She felt hollow as she watched him walk away. Every time she made an effort, it always ended like this. Tonight, he had seemed to make the effort, with the same result. What did she have to do to create peace?

Go home, her mind told her. Tell Heidi you can’t cut it, the boys are fine, but you can’t put up with his whiplash moods anymore. Heck, Heidi hadn’t been able to put up with him either, hence the divorce. Why did she expect Iris to fare any better? Surely she would understand.

But she’d made it this far. Two weeks down. Six to go.

Ugh.

She skipped the show that night. The boys had settled in with their friends, though she did walk over to make them take five minutes away and call their mother. After that, it was Netflix in her bunk, then sleep. She didn’t even know when Elijah came back, but the bus lurching from its parking space woke her hours later. Sighing, she flopped over and rearranged her covers, willing herself to drift off again.

She had almost done so when she heard a very feminine laugh.

Iris’s eyes blinked open, scarcely seeing the bare wall in front of her face. Had the sound even been real? Her mind, half in and half out of consciousness, could have been playing tricks on her. She listened intently as seconds ticked by, thinking surely she had imagined it. Her eyes closed.

There it was again, a low, throaty giggle. Iris sat up, propping herself on her elbow. Really? His kids spend one night off the bus and he brings a woman on? He’d probably been waiting for the opportunity, being an asshole to Iris hoping she would . . . what, leave? Go to a hotel? And now, for revenge, she had to listen to him have sex?

Well, she had earbuds at least. As the bus picked up speed, she also had road noise. Sighing, she let herself fall back onto her pillow. After the way Elijah had been angry at Quin and helped that girl get back home, she’d hoped he wouldn’t behave the same way. Obviously, she had been mistaken.

The woman’s muffled words turned into a soft moan. Iris hunted under her blanket for her phone and earbuds, though she wondered if she’d be able to hear music over the sudden, furious rushing in her ears, the painful throbbing of her heart. For no reason she cared to examine, her eyes stung.

He’d been nice to her earlier, and it had given her hope for a smooth ride the remainder of this tour. For the last two weeks, he’d been nothing but a doting dad to the boys. But now she supposed his true colors were coming out.

She’d been an idiot.

Iris shoved in one earbud and was fumbling with the other when the girl out front—it sounded as if they were in the front of the bus, closest to her, so he hadn’t even had the decency to go to his bedroom and shut the door—make a ridiculous squealing sound. Oh please, she’s totally faking. Not that Iris would know about those things, but if she in her limited experience was convinced, he should be too.

He didn’t make any sound at all.

She should march out there and tell them to cut it the hell out, people were trying to sleep in here. Whatever was going on, the girl was getting it good now, grunting and gasping like the women in the few minutes of porn Iris had endured before clicking away. She supposed that’s what these men liked to hear to feed their enormous rock star egos.

Even if, despite her outrage, her cheeks heated a little to hear those sounds. She lay there with only one earbud in, arguing with herself, admonishing herself to roll over and tune them out. It was none of her business what he did as long as his kids weren’t privy to it. He was rich and famous and had his needs.

She didn’t know why the thought of him with a woman wrapped around his gorgeous body squeezed her heart so painfully hard. Did she look like Heidi? Blonde and tall and voluptuous? Probably. Speaking of Heidi, did she really have to tell her boss about this?

Oh God.

He totally deserves it.

No, he doesn’t. It’s no one’s business but his.

He made it yours when he let you be an audience to it.

Damn him.

How was she ever supposed to find a man when she hated them all?

There was little sleep for her that night, even after the woman yelled that she was coming and then did, very loudly. After that, Iris didn’t hear a peep out of anyone, so they must have fallen asleep. Probably entwined together, an image that haunted her dreams during the few moments of sleep she was able to snatch here and there.

When the bus pulling to a halt jostled her fully awake again, she checked the time and saw that it was after eight. It was an off day, so maybe they had reached the hotel. Thank God. She could get off this cursed bus, get the boys, and get them safely to a room. Try to forget this had ever happened.

She wasn’t sure she could tell Heidi, no matter how angry she was. Heidi had been proven right while all these people were wrong. That was enough.

Fearing what she would find, Iris snatched her curtain open and stood from her bunk, squinting at what sunlight filtered through the blinds. No one was in the living area, and Elijah’s door was closed. Good.

She didn’t want to have to face whatever woman he’d been with last night after hearing what she sounded like when she had an orgasm. Gross.

––––––––

HE NEEDED FUCKING COFFEE stat.

Yawning, Eli rubbed a hand over his unruly hair and pulled himself from his bed, half stumbling to the door. He opened it to find Iris slinging shit around in the kitchen area. Hopefully she was making fucking coffee.

When she heard him coming up the hall, though, she looked at him like he was a piece of shit and turned her back. Okay. Whatever.

“Good morning to you too,” he grumbled. “Why don’t I get a rhyme?”

“What?” she snapped.

He stubbed his toe and cursed, lifting his foot to rub at the pain. “You see the kids and you always have a cute rhyme.”

She cast a look over her shoulder that could have slain him where he stood. Was she still that fucking pissed? Jesus. “Why in God’s name would I give you a rhyme?”

Eli noticed that she was, in fact, not making coffee. She was slicing fruit for her Greek yogurt. Her only demand had been that there be fresh fruit on the bus at all times. He tried to accommodate. “I need caffeine, drama queen,” he attempted, lame as it was. Hell, it was early.

“That one is stupid. I thought you were a songwriter.”

Shit, she didn’t have to say so. “All right. Move your ass, sassafras. I need coffee.” As he said it, he nudged her away from the area of the Keurig while she glowered at him.

“She worked you over, huh?” Iris muttered.

He paused reaching for his Italian roast, wondering if he’d heard her right. “What?”

“Nothing.” Grabbing her yogurt and a spoon, she whirled and departed, leaving him frowning after her.

The hell had that been about? Who had worked him over? It had been a tiring show, the heat and crazy-ass crowed sucking all his energy out, but . . .

“Aw, fuck.”

After the show, he’d invited Tripp the guitar tech and his girl, Lacie, to hang out for the ride, and when he’d gotten tired, he’d taken his old ass to his bedroom and let them have the front. If they’d decided to get busy, from her bunk Iris would have heard the entire fucking thing. Or the entire thing of fucking.

She’d thought it was him.

Oh, this was beautiful. He couldn’t have planned it any better. When Heidi called him a few hours from now chewing his ass out, he would know his initial instincts had been correct and she’d merely planted a spy in his midst. He could put Iris to the test without actually having to do anything underhanded. When that happened . . . Iris’s sweet ass was history on this tour.

But for some reason that idea didn’t give him the relief that it should.