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Until now.
And if she didn’t get her little ass into gear and out onto the stage, then he was going to be seriously unimpressed.
Running his hand through his dark hair, he let out a sigh of frustration.
Where. The. Fuck. Was. She?
Now he was starting to get worried. What if something had happened to her? What if she was hurt?
Had someone gotten to her?
Sure, there was security, but that didn’t mean that she was entirely safe. There were plenty of assholes out there.
His phone buzzed. There were plenty of people searching for her.
No one could find her.
Frustration bit at him as he came to a supply closet. There was no reason for her to be in here, but he’d looked everywhere else.
Opening the door, his nose wrinkled at the smell of bleach.
He ran his gaze over the shelves of cleaning supplies. Then turned to leave.
But his brain screamed at him to stop and look closer.
Spinning back, he looked again.
Fuck. He’d nearly missed her. All that was visible were her cowboy boots. She loved those boots. He’d never seen her perform without them on.
A whimper filled the room.
His breath stilled in his lungs. Fuck. That noise.
It was like a punch to the gut. He didn’t know when he’d stopped being wary and annoyed by her and began to feel protective.
He wanted to wrap her up tight in his arms.
Keep her safe.
Make sure that she was fed and healthy and happy.
But he couldn’t do any of that. Because a relationship with another musician on tour was a bad fucking idea. If things went downhill… yeah, it could be uncomfortable for everyone.
It wasn’t something he was willing to risk.
However, it was damn hard to keep his hands off her.
Shutting the door, he turned on the light.
Another cry. “No light.”
Fuck. Did she have a migraine or something? His mom suffered from bad migraines, and any sort of light made them worse.
And now he felt like a complete dick because he hadn’t considered that she might be ill.
What was wrong with him?
He quickly turned the light off again and ran his hand over his face with a sigh.
