“Will do, boss.” She grabs her bag and hops out the back of the truck.
I catch the door and follow her out. She skips toward a group of people and talks to one of the guys. He nods and smiles, then they walk toward the cars.
“I guess that’s Johnny.”
“Yep,” Colt says.
He smiles at me, and my stomach gets that weird fluttery feeling that only happens when I really like someone, or I drink too much Red Bull. He takes a few steps closer, and the parking lot lights highlight his jawline. I want to reach out and touch his freshly shaven face, but don’t.
This is familiar but also new. A lot of life has happened to both of us since we went our separate paths.
“I wanted to take you someplace nice, but the last scene took longer to shoot than they thought.”
My stomach stops fluttering and buckles as I imagine the last scene being between him and the other girl, who at the moment stands in the distance with the director and cameraman. Probably planning out tomorrow’s love scenes. Ick!
“And I’m pretty sure I’m still wearing some makeup,” Colt adds.
I shift my focus back to him and laugh. “I know a good place if you don’t mind eating leftovers.”
He grins. I tilt my head toward the front of the truck. “You can follow me. I’ll take you to your truck.”
He grins wider and gets in the passenger side, but only sits for a second before rising from the seat. “Ouch.” He lifts a hairbrush.
“Sorry. Genesis is usually running late and pulls her hair back on the way.”
He sets the brush on the dash. I drive off the lot, stopping by his truck. He climbs out and lingers at the open door. His eyes have a playfulness I haven’t seen in years. I know that look all too well, and it’s dangerous.
It’s the same look he gave me that night with the mistletoe. And many times afterward whenever we kissed.
“I’ll be right behind you.” His voice borders on flirty in tone.
I watch him shut the door, then fix my eyes on the road. Am I sure I want to do this? Letting Colt into my career and casually talking about work is one thing. Inviting him into my private life is entirely different.
At the next traffic light, I hold my breath and make a decision. I hope it’s the right one.
CHAPTER 8
COLT
Tiffany leads me to a small neighborhood area on the beachside. She parks in the carport of a wooden house on stilts and gets out. I park to the side and meet her at the back of the food truck.
She opens the door and climbs inside. “Okay, we’re out of steak, so I hope you like chicken fajitas.”
“Perfect.”
My answer is more about eating dinner with her than the food. We could eat ramen noodles over an open fire for all I care. I really just want to spend time alone with her.
“Here we go.” She loads her arms with containers.
I step inside to help. “Here, give me those.”
She shuffles them around so I can take them. My head dips close to hers when I hug the stack of pans. I fight back feelings creeping inside, even though it’s clear she brought me to her house.
“Thanks.” She closes the refrigerator and follows me out.
I step back and follow her up the stairs. She unlocks the door and flips on the light to a very Tiffany place. It’s full of girly things like bright pillows on the couch and curtains with flowers. I don’t even have curtains—or a permanent place to live.
When you tour with a band and sleep mostly on a bus bunk, it makes moresense to VRBO short-term. Ever since I started pursing a music career, I could fit everything I own into a backpack. Well, besides my guitar, but it has a case.