Page 24 of #Moonstruck

As if what he’d just said about me wasn’t enough, that flashing, fiery, intense gaze of his caused my stomach to do flips and my pulse to frantically throb, and I thought my brothers probably should worry.

Just a little.

Okay, a lot.

Fitz, Cole, and Parker climbed into the booth, and both Ryan and I had to scoot down to make room. Fitz told Ryan that we didn’t have the money or the ability to travel around.

“We have over fifty crew members traveling in seven tour buses, and eight semitrucks carrying full production. I have room on my bus. You guys can travel with me and my band.”

Ryan’s gaze flickered back to me, and ice solidified in my veins. I was going to be sleeping near him and traveling around with him and basically living with him?

Other people would be there, including the Dating Police trio, but still.

When Fitz brought up production costs, Ryan offered the use of his touring production crew. They would be able to take care of everything for us, including setup and takedown. “Brad is our production manager. I’ll get you his contact information. I’ll send you Piper’s information, too—she’s our tour manager and will tell you everything you need to know.”

“Is all the traveling done by bus?” Cole asked, and I felt bad for him. He was prone to vehicle motion sickness.

Ryan’s face turned pale, and his mouth became a thin line. “Yes. No planes.”

When I’d been obsessed with Ryan as a young teen, part of what had made him so romantic was his tragic life story. I’d watched a documentary about Ryan once or twice. (Okay, five times.) His mother, Sofia De Luna, was a girl from New Mexico who wanted to be a singer. She kept being told the same thing—because of her name and appearance, she should go into the Latin pop market. Problem was, she didn’t speak a word of Spanish (her own dad had died when she was young). But she quickly learned how to sing Spanish phonetically and became a huge success.

Ryan’s father had worked at one of the biggest American record labels, and he saw her perform at the Grammys. He asked if she’d be interested in crossing over, as so many Latino artists were doing at the time. He’d been excited to find out she spoke perfect English. He had her record a demo and convinced his label to sign her.

They fell in love, got married (at a wedding that ran into seven figures), and had Ryan.

A year later the marriage fell apart. His mother took Ryan on tour with her, hiring tutors when he got to be school-age. Sofia became a massive pop star in America as well, in part due to her relentless touring. Her first English album had four number-one hits.

When Ryan was seven years old, they were on their way to a concert in Puerto Rico when they ran into a terrible storm with hurricane-level winds, and the plane crashed.

Only three people survived, Ryan being one of them. They said Sofia wrapped Ryan in pillows and blankets and then protected him with her body.

I didn’t blame him for avoiding planes.

They all started discussing terms and contracts and agreements. My brothers grilled him like it was their last day on the police force and they didn’t care if they got in trouble for being overzealous because they were about to retire.

I finished my pie and then reached out to slowly slide his barely touched slice toward me. It seemed like a waste not to finish it. As I did so, Ryan shot me one of his patented Ryan De Luna winks that made my knees feel like they were made out of whipped cream.

There had to be a way to stop this. To stop reacting this way, to logically tell myself he was the kind of guy who had to kick girls out of his bed. He didn’t need to chase after someone who had repeatedly told him she wasn’t into him and it wouldn’t happen. Maybe he saw me as some kind of challenge, but he couldn’t really be interested.

If I could just remember that nothing physical would ever happen between Ryan and me, maybe I could control myself.

As I sat and listened to them talk, I felt more and more guilt over how I’d talked to Ryan the night we met. I had been horrible to him, and here he was doing something completely amazing and life-changing for us. He was going to make it so that we could keep taking care of our mom and keep our home. I felt like I didn’t deserve his kindness.

The conversation wound down, and Ryan said he had an early interview in the morning. Fitz got up to let Ryan slide out of the booth.

“It’s been ... interesting meeting you all. I’ll see you bright and early Friday morning. The bus leaves at eight a.m. sharp, and Piper has no problem leaving anyone behind.”

He looked at me as if he wanted me to say something.

Instead, he got out his wallet and put another hundred-dollar bill on the table to pay for our pumpkin pies. As he headed for the door, I started pushing at Cole. “Move. I need to walk him out.”

Cole shook his head. “He’s a big boy. He doesn’t need you to walk him out.”

“I’m not going to get pregnant between here and the sidewalk. Don’t follow me,” I growled, standing up in the booth and walking across the table. Parker yelled something at me, but I tuned him out.

Ryan must have seen me coming after him because he was waiting outside.

As the diner door swung shut behind me, I suddenly felt shy and idiotic. “Um, hey.”

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