Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

TOMMY

I t took us four hours to finish packing and loading the last three trucks.

It probably would have taken less time, but I was lost in my head. Replaying the night. And this morning.

I tripped over cables, screwed up the log sheet, and nearly dropped a ten-thousand-dollar instrument on Ace's foot. My boss looked at me with concern and no wonder. And when he asked a question, and I blanked, it was time out for me.

"Why don't you head back to the hotel and grab your stuff?" Ace offered with a smile. "I'll meet you at the bus."

"But there's the final sign-off," I added.

"I'll take care of it. I think you need to rest up. Besides, the two guys who were sick yesterday are fine now. If I need any help, I'll call on them."

"Thanks, Ace. I'll see you later."

"We'll talk on the bus, right?"

I nodded, grateful. I didn't have to name names, but maybe talking this out would help. I'd never been so distracted by a man before. I hoped to fuck it was temporary.

"You sure everything's okay?" he asked.

I paused. "Yeah."

But I really didn't know. Everything in my life was the same this morning and yet, I felt different.

By the time I headed back upstairs, only a skeleton crew remained. It was way too quiet now that the boys from Wayward Lane were gone.

More importantly, so was Nate.

I walked across the stage, the floorboards creaking, and stood in the center, looking out at the empty theater. Remembering the way Nate had gripped that mic and the passionate sound of his voice, the incredible rush of the crowd's applause in return. I knew I'd be watching videos from last night's concert for quite some time.

Waving to my fellow roadies, I walked out of the concert hall and headed back to the hotel.

It was foggy now, and the streets smelled like brine and stale booze. No wonder, considering NOLA was party central every day.

When I got back to my hotel, I grabbed my suitcase and shoved my clothes in haphazardly. I grabbed my personal items from the nightstand—including the almost empty bottle of lube—and then my toiletries from the bathroom.

Taking one final look around, I spotted something on the bed.

It was Nate's black lace jockstrap. Just thinking about him spread out on my bed had my pulse racing.

Without hesitation, I picked up the sexy garment and threw it in my backpack. I'd think about the why later.

I grabbed a rideshare and made it to the bus in ten minutes. Sam, our driver, was the only one there so far. Once we got my suitcase stored, I headed inside, placed my backpack on the dining table and sat on one of the comfy chairs. It had been a long couple of days, and I was hoping it would be extra quiet on the ride back to Nashville. That was usually the way once the show was over. Was that good or bad? That unsettled feeling in my stomach just wouldn't quit.

Why? Maybe because I didn't get to give Nate a proper goodbye. I didn't have his damn phone number to text or call him, either. Van would have it for sure. But I didn't want to text the band's manager and raise any flags. Or, maybe I could text Ace? But he was busy now. And I didn't want to sit around here waiting another hour or two. Might as well go back and speak to Ace in person.

Not wasting a moment, I got up and bounded down the stairs.

But as I made to open the door, someone else was doing the same from the other side. I pitched forward, losing my footing.

Don't fall . But it was too late.

I stumbled down the last step until Nate caught me.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, surprised and surprisingly out of breath at the sight of him.

"Are you okay?" he asked as I righted myself, still clutching tight to his arms.

"I was…I was just leaving to go back to the venue to talk to Ace. I wanted, well, I thought maybe—" Holy shit, I could barely speak. And Nate's face was so close, his lips a temptation I couldn't ignore. "I wanted to get your number. To text you. To say goodbye. Or, you know, hi."

Nate's responding smile had my heart beating double time.

"I came by because you forgot something," he started.

I stared at him, puzzled. Until he pointed to his jacket. Mine.

"Looks better on you," I confessed.

Then I ran my shaky hands over his shoulders, up his neck, and finally, cupping his face and pulling him in for a languid kiss.

I tasted his smile and kissed him harder.

When we finally came up for air, he held out his hand. "Give me your phone."

I passed it over, and he quickly tapped in his number.

"This isn't a promise," he admitted as he passed the phone back, his blue eyes earnest. "I don't know where I'll be a week from now, never mind tomorrow."

"I'm not asking for that," I replied, pulling him in tightly. "Just a text. Or a call. And maybe, sometime down the road, a date in Nashville?"

Nate nodded and kissed me.

"I'm all for that."

Nate

I didn't know what the hell I was doing, except what felt right.

As a professional musician, I always trusted my gut. It never steered me wrong.

And last night, today, was no different.

I could only imagine what my bandmates would think of all this, about me and Tommy. They'd tell me I was crazy.

It's a one-night stand. Forget about him. You have the world to explore.

But I knew myself. Something about Tommy called to me. There was no logical explanation, and I didn't need one. The kinetic energy between us couldn't be denied.

We could've just walked away from last night. I'd done it so many times before and I had no regrets. But walking away from him? For the first time in my life, I didn't want to.

I also didn't lie. I couldn't make promises. I wouldn't. Neither could Tommy.

He was a roadie, and I was a rockstar.

But that didn't mean I wasn't willing to see where this might go. Maybe nowhere. Or maybe someplace that neither of us could imagine.

"Safe travels, cher ," I whispered when we finally pulled apart.

Tommy grinned, and those incredible dimples teased me. "You have unlimited text and calling, right?"

"I do."

"Good." He squeezed my hand.

"I have to go," I replied.

I made to take off Tommy's jacket, but he put his hand on my shoulder.

"I want you to have it," he insisted.

I didn't argue. Instead, I pulled the leather jacket tighter around my body and nodded.

He let me go and turned to step back up onto the bus.

"And don't worry, it's a fair trade," he quipped over his shoulder.

"What do you mean?"

"I got your sexy underwear and your phone number." He winked at me. "And I'm keeping them."