As soon as I give my name, the bouncer at the most popular, and hardest to get into, club in Los Angeles unclips the velvet rope and steps aside so that Lana and I can enter. “Down the hall to the right,” he barks. “Your people are in the VIP lounge.”
My people. I smile when he says it. I really feel like I am part of the Renegade crew these days. Tonight is yet another sign that I’m with the band. The line to get in is unbelievably long, so there’s no way I would ever have even attempted to get into this place otherwise. As we walk in and I see the setup, I have to admit it’s really cool. The music is bumping and the place is packed with people dancing.
Two huge men in suits are standing side by side in front of what is clearly the VIP area. I know this because I recognize that one of the men is Morris, the security guard I met on the first day of work. He inclines his head once when he sees me before stepping to the side so Lana and I can get past. There are neon-accented see through steps leading up to the VIP area, which makes me giggle. It makes me think the place is half awesome club, half really cheesy porno set.
The second I get to the top step, I see Cole. He’s standing with Gavin and two men I don’t recognize, but as soon as he sees me, he excuses himself and comes my way. His eyes are trained on me like laser beams, and his gaze sweeps over me from head to toe, twice. When he looks back at me, I see the heat in his eyes. He definitely likes what he sees.
I try not to preen, but I’m definitely proud of how I’m looking tonight. My hair took me over an hour to get just so—sexy bedhead style doesn’t come easy—and I’ve got on a short halter style black mini dress and sky-high red heels. Lana calls them my bend-me-over-and-fuck-me-like-I’ve-been-a-bad-bad-girl shoes.
He stops when he reaches me, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me in before dropping a kiss on my cheek. Having him against me causes warmth to spread through me as I’m pressed against his chest. Even with our clothes between us, I feel the spark.
“You’re stunning,” he says against my ear.
I beam at him like a fool as he steps back and looks down at me.
“You too,” I blurt.
Don’t laugh. He really does. He’s dressed all in black from head to toe—jeans, shirt and a leather jacket, and it works on every level. He gives me a sexy grin that makes my heartbeat quadruple. This man and his smiles are going to melt me—and my underwear—into a puddle at some point.
When he turns to Lana and says hello, I feel myself blushing. I forgot she was here. No man has ever made me forget my surroundings, ever.
Gesturing to the bar, he says, “What are you two drinking? I’ll order for you.”
Lana shakes her head and laughs as she gestures over her shoulder. “I’m going out into the wild, Mr. Rockstar. There isn’t even one sort-of lesbian in this VIP section.”
Cole’s eyebrows shoot up as he looks over his shoulder and then back at Lana. “There are like forty people up here,” he says. “There’s no way your gaydar could have worked through them all that fast.”
She chuckles as she taps her head. “This thing never fails me,” she says smugly. “I did, however, spot a bunch of good prospects out on the dance floor as we walked past. Take care of my bestie while I go find someone to dance with tonight.”
I give her a dry look as she turns back to me. My best friend is a maniac. Stepping in, she gives me a kiss on the cheek. “See you on the dance floor, babydoll.”
I roll my eyes as I nod and kiss her back. “Don’t forget, you’re my ride home,” I remind her.
She shakes her head and laughs before leaning closer. “I would never! I’m just dancing tonight,” she assures me. “I’m not going home with anyone but you.”
After Lana wanders away, Cole places his hand on my lower back and guides me toward the bar. “What’s your poison?”
“Whiskey sour,” I answer.
While Cole places the order, I turn and survey the room. I smile when I spot Lacey standing with her boyfriend. He’s got her plastered against him, her back to his front, with an arm wrapped around her possessively. They’re a cute couple, and I see why she gets a special smile on her face when she talks about him. It’s obvious they’re in love. She grins when she sees me, and I wave at her cheerfully.
“Here you go,” Cole says as he hands me my drink.
“It’s perfect,” I say after taking a sip. “There’s nothing worse than when there’s too much sour mix or too much whiskey.”
The way he watches my mouth as I lick my lips makes me blush.
“Come,” he says as he puts a hand at my back. “Let’s mingle.”
We spend the next half hour or so moving around the room and talking to different people. Right now we’re sitting at a table, chatting with Lacey and her boyfriend Ben. Both whiskey sours I drank went down smooth and I’m having a great time. Cole’s arm is slung over the back of my chair and I’m feeling pretty good about being so close to him, especially since we’re about to head to the dance floor. Over Cole’s shoulder, I see Ian step up into the VIP area. Smiling, I wave him over. He nods and heads our way.
“Hey,” he says as he drops down next to Cole at the last free seat at the table. “How’s it going tonight?”
“Pretty good. This place is really nice. We’re going down to dance,” I say as I gesture around the table. “You should come!”
Ian’s eyes dart right to Cole. They exchange a look before Ian nods.
“Sure,” Ian says. “I’ll go grab a drink, make the rounds and then I’ll meet you guys on the dance floor.”
We all stand and depart the table at the same time. Ian goes toward the bar while the four of us make our way to the dance floor. Cole stays at my side, as he has all night, keeping his hand on my back.
Dancing with him is far more arousing than I’d have thought. He keeps the beat—that isn’t a surprise, all things considered—but also has great moves. I note that some people around us are noticing who Cole is, but he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it.
We throw ourselves into dancing, only taking a break for Lacey and I each to grab another drink and do some fruity-flavored shot. Since Cole and Ben are both driving, they didn’t drink with us. I’m as loose as I’ve been in forever, and feeling great. Lana’s been dancing with us on and off, but mostly she’s been dancing with her girl of the night. I don’t even pay attention to the girl, since it’s not like I’ll be seeing her again.
When Ian finally makes his way onto the dance floor, I clap excitedly. I’d pretty much written him off, assuming he was just going to avoid us. He’s a little uptight sometimes. Lacey and I both grab one of his arms, pulling him into the area we’re dancing in. I’ve been dancing so long that I’m a sweaty mess, but I don’t even care. Having this much fun is worth the sweat. Plus, I won’t have to go to the gym tomorrow.
We dance and dance, and with each song that passes—not to mention the two drinks I’ve seen him consume—I notice Ian having more and more fun. It makes me smile because even though he’s cool, he’s more reserved than anyone else in the group.
Whether it’s due to the consumption of alcohol or just proximity to us, the next thing I know Ian is dancing with Cole and me. Cole is at my back, Ian my front, and there’s definitely something super sexual about the whole thing.
Beyoncé is singing about being crazy in love and I’m sandwiched between two beautiful men. It isn’t a bad thing. I let it all hang out, booty popping back against Cole. His hands are on my hips and Ian’s eyes are looking between Cole and me as we all move together.
“Crazy in Love” gives way to Britney Spears singing “Hold it Against Me,” and we keep right on dancing. I’m blatantly grinding my ass against Cole now, and I can feel how hard he is. I’m surprised when Ian steps in as close to me as he can and puts a hand on my shoulder. I stop dancing when his head starts descending toward mine. Holy shit. This is happening.
My eyes don’t close as his lips cover mine. I don’t know if it’s because I’m so startled or what. I don’t get to think about it because the next thing I know Cole has jerked me back and away from Ian.
“Sorry,” he yells over the music, “we’ve got an audience.”
My hands fly up to my flaming hot cheeks as I nod. Looking around I make eye contact with Lacey and laugh when she wiggles her eyes suggestively. I also see Lana, and she gives me a look that says she saw the whole thing. Other than them, I don’t see anyone else, but I guess when Cole pulled me back, people looked the other way.
“I have to go,” Ian yells back. “See you later.”
I reach out and stop him. Standing on my tiptoes, I get close to his ear. “You can’t drive. You’ve been drinking.”
He shakes his head emphatically. “I came in a cab and I’ll leave in one, too. I’m cool, don’t even worry about it.”
Something seems off. He looks almost desperate to get away.
“Are you sure?”
He reaches out and squeezes my shoulder gently. “I’m good, Dev. No worries.”
I nod and watch as he shakes Cole’s hand and then wanders off. I’m not worried like I think he’s going to do anything crazy, but more and more his level of discomfort is causing me to wonder what his story is. Ian is a question machine—of course he would have to be, given his career choice—but he never talks about himself.
Cole looks me over as he turns back my way. “Thirsty?” he asks.
I nod. “I’d kill for about three gallons of water and an industrial air conditioner right now,” I laugh.
The moment on the dance floor seems to be well and truly over. I wonder if the opportunity will ever present itself again.
I also wonder if I want it to. It was fun dancing with them, but when Ian started to kiss me, I didn’t feel anything. No butterflies, no sense of excitement, nothing.
Cole and I are each seated in easy chairs in his den with about three tiny feet separating us. The sexual tension between us is palpable. Every day I’ve expected the attraction to wane at least nominally, but it hasn’t. Instead, it’s gotten stronger.
After taking a sip of water, I say, “I’m going to start by asking you some questions to get you comfortable. These are quick—think of it as a speed round with a quick finish,” I laugh. “You ready?”
He grins and leans forward.
“I’m usually not much for speed and a quick finish,” he drawls, “but if that’s what you want, I’ll give it to you. Whatever it takes to get the job done. Hit me.”
Anddd now I’m thinking about him in bed. Again. For the record, my nightly sessions with my Lelo are doing nothing to get myself under control. If anything, I’m more keyed up sexually than ever.
Licking my lower lip, I shake my head to clear it and get busy leafing through my notebook. When I look up, I find him smiling as he watches me fidget. Letting out a chuckle, I go back to the page I was originally on. With a quick roll of my shoulders, I get myself into the zone.
“All right,” I murmur. “Here goes. What’s your favorite food?”
“Brownies,” he says without hesitation. “My Gram’s brownies are my favorite food in the world.”
“Swimming pool or ocean?”
He rubs at his chin for a second before nodding. “Tough, but I think swimming pool. I hate not being able to see what’s going on beneath the surface in the ocean.”
I nod my agreement. Lana’s had me convinced since we were kids that any time we go into the ocean, Jaws is waiting to take a bite.
“Favorite store?”
He throws his head back and laughs. “I wish it were something shocking, but it’s Guitar Center. I guess I’m boring and predictable.”
“Hardly,” I counter. “You just know what you like.”
“Yes,” he says huskily. “I do.”
I fight the urge to cross my arms over my chest to conceal my now pebbled nipples. His sexy as all hell grin and his cologne are all making me crazy.
Refusing to be led off course, I continue.
“You have to cook dinner for twenty people. What do you make?”
He pauses as if I’ve thrown him with the question.
“Um—toast,” he answers after a few seconds. “I’m not good in the kitchen, or with the grill. But I can order out like no one’s business,” he asserts.
“Typical bachelor,” I chide.
“Guilty as charged,” he agrees. “I’m open to change, though.”
I swallow nervously and try to avoid focusing too much on what he just said. I need to stay in the professional zone right now.
“How many guitars do you have?”
His brow furrows as he considers the question.
“I take twenty on the road, but use about five of them regularly. In my home studio, I’ve got another ten or so. There are a bunch in my garage.” He pauses for a second as he counts, his lips moving silently as he does.
“Shit,” he laughs. “I think there are probably close to a hundred in there. I swear I’m not a hoarder. A lot of them were gifts.”
“I’m not surprised,” I answer. “Occupational hazard and all that. Do you have a favorite guitar?”
A somber look passes over his face before he quickly settles into a neutral expression.
“I do,” he answers. “My first acoustic.”
It’s the lightning round and I could move on, but I’m curious about his reaction to the question.
“Why is that not a happy thing?”
Leaning his head back, he lets out a long breath.
“Because it was the last gift I ever got from Flynn’s mom,” he shares. “That makes it priceless.”
“I’m sorry,” I murmur hastily. “I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t apologize,” he says firmly. “I signed on to answer any and all questions, and I will. I got thrown off for a second because I was thinking about the day she died earlier, so it’s a little close to the surface. When I found out she was gone, I was playing that guitar, practicing a song for her.”
It’s beyond obvious that he loved her almost as much as Flynn.
“Ian showed me some of the photos your parents and Todd provided for the autobiography,” I tell him. “It looks like your family and the Rand family are essentially one and the same.”
The sadness on his face fades immediately as he smiles. “It is,” he agrees. “Gavin and Ty got integrated into the family,” he informs me. “Gavin’s sister has always felt like she’s our little sister, too. My parents adore her. Sometimes I think they spoil her more than they spoil me.”
His answer is great—except there’s one thing missing.
“I notice you don’t mention Tyson’s family,” I comment. “None of you do.”
Cole’s facial expression changes instantly. Instead of being open, now he looks cautious.
“Tyson needs to reveal his history himself. To be perfectly honest, the primary reason three out of four of us were reluctant to do any of this—the book, this documentary—is Tyson,” he explains. “He was the one who wanted to do it, though. If it weren’t for him being so adamant about going forward, this never would have happened. I’m proud of him for wanting to put himself out there—especially for the reason he’s doing it —but he needs to take the first step himself. Once he does, I’ll be glad to answer any questions you have about him. Just not until then, okay?”
I nod my understanding as I quickly jot Tyson/mystery in my notebook.
“I’m sorry—”
“Not a problem,” I assure him. “I’m with you for the better part of the next year. I’m good with holding off.”
He grins wolfishly. “At least that long,” he counters. “Hopefully more. You never know.”
I know I’m blushing as I glance down at the monitor between my feet to check the shots. I’ve got three cameras set up at three different angles, and so far, they’re all good. There’s nothing worse than realizing mid-interview that you framed something wrong. Turning the page in my notebook, I continue.
“Flynn talked a lot about being able to live a more authentic life after retirement. Can you give me an example of something that will change?”
His hand runs over his beard thoughtfully as he considers the question.
“The biggest difference is going to be not going on tour for so many months each year. Even when I’m at home, I never get to fully settle in because I’m always on the cusp of leaving again.” He chuckles. “Once this tour is over, I’ll be stationary for the first time in my adult life. I think all kinds of things are going to change for me—for all of us.”
“Essentially, you’re saying you’ll be able to put down more roots,” I comment.
His blue eyes sparkle as he smiles at me.
“I’ve got my family and the band. Most of my other friends are somehow connected to the business. Been living in my house for a long time,” he answers, “but I couldn’t pick out my closest neighbors in a line up. I can tell you the quickest way to get to Guitar Center from here, yet I have no idea when the yearly block party is held. I’m aware there is one because my maid goes, but somehow, I’ve never been in town for it. It’d be nice to know who lives around me.”
“So roots are important to you,” I muse.
He nods firmly. “Everyone knows Flynn and I lived next door to each other when we were kids. Those were the days. We knew everyone in that neighborhood and everyone knew us. Even now, anytime I go to my parents or Flynn’s dad’s, I’m home. My house doesn’t fit that bill. I feel like a guest around here,” he admits.
“I still miss the area I grew up in,” I commiserate. “My parents sold the house as soon as I went to college.”
“Downsizing?”
“No—they’re part of Doctors Without Borders,” I explain. “They do great work.”
They really do, but it’s a tough nut to swallow sometimes.
“That’s really cool. Where are they?”
“This year they’re in Uzbekistan fighting a TB epidemic.”
“Wow—your parents are the real deal,” he says. “Will they be around when the documentary comes out?”
I shrug because I don’t really like to think about it too much. The odds of them being there are slim to none. I love my parents—they’re wonderful people—but it saddens me that they just sold everything and left. Yes, it’s for a great cause, but it doesn’t mean I don’t miss having parents around. I see them once a year now, if I’m lucky. Anxious to get the focus off of me, I plow on with another question.
“Why not buy a house in the neighborhood you grew up in?”
“It would be ideal for me, but not for everyone else there. There’s already a lot of looky-loo’s because Flynn and I grew up there, and our parents never left. But if either of us lived there all the time, it would be open season. I couldn’t do that to my family, or my old neighbors.”
I nod my understanding. He’s right, it would be a nightmare for everyone in the neighborhood.
“Getting to know your neighbors will be easier in the gated community,” I agree.
“What do you think of it?” he asks.
I raise my eyebrows in confusion. “Of what?”
“The neighborhood,” he says huskily. “Do you like it?”
“I, it’s… yes,” I sputter. “It’s a great neighborhood.”
He’s staring at me so intently it’s making my pulse race. With my mouth now desert dry, I reach for my water. As the cup tips, I let out a shriek and dive forward to grab my monitor. Realizing it’s covered in water, I frantically start wiping at it with the first thing I can grab.
Cole springs into action and runs out of the room in a flash. He returns seconds later with a kitchen towel and a roll of paper towels. Dropping onto the floor in front of me. Taking the monitor from my hands, he meticulously dries it.
First he uses the towel and then he wipes it down with some paper towels. When he’s satisfied that it’s dry, he turns it to me.
“See,” he says calmly. “Good as new. It’s still working with the cameras.”
My brain is apparently completely out to lunch, because the next thing I know, I’m lurching forward in my seat to hug him.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I know it probably seems silly to you but this particular monitor isn’t made anymore and I love it. My parents remembered to coordinate with Lana to get it for me in time for my twenty-fifth birthday last year. They were in Nepal,” I babble.
He’s dead still for a second, but then he wraps his arms around me and pulls me in close. He’s right between my legs, and I shiver when I feel the cotton of his T-shirt against my inner thighs. I gasp as the implication of why I can feel him hits me.
“Oh my God,” I sputter as I pull back. “Holy shit!”
Cole quickly pulls back and looks up at me with concern.
“What’s wrong?”
When I went to dry the monitor, the thing I grabbed to do it was the hem of my white cotton dress—the hem of which had rested about an inch above my knee. I’m now sitting here with it bunched up around my thighs. I try not to look down, but can’t help it. As quick as I bring my eyes back to his, it’s too late. His gaze follows the path mine just did, and he lets out a choked noise when he realizes the state I’m in.
“Jesus, Devon,” he growls. “Fuck.”
Lifting his head, he meets my eyes. My breath stops, lodging somewhere in my chest when I see the look of hunger in his eyes. The breath rushes out of me in a whoosh when he leans back and runs his hands up the inside of my thighs.
“You’re so soft,” he murmurs. “So beautiful.”
I expel the breath I’ve been holding in a rush. Seemingly of their own volition, my legs spread wider, allowing him to come in closer.
“Cole,” I whimper.
A shocked sound makes us both jump. My head whips around fast, and I let out a squeak when I spot Ian standing in the doorway with a deer-in-the-headlights look.
“I, uh, sorry,” he stutters. “Your assistant let me in as he was leaving for the day…I didn’t… Fuck.”
Cole grabs the hem of my skirt and carefully pulls it down as he studies my face.
“You okay?”
I nod. “I’m good,” I assure him.
I wouldn’t be if it were anyone other than Ian. There’s no way I could keep from noticing the way Ian is looking between Cole and me right now. Since the day I met them both, I’ve seen it from both of them but right now the look on Ian’s face is one hundred percent arousal. Without question, he wants us both. The idea of the two of them touching me has become my favorite dirty fantasy.
Cole stands in one fluid motion, turning to Ian.
“Don’t be sorry,” he tells him. “Everything is cool. How about we take a break now and eat dinner?”
My stomach growls as if on cue.
“I’m starving,” I admit.
“It’s settled then,” Cole announces. “I’ll go pull dinner out of the warming oven.”
He gives me a meaningful look, and I think I know just what it means. I nod once in understanding, and he smiles before spinning on his heel and leaving the room.
I’m pretty sure Cole wants me to ease Ian’s embarrassment, so I set out to do so. Crossing the room, I stop in front of Ian and smile up at him.
“Hey you.”
The smile he gives me seems uncertain.
“I’m sorry—”
“Like Cole said, you have nothing to be sorry for,” I assure him. “Don’t give it another thought.”
He shakes his head as he stares down at me. “You do realize he’s bisexual, yeah?”
He says the word bisexual dramatically, air quotes and all.
I find myself oddly defensive. For whatever reason, I really don’t want to discuss this with Ian. It feels wrong somehow.
After a second of trying to formulate a response, I finally say, “I’m not surprised, which says a lot.”
“Doesn’t that,“ he pauses to swallow, “bother you?”
I cross my arms over my chest defensively as I stare at him.
“Why would it bother me?”
“Bisexual means he fucks around with men,” he says stiffly, as if I’m somehow unaware of the definition.
“It also means he likes women too,” I remind him.
“Don’t you think that makes him gay?”
I bark out a harsh laugh. “But he’s also been with women. By your logic, that makes him straight.”
“Come on, Devon. Don’t ignore the obvious,” he urges. “If you fuck around with someone who’s the same gender you are, you’re gay.”
I can’t keep the annoyed expression from my face as I glare up at him. I really don’t see why this matters. Bisexual, yes. Gay? No. If Cole were gay, he wouldn’t have touched me the way he just did.
“I’ve kissed girls and I’m not gay, Ian,” I huff.
“I’m not judging,” he argues. “I have no problem with gay people.”
“Actions speak louder than words and you getting all huffy about Cole being bisexual—”
“You know why it bothers me,” he asserts.
“Do I?”
He scrubs his hands through his hair roughly as he stares at me. “You feel this…this fucking thing between the three of us,” he insists. “You have to know what he wants this to turn into.”
I lick my lower lip as I nod. “I do. Are you asking me if I object? Because if you are, all I can tell you is, I’ve definitely thought about it,” I admit.
His eyes shoot up toward his hairline as he gapes down at me. My admission doesn’t seem to have pleased him.
“How can you stand it?” he asks. “The idea of being in bed with two guys willing to touch each other…it can’t be a turn on. It’s gay, full stop.”
The look I give him is glacial. “You’re awfully quick to throw labels and judgments around. I’m disappointed in you. I had no idea you were so intolerant.”
“I’m not intolerant—”
“Then stop acting like it,” I snap.
His shoulders sag as he looks away. “I’m sorry I’m being such an asshole. Please,” he says pleadingly, “I really fucked up and clearly I’m handling this terribly. I’m just…confused. I really am sorry, Devon. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”
I believe him, especially the confused part. Ian clearly has some issues that need to be addressed, but if I’ve learned one thing in my life it’s that slow and steady is the way to go. I’m not going to go at him all bull in the China shop style.
“Let me turn off my equipment so we can move on,” I say as I gesture toward the door, “and go get some food.”
He fidgets nervously as he stares down at me. “Are we good?”
I nod and tell him what he wants to hear. “We’re good.”
As friends I think we are. As for anything else, all signs point to no. He definitely does not seem to be interested in anything else—at least not with Cole and me together.