CHAPTER 32

JARED

“Who says we’re never on time?” Matt asked jokingly, pushing through the doors of the VIP lounge we frequented when we flew.

Luxurious carpets sank beneath our feet as we followed him inside. Wide windows offered views of the runways on one side of the lounge while the others looked down into the bustling terminal below.

A permanent buffet spread lined one entire wall, infusing the lounge with smells that made my stomach growl. Travelers were seated at clumped-together loungers and couches, some furiously typing away on their laptops and others chatting quietly in groups.

We’d tried out several different lounges, restaurants, and other spots when we first broke out of the local scene as a band. Somehow, we kept ending up back at this one. Eventually, we stopped even trying the others and just came straight here when we got to the airport.

The food was good, the private bar was better, and the fact that the fans, when there were any in here, were generally chilled and respected us as fellow travelers was the clincher. Dom snapped a hair band from his wrist and pulled his long hair back, rolling his eyes at Matt.

“Gerry sent us a car.”

“But we were ready to get in it.” Matt shot back, grinning as he turned left toward the long bar that looked out over another runway. Our suitcases were already checked and since we were all light travelers, no one was lugging around extra bags.

Matt bowed when he got to the bar, catching the eyes of the bartenders and several other patrons already seated. “We’re here. You may all applaud now.”

Two young guys behind the bar exchanged a confused look and tentatively started clapping. Caleb’s hand went to Matt’s shoulder, and he jerked him upright, shaking his head at the bartenders. “He’s joking. No one needs to applaud anything.”

“Party pooper,” Matt muttered, resting his elbows on the gleaming bar counter as he leaned over and pointed at the fridge. “Five beers, please, kind sirs. And for the record, feel free to applaud anytime you want. Ignore Debbie Downer over here.”

“Every new day is a reason to celebrate,” Nick added cheerfully, sliding in next to Matt at the bar.

“Did they hit their heads on the way in here?” I asked Dom.

He shrugged and looked at one of the bartenders. “Don’t know what’s wrong with them, but he was being serious about those beers.”

The guy stared at him for a second, starstruck as his eyes darted from Dom to me to Nick, Matt, Caleb and back to me. His coworker nudged him finally, pointedly inclining his head to the fridge. “Oh. Sure. Yeah. I’m sorry, Mr. LeSalle.”

Dom snorted beside me, and Caleb’s shoulders shook as he laughed. “Do I look that old?”

“Yes,” I answered immediately. Dom was oldest out of all of us, not that being thirty technically made him old, but we never let him forget it.

He groaned and took the beer the wide-eyed bartender held out to him. “Why do I even ask?”

“You’re getting senile,” Matt offered, lifting his beer to his smirking lips and taking a long drink.

“It’s the dementia setting in,” Nick piped up. “You can’t remember what you looked like in the bathroom mirror this morning.”

“You’re assholes,” Dom declared, shaking his head as he turned and sank down in the nearest available couch.

“Now that’s an original insult right there.” I grabbed my beer, thanked the still starstruck bartender whose head was whipping between us like he was watching a tennis final and went to join Dom. “But don’t worry. We understand wit fades with old age.”

Caleb carried his beer over to us, and Matt and Nick started to turn away from the bar when the guy finally got up the nerve to ask what I thought we all knew was coming. “Excuse me, Mr. Masters, Mr. Tillman, I’m not supposed to do this, but would you mind signing my copy of your last album?”

No one was supposed to ask, but they all did. I was more amused by the guy calling them Mr. too. Looked like he hadn’t learned his lesson from his first slip.

Matt’s eyes widened in mock horror. “Only if you call me Matt from now on. Or Supreme Master of Bass.”

“Hold up,” Nick said, brow furrowing. “You bought the actual album? Like you didn’t just get on iTunes or whatever, and you actually have the album here with you?”

Both guys nodded enthusiastically. One dropped down, disappeared behind the counter for a minute and popped back up, producing the CD of our last album and holding it proudly between two fingers. “It’s always in my backpack.”

“Jesus.” Caleb pushed up from the couch and walked back over to the bar. “I honestly didn’t know people still bought this stuff.”

“I still buy this stuff,” I pointed out. “Vinyls too.”

“Don’t even get me started on you,” Caleb said, smirking at me over his shoulder.

Nick pulled a Sharpie from his pocket, always prepared, and grinned his infamous “Thank you for your support” grin. We all had one. “Only the two of us or everyone?”

“Everyone, if you don’t mind.” The guy’s voice was breathy, his eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas.

Nodding, Nick pulled out the sleeve and signed his name and then passed it and his Sharpie around to the rest of us. Once we’d all scribbled our names, he passed it back to the bartender. The guy stared down at it, blinking hard. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Matt said, finally coming over to where Dom and I were making ourselves comfortable. Our little display with the bartenders spurred a few more fans into action, coming up to us to talk or ask us to sign things.

None of them lingered too long, though. The fans in here really were chilled out. They didn’t swamp us, try to jump on us, yell at us, or crowd us in.

“I’m thirty,” a sultry voice said from behind me when the fans left, and it was just the band again. “Does that make me old?”

Turning my head toward the voice, my eyes landed on three girls who standing near where we’d been at the bar earlier. One of them, I assumed she was the one who’d spoken, lifted a manicured brow and made eye contact with each one of us before settling her gaze on mine. “Well?”

“Age is a matter of the mind,” I drawled, spitting out the first thing that came to mind. “I don’t mind, so it doesn’t matter.”

Dom punched me in the shoulder, rolling his eyes in exaggeration. “If I start wearing mini- skirts, do I get a free pass too?”

I wasn’t sure if what the woman was wearing could qualify as a skirt, even a mini one. A large belt, maybe. She pulled it off, though. Her toned legs looked about a mile long, her skin tanned and smooth.

Dark brown hair cascaded down her back, the shorter tendrils in front framing an elegant, statuesque face with forest green eyes surrounded by long, ink-black lashes. Forest green eyes that were firmly locked on mine.

She was gorgeous, but I wasn’t interested.

Her two friends flanked her, both redheads wearing only slightly more modest skirts. They looked like sisters, maybe even fraternal twins, and as I glanced around at the guys, I could practically see the word threesome jump into every mind but mine.

I elbowed Dom, drawing his attention back to me. “You’ll never get a free pass.”

“Mind if we join you?” The girl asked, clearly not about to be forgotten.

Nick swept his hand toward the open couches that rounded out the circle. “Have a seat.”

The redheads exchanged coy smiles, taking him up on his offer and carrying their fruity looking drinks to the free seats. The brunette had other ideas. She sashayed up to us, lowering her fine ass onto the arm of the couch I was in.

Damn it. Relationship or not, Alicia and Gerry were meeting us here, and this would look bad to her if she walked in to find this girl sitting a ball-hair’s breadth away from me. We were still on shaky ground, and I wasn’t losing her over another woman I didn’t even want.

A warm hand snaked onto my shoulder, fingers caressing the ends of my hair. Crap.

“Hey, Nick,” I called out, glancing around to see him sneaking a peek at her long legs. “Swap with me, would you? I wanna be able to keep an eye on the departure screen. Gerry will have a stroke if he got us here two hours early, and we still miss our flight.”

He shot me a look that said he knew I was grasping at straws but shrugged and did as I asked. The brunette didn’t waste time. Almost immediately, it was Nick’s black hair she was threading her fingers through.

Caleb, sitting beside me now, leaned over while Dom and Matt made conversation with the redheads. “I saw what you did there. Why didn’t you try anything with that girl? She was obviously down for it.”

“Not in the mood.” No way he believed that, but I all but forgot about him when I saw Alicia and Gerry sitting together at the table near the entrance of the lounge. They hadn’t come over to us, but she was seated facing our way, her laptop open in front of her.

“You? Not in the mood?” Caleb laughed. “I call bullshit. Big, steaming heaps of it. What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing. I told you. I just wasn’t feeling it.” Luckily, I was spared my brother giving me a hard time about it when an announcement came that our flight was ready to board. Another plus of this lounge, it was used by VIPs enough that if your charter knew you were here, they arranged for calls to be made directly here.

A private charter plane was loaded and ready for us, richly carpeted with recliner-sized seats and a fully stocked bar. No matter how many times we flew private, I still wasn’t used to it.

Neither were any of the other guys, if their exclamations and running around the cabin was any indication. Gerry got everyone in their seats in record time, and I was surprised when Alicia sank down in the one next to mine.

We were seated toward the back of the smallish plane, only the two of us in our row. Her floral scent permeated the air around me, my awareness of her skyrocketing. She buckled in with a small smile playing on her delicious lips.

“I saw you with that fan back there,” she remarked. The plane started taxiing down the runway, the loud humming of the engines giving us complete privacy from Caleb and Dom sitting in the seats in front of us.

“You pissed?”

She didn’t look it, but if I’d walked into the lounge to find another man caressing her back and hair, I wouldn’t have been happy. We’d agreed to exclusivity. Far as I was concerned, that extended to any intimate physical touch from other people.

Alicia shook her head, her loose golden waves bouncing slightly. “What I should’ve said was that I saw you turn down that fan back there.”

I lifted my shoulder in shrug and repeated the lie I told Caleb. “I wasn’t in the mood. Plus, I’m kind of only sleeping with one girl right now. Wasn’t that one.”

Lips kicking up into a private, naughty looking smile that instantly got my pulse racing, she brought her hand to my thigh and started stroking along it. “Not in the mood, huh? That’s a pity. I was wondering if maybe you wanted that one girl you are sleeping with to take care of what you missed out with the fan.”

“I could be convinced. Besides, I’m not going to turn down an invitation to join the mile-high club, if that’s what you’re offering?”