Page 90 of All's Fair in Love & Vegas

Iskirt pastAdrian, wanting to get the hell away as quickly as humanly possible. “Willdo.”

“How’she holding up?”

Stoppingat the curtain, my shoulders slump, gaze falling down the strings of beads down to the gray concrete floor. “I’mtakin’ him to his mom’s after this so he isn’t alone.”

“Bringhim to our place,”Zakinsists.

Ishake my head, turning to face the twins. “Ithink he needs his mom right now.”

Theystudy me intently, andIwatch them, the three of us in a silent whirlwind violently thrashing between worry and jealousy and unease and something elseIcan’t quite put my finger on.

“Who’swith him right now?”Adrianasks.

Insteadof answering,Ignaw on my bottom lip.

Angerflares in his eyes. “Areyou fucking kidding me?” he yells. “Whythe fuck didn’t you call us?”

Tearssting my eyes asIyell back, “BecauseIwas busy making sure he didn’t take a fucking razor to his wrists.”

Theirfaces fall the same timeIfeel warmth streaking down my face.

Iswipe it away angrily and sniffle. “KeepingShannonsafe is more important than your stupid rivalry withTy.SoI’mgonna go get us breakfast tacos and take him to hisMom’s, and we’re gonna figure out how to get his wife home safe.”

Chapter32

“Hot Soap”

–My Ticket Home

“IwishDreewould stop with all the groupies,”Icomment irritatedly, watching him grope a brunette outside his hotel room through the window of ours.Hebrought a couple of them back from the show we played here inCorpusChristi, but it looks like only one has stuck around.

Zakshrugs. “He’slivin’ up the rock star life.”

Crossingmy arms,Ispin to faceZakwith a raised brow. “You’rea rock star, too,”Isay. “Youkeeping any groupies in the wings from me?”

Hesmirks devilishly. “Whoneeds groupies whenIhave the band’s main star?”

Myeyes narrow. “Mhmm.”

Hisarms slip around me from behind, pushing my hips against the desk as he kisses my neck. “Doesmy rock star girlfriend wanna be a groupie for her favorite guitarist for a night?” he murmurs in my ear, sex appeal dripping hot and heavy from his deep voice.

Itseems silly, me playing the role of a horny groupie, but the thought makes me grin.

Iturn in his arms, letting my eyelids half close asItwirl a lock of blond hair around my finger. “I’myour biggest fan.”

“Oh, yeah?”Hestraightens up. “Howso?”

“Iknow all your songs by heart, forward and backward, andI’mgoing to every concert on this tour.”

Hesuppresses a snort.Iwonder how many times he’s heard this from a girl. “It’stough bein’ on the road.How’sa girl like you gonna survive?”

Myfingertips lightly drag over the dark fabric of his shirt covering his chest. “Maybea hot rock star will let me crash his bunk on his fancy tour bus and have his way with me backstage?”

Hetries so hard not to lose it at the bunk part, and so doI—there’s nothing fancy or glamorous about a tour bus, especially not when you’re stuck on it with four guys who love trying to outdo one another farting.

Zakclears his throat, regaining his composure. “Idunno,Ihave a girl back home.”

“C’mon, what’s a fine-ass rock star like you doin’ stuck with a ball and chain that won’t let you have any fun?”

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