Screaming internally, I turned and headed out and around the building towards the attached restaurant, walking a little faster to put distance between me and Eric's aggressive niceness. I glanced down at my phone. 1:03. Shit, I was late. So much for changing for lunch. I'd wanted to get dressed up, first impressions and all, but I guess I was going to have to conduct business in the T-shirt and yoga pants I'd wore for traveling.

No big deal. I was ready.

We were meeting with Jimmy Catanese - the sound engineer and owner of the recording studio - for lunch, as a kind of get-to-know you thing. Back in the city, it had seemed like a good idea to ask him to please meet us at the old fashioned restaurant stuck to the hotel and as I opened the main door, I had a momentary burst of pride at my foresight. This way we didn't have to wrangle cars or timetables. There was no way anyone could be late.

"Hi boys," I greeted the band as I sat down at the oval shaped table covered in a checked tablecloth. Then I looked again and my heart sank. "He's late?" I asked.

The three of them looked at each other like schoolboys caught cheating in class. Ewan shrugged, but didn't say anything.

I leaned back in my chair, the headache that had been lurking in the back of my brain the whole way up here now asserting itself more prominently. "Every minute of time we waste is another dollar the label charges you guys," I reminded them.

"Hey don't blame us," Hudson protested. "We're here."

"Yes, you are," I said. "But Jules isn't. And Jimmy's going to be here..." I checked my phone. "Well, fuck, he's already supposed to be here right now. Where the fuck is Jules?"

Another shrug from Ewan. I glared at him. "He's your best mate, right? Can't you keep him in line?"

Ewan leaned back and raised an eyebrow. "Now lass, you're our manager," he said in his soft brogue. "Isn't that your job?"

I felt my cheeks redden. I pushed back from the table, making my chair scrape back across the floor. "I'll go get him," I hissed. "He probably passed out drunk on the bed."

When I booked our cabins, I'd purposefully stuck Jules far away from the others. And as far away from my cabin as I could get him. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but the half mile hike it took me to get from the restaurant to where he was staying had me second-guessing myself.

When I finally reached the front porch, I raised my hand to pound on his door, but to my surprise I saw his door was propped open with a boot.

I smiled and took a deep breath as I shoved the door open. "Jules!" I yelled as soon as I set foot into the living room.

I heard a snort and looked up to see him standing in the loft near his bed. "We have a meeting, get down here!" I barked.

He turned with the biggest, cheekiest grin on his face and something red in his hands.

Something red...and lacey.

"Hey love," he said, coming down the stairs as he held it up to his chest. "Is this my size?"

"Are you...that's my bra!" I lunged up three steps at once to grab it from him.

And that's when I saw my suitcase, unzipped and flung open on his bed.

He deftly ducked out of the way and danced back up the stairs. "Now I don't know much about lingerie, love, but I do like your taste," he chuckled, running his fingers along the straps.

I lifted my chin. "Give that to me," I said coldly, holding out my waiting hand.

He shrugged and handed it over with a pout. "I thought I looked pretty."

"Don't ever violate my privacy like that again."

"You're the one who came storming into my cabin. Talk about privacy?" He spread his hands and nodded behind him towards my open suitcase. "The porter just brought it over. Lovely bald chap named Joey. I help him unload and he brought it all info me. Guess he I thought it was mine."

"But you opened it."

He grinned. "I thought it was mine too."

My heart thudded in my ears. "Bullshit! Your bag looks nothing like mine," I shouted.

He gave a dramatic wince, pinching his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "Love, I've got a splitting headache, you're gonna need to talk a wee bit softer."

I was going to kill him. Right here, right now, I was going to murder him with my bare hands. "That's because you got drunk before noon."

"Aye," he agreed. "So you understand why I mistook your case for mine. I only opened it a wee bit."

"Enough to take out my bra."

"And enough to see what else you packed for the trip too, love."

My face flamed. My vibrator. Fucking asshole. "Give me back my suitcase."

"Of course." He turned to start zipping my case back up again. "Here you are, love. Good as new. But I just need you to know. If you ever get sick of that contraption, and want to feel the real deal, you know where to come."

"Fuck off," I hissed, snatching my suitcase out of his hands with as much dignity as I could muster and set it next to me. It fell over, immediately bashing me in the ankles. "Seriously? Fuck right the hell off."

Jules smiled like I hadn't even said anything. His tone was one of idle musing. "I mean -" He turned back to me with a wink and cupped his crotch. "You've already seen the goods, right love?" I opened my mouth to protest but he shook his head. "Yeah I know you did, 'cause you couldn't keep your eyes off it."

"You're disgusting."

His dark eyes gleamed. "And I'm the drummer, so you know I've got good rhythm. Might even be able to match it to your preferred settings." He winked.

My cheeks burned. I'd had enough. "Fuck off," I repeated, and whirled to stalk out the door.

He chuckled behind me. "August?" he called.

I raised my voice and called back without turning my head. "I told you to fuck off!"

"That you did. But before I do, thought I'd give you your case?"

I rushed back up to his door and snatched it from him. It slammed down and immediately bounced up to slam into my ankle as I rushed to wheel it away. And this time the echo of his laughter followed me all the way across the lawn.