nothing. His cheek had already flamed bright red from her palm.

If Elle had tried to fight her, Denver would’ve been prepared. What she wasn’t ready for was Elle’s shoulders shaking as she began to sob.

Denver shifted Elle around and cupped her head to her shoulder as she cried, her gaze connecting with Mal’s over Elle’s head.

Without another word, he went back to his bunk.

Denver led Elle over to the couch and tugged her down, half pulling her onto her lap as she cried. She didn’t know what else to do. Elle was tall for a woman, but she didn’t weigh much. Her tears were enough to make her petite frame shudder.

Worst of all, Denver was a sympathetic crier from way back, so listening to Elle lose it had her on the verge of a floodfest herself. So she screwed up her eyes and pressed her cheek to Elle’s head while her friend released all the pain.

Rocking her silently. Rocking them both.

“I just wanted someone, you know?” Elle asked between sobs.

“I do.” God, did she ever.

“I knew he wasn’t forever, but sometimes…sometimes it doesn’t matter.”

“No. It doesn’t.”

“And he seemed to like me. He told me I was pretty.”

“You’re beautiful.”

“Not more beautiful than that groupie.” Elle sat up straighter and rubbed at the mascara gathering under her eyes. “He was only alone for half a night. Am I really that forgettable?”

“No. He’s that much of a jackass.” Denver cupped Elle’s cheek in her hand and blotted up her tears with her thumb. “Any guy who’ll cheat on you isn’t worth a single tear.”

And she’d thought Ryan would do that to her. That he could. Though it wasn’t cheating because they weren’t truly together. They couldn’t be.

Even if it sure as hell felt like they were.

“I know that. Logically. But I’m just tired of being alone. It’s been so long since I’ve had someone in my life. The guys I used to know…”

“What?”

“I can’t go back to that life. To those people.” Elle’s lower lip wobbled. “So it was like starting all over again. No real friends. No one to lean on. Just my brother, and he’s so far away and he has his own family now. It’s just me, and I’m all alone.”

“Hey, you listen here. You aren’t alone at all. Everyone in this band is your family. You know that damn well.”

Elle smiled through her tears. “Even Molly?”

“Even her.”

“My brother slept with her sister. I read that in a tabloid once.”

“Thanks for sharing.”

Elle’s smile deepened until a dimple winked at the corner of her mouth. “Bands are so incestuous. Normally anyway. No one hooks up in ours.”

Denver hummed to herself mentally as she smiled and nodded. Technically, she wasn’t part of the band. Staff didn’t count.

“Well, Randy hooked up with Jules. So I guess that counts? Sort of. The tech crew is kind of close to the band itself.”

And denied.

“Not that I’d want to sleep with any of these freaks. They’re like my brothers.”

“Even Mal?”

At once, her face closed down and her eyes shuttered. “No. He’s just the jerk who only speaks to me long enough to say rude things.”

“He attacked K-Jer—um, Kurt. I mean, he flew at the dude. I couldn’t get back there fast enough to stop Mal from whaling on him. He pounded on him like a slab of beef. He was so pissed at him for screwing around on you.”

Elle sniffled. “Nah. He probably just wanted to beat on someone for liking me.”

“No, Elle, he was furious for you. The stuff he said—if I hadn’t been there, he might’ve killed the guy for hurting you.”

Elle picked at a loose thread on her jeans. “He couldn’t care less if I get hurt. Haven’t you heard how he speaks to me? He treats me like he thinks I’m nothing.”

No, he treats you like he has a thing for you, and he’s sixteen instead of twenty-six.

But Denver didn’t say that, because she didn’t know if her own recent dalliance was coloring her perception more romantically than usual. She definitely hadn’t noticed any sparks between Mal and Elle before, just general malcontent. But tonight, damn if they weren’t firing up in all directions.

Or else she was as horny as fuck and seeing dongs and hearts. Stranger things had happened.

“Guys are weird,” Denver said.

There. That was safer than ruminating on Mal possibly crushing on Elle. The only crushing that dude did was of bones.

Anything else was beyond the realm.

“You can say that again.” Elle let out a long sigh. “I really missed sex.”

“Girl…” Denver began, and Elle glanced up, a faint blush tingeing her cheeks. “I feel you. So much. Being stuck on a crowded bus with all these hormones and not getting any dick is a special kind of hell.”

“It is. I’m not one for one-nighters either. At least I didn’t used to be. Maybe I need to go on Tinder or something. See if I can make me a match.”

Denver patted Elle’s leg. “Now you’re talking. But no rebounds. Give it some time first so you don’t jump on the first limp wang that crosses your path.” Elle giggled and Denver couldn’t help smiling in return. “Let’s go back to your hotel.”

“Really?” Elle asked. “You’ll come hang with me for the rest of the night?”

Denver couldn’t help warming at the invitation. Elle was such a sweet soul. How she’d ended up in such a remarkably cold business, Denver had no clue. “Sure. We can trash talk men until you fall asleep.”

“I’m not that tired.”

“Then we’ll trash talk men until sunrise. Which isn’t all that far away.” Denver barely managed to smother a yawn.

What a frigging night.

Denver called the driver to come pick them up and left Elle on the sofa playing with her phone while she went back to tell Mal she was taking off.

“I heard,” he said shortly.

“You cool being here alone?”

“No, I’m scared. Can you call my mommy? She’s probably recovering from a nose job in Burbank.”

Denver had to laugh. “You’re a serious dick, dude. And now that I’ve felt it, I know that’s the truth in more ways than one.” She winked at him and left him chuckling.

Imagine that.

“Ready?” she asked Elle.

“Sure thing.”

They’d just gotten settled in the SUV back to the hotel when Elle asked, “You touched Mal’s dick? Really? Ugh.”

Denver just shook her head and laughed.