Page 52 of Duty Unbound

“To dinner. Or whatever you want to call it.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture I’d come to recognize as a sign of nervousness. “When things calm down.”

Something warm unfurled in my chest. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I’m counting on it.”

My earpiece crackled to life, Jace’s voice cutting through the moment. “Ethan, we’ve got a situation at the north entrance. Need you to check it out.”

I pressed my finger to the comms unit. “Details?”

“Guy trying to get backstage, says he’s friends with one of the dancers. Security has him detained, but he’s making a scene. Claims he knows Nova personally.”

I sighed. “On my way.” I turned back to Mel. “Duty calls.”

She nodded, understanding in her eyes. “Go. I’ll be here.”

“We’ll continue this tomorrow night?”

“It’s a date,” she said, her smile making the words feel like a promise.

I held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary, then turned and headed toward the north entrance, already shifting back into security mode.

This—whatever was developing between Mel and me—was unconventional, almost old-fashioned in its pace. No rushing into bed, no hasty declarations. Just these quiet moments, stolen between security checks and venue changes. Getting to know each other a piece at a time, building something slowly against the chaotic backdrop of the tour.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d courted a woman like this, taking my time, savoring the anticipation. But there was something about Melanie Rivers that made me want to do this right.

Even if I did wake up most nights aching for her,remembering the softness of her lips against mine, the way she’d melted into me that night in her suite. Even if I wanted nothing more than to take her to bed and lose myself in her for hours.

Some things were worth waiting for.

Chapter 16

Mel

Everything had turned to shit.

Eight days into the tour, and I wasn’t sure I’d survive the night, much less the fourteen more shows before we got a week break. I stared at the venue schedule on my tablet, blinking hard to focus my tired eyes. Where were we again? Nashville? Memphis? No—Louisville. Tonight was Louisville.

Cities were blending together in an exhausting carousel of identical backstage areas, hotel rooms, and problems to solve. My head throbbed with the steady bass reverberating through the arena walls as the opening act finished their set. The air smelled of hair spray, sweat, and burned coffee from the catering table—a scent cocktail that had become all too familiar.

“Mel! Where’s my throat spray? I can feel myself getting scratchy!” Nova’s voice cut through the backstage activity.

I produced the spray from my bag without missing a beat. “Right here. Already checked with the sound engineer—your mic levels are perfect.”

She snatched it, spraying liberally while examining her reflection in a nearby mirror. “Are those journalists fromBillboardhere yet? They were supposed to do a quick preshow interview.”

“They’re waiting in the green room. I’ll bring them in after your vocal warm-up.”

“And what about those special fans? The contest winners?”

“Meet-and-greet is scheduled for after the show. Citadel approved the list.”

Nova nodded, already distracted by a text on her phone. “Oh, and the confetti for the finale looks cheap. Can we get something better for tomorrow’s show? Maybe those shiny metallic ones?”

“I’ll call the vendor tonight.” I made a note on my tablet, which already contained fifty-seven other urgent tasks.

This was my life—constant demands and problems to solve, an endless stream of details that threatened to drown me if I stopped paddling for even a second. Every day blurred together: wake up, wrangle Nova, manage her demands, handle PR nightmares, and keep the tour moving.

“Wardrobe crisis!” a voice called from the doorway.

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