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“Stop!” I throw my mic on the floor. “This isn’t working.”
“No shit,” Dylan grumbles.
I throw him a glare before addressing the rest of the band, “Anyone else want to complain about my lyrics?”
Fender, Gibson, and Jett hold up their hands. They know better than to mess with me when I’m in a ‘mood’ as they say.
“Why don’t you go for a walk?” Dylan suggests.
A walk? I don’t want to go for a fucking walk. I want to nail these lyrics. What the hell was I thinking writing a song about the girl I lost? Now I can’t get pictures of Indigo out of my mind. Inconvenient since I’m currently sharing a house with the woman.
But not a bed. Which is what I really what to share with her. Hot sweaty nights, our naked bodies entwined, as I sink intoher. My cock perks up at the idea. I tell him to settle down. My band mates would tease me until we’re too old to get hard-ons if I got hard in front of them.
“I have the number for the woman I nailed last night. Let me send it to you.” Jett digs out his phone before I can stop him.
What is he thinking? He knows I don’t share women. And, despite the rumors, I don’t pick up a new woman every night after a concert.
Have I fucked fans of the band? Of course, I have. I’m not a saint. But I stay away from women who remind me of Indigo. I stick to lanky blondes.
Not women with curves I enjoy digging my fingers into as I— I shove those thoughts away and rub a hand down my face. “A walk sounds nice.”
“Nice?” Dylan chuckles. “Since when do you use the word nice?”
I ignore him. He enjoys pushing my buttons. Usually, I push back. But if I push back now, he’ll figure out why I’m in a mood. I’m not ready for the band to discover Indigo’s in town. I want her all for myself for a while.
I stand from the stool I’ve been sitting on for hours and stretch my back. “Anyone want to join me?”
Fender, Gibson, and Jett glance away. I guess I’ve been more than a bit of an asshole today. I should probably apologize. Ask me if I’m going to.
Dylan sighs as he stands. “I’ll go with you. Don’t want you getting into a fistfight with the locals.”
I scowl. “One time. One time I got into a fight. And it wasn’t my fault.”
“Your fist just happened to ram itself into the reporter’s face?”
“He claimed I’m a womanizer.”
I know I sound crazy, but I can’t stand it when anyone accuses me of being a man whore. Yes, I have issues. But who doesn’t?
“We’ll pack up,” Gibson volunteers as Dylan and I make our way out of the recording booth.
“Thanks.” There. I’m not a complete asshole. I thanked my band for doing their jobs. I deserve a pat on the back.
We step outside and I shiver. I may run hot, but Colorado is freezing compared to our last tour stops in Florida and Texas.
I’m also underdressed in a long-sleeved t-shirt, but there’s no way I’m wearing a bulky jacket and missing the chance to watch Indigo’s eyes flame as her gaze roves over my chest.
“You want to grab a beer?”
I stuff my hands in my pockets and turn away fromNaked Falls Brewing.I do not want to grab a beer at the brewery. Not considering who owns the place.
“Nope.”
“You need to speak to Stan. He promised us time off after the tour finished. Instead, we’re in the recording studio working on our next album. We need a break.”
I ignore Dylan. I can hardly admit I’m the reason we’re in Winter Falls working on our album. I didn’t know Indigo would be here, but there are other people here. People I’ve been working up my courage to meet for years.
“I’m serious, Cash. Gibson and Jett need a break before they end up causing trouble.”
