Page 19 of Mr. Not Nice Guy

I laugh with her. “Sounds fun.” My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to check who it is. Scarlett’s calling meagain, and I press the button to ignore it before glancing at the sky again. “So, will they actually keep the festival open today if it starts raining?”

“If there’s lightning, they’ll shut it down.” Liza shrugs. “A little rain never hurt anyone.”

“Right,” I say, still peering at the clouds. It is muggy as fuck, and between the lack of sleep and the humidity, I feel like I’m going blind from a fog in my brain.

“How’s Scarlett?” Liza asks. “Is she nervous about playing her first festival?”

“Oh.” I shift my gaze because I don’t actually know how she is. I’m purposefully avoiding her and communicating only the most necessary information via text. “She’s fine. This is a bigger audience than she’s used to, but she’s not fazed by it.”

“Her outfit isamazing,” Liza goes on, and I resist the urge to grit my teeth because I have a feeling she didn’t wear what I told her to, but I’m not going to find her just to check. “I’m still not sure about that haircut.” She winces. “It’s soshort. Her hair was amazing. I can’t believe she wanted to cut it and change the color.”

“Yep, she’s trying to embrace the whole retro thing,” I say, avoiding looking at either of them. “I think she really wants to stand out.”

“The purplereallymade her stand out,” Brennan underscores. “But the red and the short curls definitely make a statement, too.”

“Yeah,” I echo absently, and maybe it wasn’t the best idea. But then again, I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly after a surprise hand-job from myclient,essentiallyin public.

Scarlett is going to fucking ruin me. And I don’t know how this is going to work in the long run.

And speak of the damn devil herself, my phone is buzzing again.

I slip my hand in my pocket to ignore the call.

“Well,” Liza says with a sigh, peering at the clouds. “I think we’re going to check in with Oscar. Can you handle Sylvia and Scarlett, or should we try to divide and conquer?”

“Oh, no, I’ve got them both,” I say quickly, then offer a warm smile. “I know this festival has a lot of sentimental value for you guys and Oscar. You should go take care of him. I can handle the ladies.”

Brennan flashes a grin and points at me. “Yes! Handle those ladies, Hawkins.”

I offer a congenial chuckle and point back at him. “Right.”

For fuck’ssake.

Ihatethat guy.

Nevertheless, I politely wave at them as I step away from the tent.

Sylvia’s set isn’t until much later in the day, so she’s not even here yet. And Scarlett’s blowing up my phoneagainwhen she’s supposed to be going on, so I guess I should go see what the fuck her deal is.

The phone rings twice more as I take my sweet time crossing the fairground and finally make it to the restricted area behind the stage where she’s supposed to perform any minute now.

After flashing my badge at a security guard, I weave through the equipment in search of her, and spot her at one corner of the stage, just out of view while she goes back and forth with one of the event managers. Her red hair is done up in bouncy curls, but she’s dressed in a vintage, royal purple, pin-up style dress, andnotthe glittering burlesque costume I instructed her to wear, and fuckingA.

“Just hang on, I’m sure he’ll answer,” Scarlett insists, exasperation dripping from her tone as she lifts the phone to her ear.

My phone buzzes once again, but the sight of her in a costume that isnotwhat I told her to wear just pisses me off, and she can just deal with whatever is going on on her own.

“Okay, listen, tootsie,” the event manager barks, pointing a sausage-sized finger at the restless crowd, “we don’t have time to wait on your missing band. Get up there and do something, or I’m sending in the next act.”

Scarlett skims her gaze around frantically while my phone continues to buzz, but I don’t answer and stay out of sight.

“August, where are you?” she snaps into the phone. “I have no band. Nobody’s here. I’m going onright now, and I haveno band!”

A twinge of guilt claws at my chest, but the sight of her only brings to life all the disturbing dreams, and I just don’t want to deal with her. She can fail once. It happens to every up-and-coming artist, and maybe it’ll teach her to not fuck with me so much and act like a goddamn professional.

Though…even I know that my own behavior in this moment is less than professional, but fuck it. Now I’m just curious how she’s going to handle this.

The event manager snatches the phone out of her hand. “Get on stage, or get out of the way.” And with that, his hand flies through the air and connects with her perfectly round ass in a hard, loud slap.

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