Chapter Four

“It’s so small,” Wes mumbled, wincing at having spoken his thoughts aloud. With any luck, the wind caught his words.

He stood on the tarmac of a private airport looking at the plane that would take them to St. Louis for tonight’s concert. Sparkling white with a blue stripe, sleek with a pointed nose, and all of eight windows along its narrow body. How was something like that even safe?

“What’s the matter, Cowboy,” Shane taunted, because of course. “Afraid of flying?”

He didn’t know how Shane could have heard him after all his years performing bone-rattling, eardrum-busting music on stage. Wes’s ears were still ringing from last night’s show, and he’d been wearing industrial-grade earplugs.

He leveled a glare at Shane, who grinned back at him. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes, but Wes knew they were glittering with mirth. At least Shane was back to his usual self after the shock of discovering he’d been roofied and his stalker had already been in his hotel room, waiting for him, after his New York show.

As horrifying as the situation was, Shane had thankfully not suffered any physical harm. Aside from being drugged.

Shane had been quiet and somber after the news. He’d skipped the fan meet and greet, and Wes had guided him back to their hotel suite. Shane had hesitated to enter—a quick, full body flinch on the threshold that Wes only caught because his hand had been on the small of Shane’s back. Once inside, Wes had left Shane standing by the door while he’d reconned every possible hiding spot and cleared the suite.

Afterward, Wes dropped onto one of the two chairs that were angled opposite the sofa, where Shane sat with a haunted look in his eyes while working his way through a good half dozen sticks of gum. Watching him chew as though his life depended on it, Wes had come to the realization that Shane wasn’t a diva about his pre-concert gum for the sake of being a diva, but that the gum was a tool to help him deal with stress. Which had shocked Wes because from his first meeting with Shane, the rock star had seemed nothing but confident and unflappable, larger-than-life. Untouchable. That Shane suffered from stage fright humanized him.

But now the gum was nowhere to be found, and Shane was back to his obnoxious teasing and flirting, trying to push Wes’s buttons—and coming uncomfortably close to succeeding.

Isaac stood at the bottom of the stairs—the rest of his team having taken a commercial flight ahead of them—as Jonas and Jamie climbed up and disappeared inside the plane, followed by River and Wish. Sonia, who had been walking on Shane’s other side, climbed the steps ahead of them, and then Shane and Wes. A hungover Daryl dragged behind, his complexion sheet white and green tinged, lips pursed, and eyes hidden behind mirrored shades.

Wes clenched his jaw as he climbed the steps behind Shane.

“Wow,” Wes exhaled, the hairs on his forearms rising as he crossed the threshold.

He’d never been on a private jet before—the flight he’d taken from Haverstall Ranch was a small charter—and for a second, he could almost forget he was on a plane. Almost. Recessed track lighting highlighted the coffered ceiling. The lush, geometric-patterned carpet was cream, tan, and beige. Inviting cream-colored leather chairs arranged in fours—two on either side of tables with lacquered wood tops—looked like any other corporate office he’d been in.

“Right?” Shane strolled into the belly of the plane, all loose-limbed and easy grace. “This is the only way to fly.”

He dropped his lanky frame onto one of the single reclining chairs next to the windows and kicked up the footrest. He leaned back and crossed one biker-booted foot over the other .

Irritation at how relaxed Shane was—which Wes knew was irrational—helped to keep his nerves at flying in check. He settled into the single chair across from Shane.

A wood-paneled wall near the back housed a large-screen TV that Wes knew he wouldn’t be able to settle enough to watch, and to the right of it stood a doorway. An open curtain revealed a short hall that likely led to a kitchen and bathroom.

Time moved simultaneously fast and slow as everyone seated themselves and buckled in for takeoff. Before Wes knew it, they were hurtling through the air thirty-thousand feet above the earth in a tiny aluminum tube. He closed his eyes and took several slow and deep breaths. When he lifted his lids, Shane was watching him with a contemplative expression on his face.

“What?” Wes challenged.

Shane shrugged, his mouth tilting in a crooked grin. “Nothing.”

Wes glanced out the window and gulped. Much too high. He shifted in his seat to angle away from the window.

“The chair swivels,” Shane offered, laughter underpinning his voice. He waved a hand. “So, you know, you don’t have to twist with the seatbelt on.”

Wes narrowed his eyes but found a button on the side that released the chair, allowing him to turn it. Ignoring Shane’s smirk, he looked around the cabin for something safer to focus on than plummeting to his death.

Jonas and Sonia sat across from each other at a table, both with their heads down over their devices. Sonia was tapping away on her tablet, and Jonas’s thumbs were flying over his cell phone. Isaac sat up front, behind the open cockpit, chatting with the pilot. River and Jamie were playing a card game at the other table. Wish had headphones on, her eyes closed and head bobbing to the beat of music only she could hear. Daryl was snoring softly, his chair fully reclined.

Agitation clawed under the surface of Wes’s skin at seeing someone asleep on a plane. Again, not rational, but there just the same. No matter how long a flight was, or how tired he was, he’d never slept on a plane. Not even dozed .

Shane laughed, soft and melodic, and drew Wes’s attention from the dangers of flight. Shane had his phone in his hand, gaze fixed on the screen.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Wes asked, “Funny cat video?”

Shane’s gaze snapped to his, amusement lit his eyes. “Oh my god, did you just make a joke?”

No, he hadn’t. But when he didn’t respond, Shane turned his phone around for Wes to see the screen. Framed in a familiar-looking social media feed was a photo of the two of them sitting in the stands at the arena in Toronto. Wes remembered the moment. The first time Shane had spoken as they’d watched the roadies putting the stage together, when Shane had shared how much he loved to watch the stage go up.

In the image, Wes was looking at him from his seat in the row behind Shane and one over, but the angle of the photo made it look like they were closer together. The brim of Wes’s cowboy hat hid his expression. Before Shane pulled his phone back, Wes caught a comment under the image that read: Who is that hunky cowboy ?

Jesus . Just what he needed.

Shane shimmied in his seat. He leaned back and crossed one leg over his knee.

“ ‘Who is that hunky cowboy ?’” Shane read the comment out loud, modulating his voice with a surprisingly convincing southern twang as he spoke. “ ‘Whoa, dude! Is that your boyfriend ?’” He looked up and winked at Wes before continuing. “ ‘What a cute couple!’ Aww . . . See?” Shane angled his phone toward Wes again and shook it. “Even strangers know we’d be cute together.”

Wes rolled his eyes. Like that is ever going to happen .

“ ‘Let’s see more photos!’ ” Shane read in that sexy faux twang. “ ‘What’s his name? We need to ship you two!’ ”

“Ship us where?” Wes frowned and Shane laughed.

“They want to ship us together,” Shane said. The unspoken duh hung heavy in the air between them.

“What the hell does that mean?” Irritation leaked into Wes’s voice.

Shane raised his eyebrows. “How can you not know what shipping is? ”

Wes threw his arms up. This was all Greek to him. Sure, he was a computer wizard, but his forte was on the back end—coding and scripts and chasing down digital trails. Not the latest trends in pop culture.

Shane took pity on him and clarified, “It’s a fan thing. They pair up real people or fictional characters and create whole relationships for them. Part of the culture is mashing their names together.”

“That makes no sense.” Wes leaned back and crossed his arms. He didn’t want to be shipped with Shane.

“Let’s see . . .” Shane gazed up at the ceiling in thought, tapping a finger on his chin. “ Weshane . No. That’s awful. It should start with my name, obviously.”

Wes snorted. “Obviously.”

“ Shwes . Ugh, no. That sounds like a drunk slurring their words. Shaness . Hmm . . . That has potential. It’s like Your Highness, but starting with Shane, of course.” Shane stared off into the distance for a second. “What is Wes short for?”

“Wesley,” Wes answered reluctantly.

Shane sat up straight and snapped his fingers. “Shanesley!”

Wes rolled his eyes. “You know what works good?” He paused for effect while Shane stared at him expectantly. “Wes and Shane.”

Shane’s entire face brightened, and something in Wes’s chest did a slow roll.

“Did you just couple us?” The excitement in Shane’s voice would have been adorable at any other time, but . . . Wait.

“What?” He replayed his words and groaned inwardly. “Hell no! I only meant my name by itself and your name by itself. No shipping.”

Especially not on the job with a client. He could just imagine the flak he would take from Colt if Wes followed him and crossed the professional line. No. There would be no shipping, no name blending, and absolutely no coupling.

“Uh-huh,” Shane snickered and leaned back in his chair to continue reading comments out loud. After a few more ridiculous remarks about them being a couple, and if they weren’t, they needed to be, Shane frowned. “Oh.”

“Oh, what? ”

Shane shrugged and continued scrolling. “Doesn’t matter. Someone always has to chime in with negative comments. Like they think their opinions matter. Some assholes just like to troll and try to get a rise out of you.”

“Let me read them,” Wes said. He had no idea why complete strangers were so invested in another person’s life. He didn’t understand fan culture.

“No. They don’t matter,” Shane agreed. “They clearly aren’t fans.”

“They matter because one of them could be your stalker,” Wes tried again. “I can track them.”

Shane looked up at him and an array of emotions crossed his face before amusement won out. “There are thousands of messages.”

Shit. Yeah . That would take weeks, if not months, to sort through.

A chime pinged on Shane’s phone, announcing he had an incoming text message or email. Shane’s fingers tapped around the screen. The grin slipped from his face and his complexion paled. Wes kicked into high alert and leaned forward.

“What?”

When Shane didn’t answer, didn’t look up from his phone, Wes eased the device from his lax fingers. Whatever Shane had just read was hitting him hard, because he didn’t make a single sound of complaint about Wes taking his phone.

Shane’s email app was open to a new message. The sender’s handle was Your1andOnly and the subject header read: Stay away from him. The body of the email was short, but it made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck and his skin crawl.

My dearest Shane,

I’m very disappointed with the photo I saw of you with that cowboy. You know I don’t like it when you tease me. You belong to me and only me. I don’t know who that man is, but you’d better tell him to stay away from you or else I’ll get rid of him myself. Remember, you are mine. We are destined.

See you soon, my darling.

Your one and only love.

“This is your personal email, yes?” Wes asked and Shane nodded. “How did they get this?”

Shane shook his head, his eyes deer-in-headlights wide .

“Who all knows your private email address?”

“Sonia, Jonas, Isaac, Chloe. The whole band. A few roadies. The label.” Shane pinched his mouth. While Wes wasn’t as mastered at reading people as his brother Colt was, Wes was skilled enough to know that Shane was holding something back.

“Who else? An ex?” The word “ex” tasted oddly bitter in Wes’s mouth.

“No,” Shane replied, his voice low and detached sounding. “There aren’t a lot of exes, and I’ve blocked the ones who had this email.”

“Did you block Doug, too?”

“No,” Shane said, and Wes could’ve sworn he heard an eye roll in Shane’s words when he continued, “I already told you, we’re good friends.”

“But there’s someone else?” Wes pressed.

Shane looked away, as though embarrassed. “My mom.”

Wes frowned. Why would that be a thing of concern?

“Why didn’t you want to tell me that?” Wes softened his voice. “My mom and I exchange emails all the time.”

Shane’s voice was monotone when he said, “We haven’t talked for a long time.”

Oh . Wes and his brothers were lucky to have an amazing mother who loved them unconditionally and proved it by supporting and encouraging them to be themselves. She gave them the confidence they’d needed to navigate a world that wasn’t always kind to people who didn’t fit the literal straight and narrow. He knew not every kid was as fortunate. Though luck should never have anything to do with it. A little part of his heart ached at the thought of Shane’s family turning away from him. A parent’s job was to love their kids, no matter what.

Wes cleared his throat. “What’s your password?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m taking over your email.”

Shane snorted and reached for his phone. “I don’t think so.”

“Yes.” Wes held the phone out of Shane’s reach. “This way I can intercept any emails the stalker sends and track them. Don’t worry, I won’t read any not sent by your one and only. ”

Shane tried to stare him down, but Wes didn’t intimidate that easy. Especially not by clients who didn’t know what was best for them. Finally, Shane relented. He collapsed into his chair.

“It’s S-H-A-N-E-R-O-X.”

Wes looked up at him in disbelief, his jaw dropping. “Are you serious right now?”

Shane puffed out his chest and sat taller in his seat. “Yeah, so? It’s a good password and I won’t ever forget it.”

Wes shook his head. Unbelievable . “How you haven’t been hacked yet is beyond me.”

He changed the password to Shane’s account, set up a two-step verification to his number so Shane couldn’t change it again, and copied the path to his own devices.

“Trust me,” Wes said, handing Shane’s phone back to him. “It’s safer this way.”

“ Pfft . Whatever.”

Shane put his phone away, crossed his arms, and his sulk tugged a smile from the corners of Wes’s mouth.

The plane jolted, the sensation much like a car going over a curb. Make that multiple curbs. Wes’s breath caught and his heart shot into his throat. He clamped his hands on the chair armrests so hard his fingers ached and squeezed his eyes shut.

Just turbulence. Planes don’t fall from the sky because of turbulence. Planes are safer than cars . Wes went on reciting stats in his mind, assuring himself there was nothing to worry about.

“I joined the Mile High Club when I was nineteen years old.” Shane’s voice cut through Wes’s we will not crash mantra, smooth and relaxed and completely unaffected, as if the plane wasn’t bucking like a bronco.

He would not look at Shane.

“Let me tell you,” Shane continued as the plane cleared the turbulence, but Wes still gripped the seat. “Trying to have sex in a box less than three feet wide really isn’t all that comfortable. Or exciting. Not to mention, everyone waiting in line to use the facilities can hear everything. Great, if you’re an exhibitionist, I guess.”

Wes peeled his eyelids open. He’d expected a taunting or flirtatious expression from Shane, but his warm eyes shone with a kindness that Wes hadn’t seen before .

“Now.” Shane leaned forward, pitching his voice lower. “A private jet has larger lavatories. Take this plane, for instance. It’s like something you’d find in a swanky hotel room. Not only is it spacious, but there’s also a full-size shower and dressing area with two comfy leather chairs.”

Wes loosened his death grip on the armrests but kept his hands on them, just in case.

“So, if you want to join the Mile High Club . . .” Shane leaned back. He raised an eyebrow and flashed a teasing smirk at Wes. And he’s back . “This is the best place to have your initiation. Not that I’m offering, of course.”

“Of course.” Wes’s voice was rough, but the sarcasm he pushed into it rang clear. “I would never expect that.”

Shane’s mouth twitched as he rose from his chair. Wes tracked him as he walked toward the back of the plane, into the kitchen area he’d glimpsed when they’d boarded, and returned with a can of Ginger Ale. He popped the tab and passed it to Wes.

“Thank you.”

Shane tipped his head, one brief nod, his smile kind and genuine as he returned to his seat and resumed his internet surfing.

Wes took a few swigs of the cool, bubbly pop as his nerves settled. He’d never admit how much he appreciated Shane distracting him from his brief bout of panic—it would only feed the man’s ego. But seeing a side of Shane that wasn’t a completely selfish rock star piqued his curiosity. Shane was complex, like computer code, and a part of Wes wanted to dive in and see what his inner workings would reveal.

Shane glanced up from his phone, a grin on his lips that promised more than Wes wanted, could want, and mouthed Shanesley .

The show in St. Louis had gone off like magic. In the green room post-show while the band did their debriefing, Shane kept glancing over at Wes, who again stood against the wall near the door. He was a little more relaxed than he’d been in Toronto, but he still watched everyone like a hawk. Especially Doug .

Then they made their way to the fan meet and greet.

“Shane! Hi!” Max, Sonia’s boyfriend, rushed toward him, and Wes stepped in front of Shane to shield him. Max’s steps faltered and his brows creased in confusion.

“It’s good,” Shane said to Wes, putting a hand on Wes’s arm to pull him back. Shane’s heart did a little kick in his chest at the feel of all that solid muscle. He cleared his throat. “This is Max, Sonia’s boyfriend.”

Wes remained motionless for a second and then he stepped back.

“And you are?” Max asked as he held his hand out. Wes took it in a quick shake, and Shane didn’t miss the pinch of Max’s mouth before letting go. No doubt Wes used the alpha male grip Shane had expected when he’d first met Wes.

“Wes Stonebraker,” he replied, his rumbling voice tight and emotionless, but offered nothing more.

Shane laughed. “Wes is my bodyguard.”

Max’s eyebrows shot up. “What do you need a bodyguard for?”

“Just part of the business.” Shane shrugged. Talking about his stalker was the last thing he wanted to do. “But what are you doing here? This is a nice surprise.”

“That’s exactly what it is.” Max grinned. “I missed Sonia and wanted to surprise her.”

Max lived in Los Angeles, so a concert wasn’t a last-minute decision on a Friday night. Traveling halfway across the country to see her was such a romantic gesture. A tiny tendril of envy slithered through Shane’s chest. Would he ever find that?

Sonia approached and handed Max a beer. “Isn’t he the sweetest?”

Shane looked between the two of them. They made a cute couple. Sonia was a petite brunette and always so serious, and Max was a skinny guy of average height with hair the same shade as Sonia’s. His eyes were gray where hers were warm brown, and he had sharp eye teeth, like a vampire. The thought never failed to amuse Shane. He often teased Sonia about her little vampire.

Max blushed and stuck his free hand in the back pocket of Sonia’s jeans while holding the beer in his other hand.

“How did you like the show?” Shane asked .

Max’s eyebrows rose as he spoke excitedly. “It was amazing. One of the best shows of yours I’ve ever seen. And when you sang “Baby, Let’s Be Free”, it was like you were having a private conversation with the audience.”

Shane grinned. Max had been to several of their shows, and every time he said it was the best ever . Max never failed to entertain him. “Glad you liked it, and I’m glad you came to surprise Sonia. She works too hard.”

“On that note.” Sonia pulled Max’s hand out of her pocket, laced their fingers together. “Shane has work to do.”

“See you later, Shane,” Max chirped. He spared Wes a curious glance as they left.

“Max seems a little starstruck by you,” Wes said with a thoughtful note in his voice.

“Of course he is. I’m a famous rock star and I’m hot.” Shane touched a couple fingers to his shoulder and made a hissing sound. “All that and a bag of chips,” he quipped. “I tend to have that effect on people.”

Wes snorted, his voice light as he said, “Not everyone. Not me.”

“Sure, sure.” Shane grinned at him. “You keep telling yourself that.”