Page 37 of Living on the Edge

I also feel like I owe him a bit of shit after the way he turned me down when I asked him for an interview last night.

“I’d need… it wouldn’t be fair unless I can talk to the rest of the guys about it too.”

He sighs. “That’s up to them.”

“Would you like me to try to set up a group interview? Would that maybe make it a neutral place for you guys to talk?” He looks so frustrated, I feel bad all over again.

“I think Tate and Mick are good. Sam is always practical. Jonny’s the one who…” His voice trails, as if he doesn’t want to say too much.

For some reason, I can’t resist reaching out and putting my hand on his forearm. “It’s going to be okay. The music says everything people need to know. They’ll forget about all this.”

His brows knit together and his eyes darken, as if I’ve pissed him off. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, Ryleigh.”

His eyes turn a gorgeous blue-green color when he’s mad.

It’s so freakin’ hot.

I may have to go out of my way to annoy him more often.

Stop it, Ryleigh!

I really hate when the sweet angel on my shoulder tells my red-haired devil to shut up.

“I’m just saying that the music is good—really good. Most people don’t care about anything else.”

“Most people isn’t all the people. And there are a lot of people who hate the Hollingsworth family. You’re too young and inexperienced to understand how ugly the world can be.”

Is that some sort of veiled insult?

“What are you trying to say?” I ask. “That I don’t know what I’m doing? You think I don’t see ugliness with my presence on social media? Or having to put up with self-absorbed misogynists in the music industry just so I can pay the bills?”

“You haven’t lived long enough to have a clue how much worse things could be for you. You’re barely out of college and on tour with a platinum-selling band—I don’t think you have too much to complain about. Other journalists would kill for an assignment like this. And we both know you only got it because of your dad.”

Jesus, do I really find this guy attractive?

Because he’s a grade-A asshole.

Now I’m the one who’s pissed off.

“I was trying to be supportive—you don’t have to be a condescending prick.”

“You gonna put that in your article?” His eyes flash.

“Go to hell.” I turn on my heel and stomp into the hotel.

How the hell am I going to do what I came here to do if my temper and my hormones both get the best of me?

And what is it about this guy that’s making me crazy?

“Big girl, panties,” I whisper to myself. “And health insurance.”

Maybe if I repeat that enough times it will somehow sink in.

Chapter11

Angus

As if mylife isn’t enough of a cluster-fuck, my father has called several times today. Eventually, I have to answer. At some point, I’ll have a lot to make up for. Not just professionally, but personally. I owe the people in my life—all of them. My band, my friends, my family, and my fans. I deserve privacy, but they deserve honesty.

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