“Good show,” Adam says as he cracks his neck. “I’m getting too old for this shit.”

“You are old.”

“You’re older than I am,” Adam reminds me.

Even though I’m forty-two, I enjoy the rush of performing. I’d just like it not to be so rough on my aging body. I don’t remember having to take this many painkillers a few years ago, but between the traveling, shit food, and performing—I feel old as fuck.

Even though I love acting much more than I thought I would, I love the fans more. I don’t have this kind of fun when I’m stuck on a set all day.

I look over at my brother, “Randy is older than all of us, so there’s that.”

“Fuck off,” Randy tosses back. “We’ve got a few weeks before we need to meet up again since the tour is over. I’m going to head home to Savannah. She said the kids are acting up. It’s time for Daddy to come lay the smack down.”

“Right.” I laugh. Those kids have him wrapped around his finger. “We all know Vannah is who they listen to.”

“Don’t piss in my Cheerios.”

“We’re heading out to the meet and greet.” Shaun slaps my leg. “You coming?”

I gave my manager strict instructions to get that girl back here. I practically drew him a map on how to find her. She better be there or I’m canning his ass. I loved watching her face while I sang to her. She was like a deer in the headlights as I laid it on thick. I almost lost my shit when she yelled out that she loved me. She couldn’t cover her face fast enough.

It was cute.

I like cute.

I also haven’t gotten laid in about a month, so this seems perfect. Especially if she’s good in bed. Plus, since we’re done touring and my mother has been up my ass about spending time with her, I’m sticking around Tampa for a few weeks anyway. It may be nice to have a distraction until I start filming the next season of A Thin Blue Line in two months.

“Let’s go meet the people.” I stand, stretching my arms over my head. What I want to say is, “Let’s go find the blonde.”

We’re contractually obligated to attend a meet and greet at every show. I fucking hate it. It’s always the same shit. We sit back in the lounge and drink while girls tell us the same things over and over. I’m glad they love us. I’m glad they’ve been listening to us since they were thirteen, but I don’t give a shit. It only reminds me how old I am.

If she’s there, though, I’m going to thoroughly enjoy myself. I’m going to watch those brown eyes fill with pleasure while I make her lose her mind.

“You had Mitch bring the blonde back, huh?” Randy asks as he throws shit in his bag.

“Yup.”

The guys leave the room while I hang back to talk to Randy.

He chuckles. “You’re going to knock up one of these girls someday.”

I roll my eyes. “The fuck I am. I learned that lesson on our first world tour. I’ve been at this for twenty years and haven’t had that happen yet. No mini Elis or Eliettes running around here.”

“That you know of,” Randy retorts.

We could go back and forth, but the one thing is . . . I’m careful. There’s no freaking way I’m getting saddled with some kid from a groupie. I know better. Plus, Mitch is a scary prick. We’re his bread and butter. No way does he want some stupid shit taking away from his chance to make money. I know firsthand how easy he can make things disappear.

“Don’t worry about me.”

He stops putting things in the bag and gives me his serious look. “Like that’ll ever happen.”

Randy is two years older, and since our dad skipped out when we were kids and then died two years later, he thinks it’s his job to protect me.

“Seriously, Ran. Stop. Be my fucking brother for once.”

He huffs. “Fine. I think you need to grow up, Eli. You’re over forty, never married, no kids, not even a serious girlfriend since—”

“Don’t say her name.” I put my hand up. “I don’t want to even think about her tonight.”

Randy knows better. I don’t talk about her. At all.

“Fine, but Vannah is worried, too.”

“Savannah couldn’t care less about my love life. What you meant to say is Mom is worried. She’s probably chewing Vannah’s ear off about it, so she’s coming to you.”

My mother is the queen of meddling. She’s like a damn parakeet, “Eli needs a wife. Eli needs a wife.” I hear it all the damn time.

“No, it’s not Mom. It’s everyone. Stop the partying and random girls. Find someone who actually has a brain. You can’t tell me you’re satisfied with your life.”

“I can tell you I’m done listening to you.” I lean back and cross my arms.

Why do people think I need to be married to be happy? When did that become the definition of success and contentment?

Randy hoists his bag over his shoulder and smirks. I can practically read the thoughts in his mind. He thinks he has me. He has all the answers for why I need to live the life he thinks I should be living.

“And what about when things get tougher for you?”

And he just hit the only sore spot I have.

“Now I’m done.”

I flip him off and walk out. As soon as I enter the hallway, I hear the screams. I’m really not in the mood anymore, but I have to at least appear. I wave to the girls who couldn’t get in and head to the meet and greet where I hope she’s waiting.

There are days when this life is exhausting. I work my ass off and don’t get to enjoy it nearly as much as I thought I would. It’s all work all the time in my life. This business has a life expectancy, and I’m past it, which is why my focus has shifted to my show and movie projects. That is where I feel normal. I’m surrounded by people who don’t care who I was all those years ago. I’m an actor, a friend, a fucking human. When I’m on tour, it’s different.

Acting gives me way more freedom than the band ever did, too. I have more days off, no days on the bus, and a nice long break between filming. I don’t know how these other musicians constantly tour.

I turn the corner, and the music from the after party fills the air. The bass is loud, and the lights are dimmed, which means the girls are most definitely primed. My mind is set on one thing: convincing the blonde to spend the night with me. My mind has been consumed by her, and I move quickly, hoping she’s there.

I haven’t been this excited about a girl in a long time. There is no such thing as normal dating for performers. No woman wants to put up with the tabloids, groupies, and the fact that her man is never around. I sure as fuck wouldn’t.

“Eli,” a girl I don’t know croons. “There you are.”

She’s hot, but not the girl I’m searching for.

“I’ll find you later,” I brush her off.

I glance around the dark room, but I don’t see her. A few other girls approach me. I give them my customary smile while still scanning the faces for the one I’m looking for. She should be here. That’s the one good thing about our manager—he does his damn job.

Finally, a few people move, and I see her. She’s standing in the corner with her friend. Her long blonde hair is pulled to the side, showing off the skin on her shoulder, while she’s sipping a beer. I love a woman who drinks from a bottle. It’s sexy and down to earth. Shows me she isn’t all high maintenance and can hang with the boys.

I push my way through the crowd and beeline right toward her. “You made it,” I say, scaring her a little.

“Oh—” She clears her throat. “I-I . . . you said? I mean, you did tell me to, right?”

“Since you told me you love me, and I serenaded you, I figured we should meet officially.”

Her brown eyes widen as her bashful smile flashes. She’s even prettier than I remember. Her body curves in all the right places. Everywhere a man wants to lay his hands is carved to perfection. It’s clear she’s physically fit, and I’m ready to see what’s beneath those clothes.

“I’m Nicole.” Her friend extends her hand. She then gives me one of those looks that tells me she’s watching me. I see why the blonde brought her. Smart move.

“Eli.” I return the gesture with my most sincere smile.

“I’m Heather, by the way.”

“Heather,” I repeat, allowing her name to roll off my tongue. “Want another beer?” Her face turns red. “Did I say something?”

“No,” she says as her hand touches my arm. “I’m sorry. I’m just nervous.”

I like that I keep her slightly off kilter. Most of the girls that come back here are almost too sure of themselves. Like we should be so lucky to have chosen them. Then, it’s sexual promises and over the top offers. Ninety percent of the time, I never even go there. I guess after this long, I’ve become picky.

I blame my niece and nephew. I’m not saying I want to settle down, because that’s the last thing I need, but it would be nice to have someone to talk to once in a while. I’m surrounded by actresses most of the time, so I’ve had enough fake relationships.

“Don’t be nervous,” I try to reassure her.

Heather smiles and tucks her hair behind her ear. Is there anything this girl won’t do that I find attractive? I must be losing my mind. “It was a great show.”

“I’m glad you thought so.” And I am. I sang and danced my ass off. Whenever we come home, we give a little more. “I enjoyed a few parts more than others.”

“Me, too.” Her eyes brighten.

“Why don’t we go somewhere a little more private and talk? The after-show area is always crammed, and I won’t be able to avoid everyone.”

She looks at Nicole and then back at me. Nicole nudges her a little, and I decide that girl is my new best friend. Of course, I want to do a lot more than talk, but first, I want to get her away from all the noise.

I catch my manager’s attention and jerk my head in Nicole’s direction. He’ll make sure she stays occupied.

“I don’t know.”

“I promise, this place will become something neither of us want to be a part of.” I go for the truth, hoping she’ll catch my drift. “I just want to talk, if that’s what you want.” So, I lie a little.

Nicole smiles, whispers in her ear, and shoves her forward. I extend my hand, hoping that her friend helped me out a little. Heather looks down and then entwines our fingers.

Fuck this is going to be a good night.