Taming the Storm

I’m surprised Rally didn’t try to put the kibosh on Vintage performing here at the same time as one of his bands.

Or maybe he did, and I just don’t know about it.

Robbi pushes a hand into his blond hair and gives me a cocky grin. “A fan.”

“Maybe.” I shrug, biting my lip.

Butterflies have taken flight in my stomach. What’s that all about?

Robbi’s eyes move down to my empty hands. “You don’t have a drink. I can’t have a beautiful fan of ours watching the show without a drink. Let me buy you one?”

I don’t get a chance to answer.

A guy with greasy long hair taps Robbi on the shoulder. “You’re needed backstage. Seth and Dougie are going at it again.”

Seth and Dougie are his band members. It’s well known that members of The Turnstiles have a volatile relationship.

I couldn’t imagine what that would be like, fighting with your band members all the time. I would hate it.

I’m lucky to have Cale, Sonny, and Van.

Robbi heaves out a sigh. “I’m coming,” he says to greasy-hair guy. Robbi looks back to me. “I’m sorry. Gotta go – band stuff.”

“It’s okay.” I offer him a smile. “Hope you get it sorted before you go onstage. I’d hate to miss out on hearing you play live tonight.”

“Don’t worry. I’m a pro at sorting those two out.” He starts to leave but then turns back. “You never answered my question about whether you wanted that drink or not?”

Holding out my empty hands, I smile softly. “Guess you’ll never know.”

Putting his hand in his pocket, he pulls something out and takes a step toward me. “You ever feel like giving me the answer, call me.” He presses a card into my hand. With a charming smile, he’s gone, disappearing into the crowd.

I’m left with those damn butterflies and a tingly warm feeling in my chest.

I don’t even get a chance to move when I hear Tom’s voice in my ear. “So, are you gonna call him?”

The scent of him washes over me, and my earlier pep talk flies out the window.

“Seriously”—I round on him—“what is it with you tonight? Questioning if I’m sleeping with Cale and the rest of the male population. And now, Robbi?”

Tom studies my face for a moment. I can feel my body heating under his gaze.

He gives a wry smile. “I never asked if you were sleeping with Robbi. I asked if you were going to call him.”

“Whatever,” I bite out, my hands going to my hips. “Why the sudden interest in my love life?”

“Maybe I just care about your well-being.”

I scoff at that notion.

His eyes narrow. “I’m just looking out for you. Robbi Kraft is a player.”

“So are you!” I throw my hands up.

He leans into my face. His dark gaze penetrates me, and his heat is all over me, licking at my skin. He’s confusing the hell out of me. And I don’t like it one bit.

“That might be,” he says, his voice rugged and low. “But I’m not trying to get into your panties.”

I step back, shaking my cluttered mind. “Not anymore you’re aren’t, but you were not so long ago.”

Then, it hits me, and I wonder if that’s part of the problem.

Did I actually like it when Tom was hitting on me before? Does it bother me now that he’s not?

Suddenly, I feel like crying. My throat thickens, and my eyes water. My emotions are all over the place, and it’s because of him. I pin my eyes to the floor, trying to regain control of my feelings.

Seeming to sense my rising emotions, he steps back, giving me space. In a kinder voice, he says, “I’m just looking out for you. Right now, on this tour, you’re my responsibility. As your manager, I’m telling you, a girl like you does not want to call a guy like him.”

My eyes snap to his. “A girl like me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He runs his hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. He looks like he’s struggling for words. “You’re a good girl. Robbi’s a bad guy. You’re moving up, and he would drag you right back down. I know girls like you, Firecracker. And I know even more about guys like Robbi. He’s not somewhere you want to go.”

“You don’t know me,” I scoff.

He does know me, more than I care to admit. And that’s because I can’t seem to stop spilling my sad guts to him.

His eyes darken. “Yeah, I do.”

I feel off balance. So, I do what I do best. I react to feelings I can’t control.

I let out a hollow laugh. “You keep telling yourself that.” I crumble up Robbi’s card in my hand and toss it at Tom’s chest. “You don’t know shit about me. If you did, you would know that I had no intention of calling Robbi. I’m off men. Being screwed over by one will do that.”

I turn to leave, but Tom pulls me back to him. With one hand on my arm, his other cups the side of my face.

“Who screwed you over?”

The concern on Tom’s face sends my insides reeling. It’s all too much to take at once.

I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Sure seems like it matters. And I need to know whose ass I have to kick.”

My eyes meet his. “Wouldn’t that be considered fighting over a woman? Not something I thought you’d be down for.”

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