Chapter Six

“What are you frowning about?” Shane asked.

Wes was sitting on a chair in the living room by the wide-open patio doors with his phone in his hand. He wore jeans and a charcoal-colored T-shirt with “Haverstall Mountain Wild Horse Sanctuary” in a gold western-style font arched over a white silhouette of two battling stallions. Underneath, smaller, it read: “Havenridge, Colorado.”

Wes looked up, one eyebrow raised, and desire rocked into Shane. Wes had shaved his mustache and beard the day before, which made him appear younger and more approachable. More attractive.

Dammit .

A gentle ocean breeze drifted inside, ruffling the ends of Wes’s hair, and the setting sun painted his skin in warm peach and pink tones. He was gorgeous, and for a minute, Shane forgot he was a cowboy. Not decked out in his standard flannel button-up shirt, cowboy boots, and hat, he looked like he’d be more comfortable on a surfboard than a horse.

But he did not want to be attracted to Wes Stonebraker. Sure, he’d been overly flirtatious, but that was more to show Wes he was strong and unapologetic about who he was, and to throw Wes off his game. Maybe get him to quit so Shane wouldn’t have the constant specter of his past trying to snake into his present. But he liked having Wes around. Enjoyed his company. And when the hell had that happened?

“Now you’re frowning,” Wes said in that low rumbling voice of his that sent shivers over Shane’s skin.

Shane raised his hands—a bottle of microbrew in each—and motioned for the patio. They’d fallen into a comfortable rhythm over the past couple of days. Mornings they went for a run on the beach—make that walks—that Shane had been enjoying far too much. The rest of the day Shane secluded himself in his studio or dealt with band- and tour-related issues. In the evenings, after dinners that Wes made, he and Wes sat on the patio to watch the sun disappear into the ocean.

Wes put his phone on the side table and followed him onto the patio. “You get some interesting emails. To say the least.”

“Comes with the job.” Shane handed Wes his drink as he sat. He took a swig before adding, “Honestly, it gets old.”

“I can imagine,” Wes said. “I think what shocks me the most, even more than the insanely intimate photos total strangers send, is the entitlement some of your fans feel toward you.”

“In my personal email?”

“No,” Wes replied quickly. “I was checking your public one. Chloe gave me access.”

“I don’t pay attention to that one, but I can usually brush most things off,” Shane said. A tremor grabbed him at his next thought. “Nothing new from my stalker dude?”

“You shouldn’t assume they’re a ‘dude.’ Stalking isn’t the sole purview of men,” Wes said. “Delusion isn’t specific to any gender.”

“No, I guess not.”

They sat in silence until the early autumn sun vanished and the sky faded from cornflower blue to indigo to star-littered black velvet. The temperature plummeted, sending shivers tumbling down Shane’s spine. He went inside and grabbed a couple of hoodies from the closet, handing one to Wes when he returned.

“Thank you,” Wes said as he held the hoodie up—a distressed white logo on the chest read Neptune’s Net —before pulling it over his head. “It’s purple.”

Shane chuckled. “You have something against the color purple now, too?”

“No.” Wes leaned back in his chair. His expression becoming contemplative as he took a long draught of his beer. “Why is everything white?”

Shane turned to meet his gaze. “What?”

Wes waved behind him. “Your condo. Everything is white. It feels so . . . Not you. ”

“Oh?” Shane grinned and lowered his voice. “What do I feel like?”

Wes firmed his lips and looked away. “Never mind.”

“It’s quiet,” Shane said after a minute of heavy silence. He didn’t talk about things that went deeper than what people saw—what he wanted people to see—but a part of him wanted to try. With Wes. “As much as I love performing live, being on the road is chaotic and exhausting and half the time I don’t know where I am. It’s constantly changing—venues, hotels, people—and sometimes it’s too much.”

Shane shifted in his chair and turned his focus back to the ocean, now sparkling under a rising moon, remembering the first time he’d stepped inside the condo. He’d still been so young, the band was just taking off, and he had a massive royalty check burning a hole in his pocket. He thought buying a condo on a private beach in Malibu, rubbing shoulders with all kinds of celebrities, had meant he’d arrived.

“To be fair,” Shane continued. “I didn’t think I would like the interior all that much when I bought the place either. I bought it furnished, but I never had the time or inclination to redecorate. Or even hire someone to do it. My focus was always on the music and the band. But then, after a couple of years of touring for months on end, I started looking forward to coming home. I found it relaxing in a way I didn’t expect.” He lifted his beer to take a swig and found it empty. “Nothing here demands my attention.”

Wes didn’t say anything, and Shane cursed himself for sharing even that little bit. A memory twelve years gone resurfaced. To another time when he’d shared his crush on ranch hand Hugh, and Hugh had thrown it back in his face. He should have known better. Now Wes would show his true cowboy colors and mock him.

“I could almost see myself here,” Wes said after a long uncomfortable minute, and there was a reverence in his voice that Shane wanted to believe was genuine.

Shane studied him in the moonlight, but nothing in Wes’s voice or expression said he was anything but. A tendril of guilt drifted through his chest at thinking Wes could be the same as those from his past, the same as Hugh, when so far, the only comparison was superficial .

He looked away and fidgeted with the label on his bottle. “Almost?”

“I miss the trees and clean air. The quiet. The horses. And my brother’s boyfriend’s goofy dogs.”

“Your brother is gay?”

Wes grinned and turned to face him. “Fishing again?”

“I already figured it out,” Shane teased. “Remember? You want me.”

Shane meant it as a joke, but Wes’s expression turned serious. Thoughtful. Wes stared into his eyes and Shane—the real Shane—felt seen. Wanted. Not because he was famous or because he was rich, but because he was simply Shane. His gaze dropped to Wes’s mouth and his provocative lips, and an overwhelming urge to kiss him had Shane leaning over.

Wes stood abruptly.

“We should call it a night.” His voice sounded tight and a little gruff. “Six in the morning comes around fast.”

Disappointment doused Shane’s desire. “Right.”

Tomorrow, the Audio Siren tour resumed with three shows in California, ending with a big post-show party for fans and friends after the last show, before heading up the coast to Washington, Idaho, and onward.

Shane had never been so happy to be back on the road as he was after spending four days alone in his condo with Wes Stonebraker.

The more time he spent with Wes, the more he liked him. No, he’d blown past like. He wanted Wes. It didn’t seem to matter as much anymore that Wes was a cowboy longing for the quiet ranch life. That their lives were as opposite as they could be. Or that anything between them could go a thousand kinds of wrong. Everything was better with Wes around. He felt better with Wes around.

Wes had been quiet since they’d returned to the road. A little more standoffish. And while Shane understood he was only doing his job, ensuring Shane’s safety, it still bothered him. He missed the easy companionship that had been growing between them in Malibu. Mourned the almost kiss on the patio their last night there.

“Get over it,” he admonished himself.

Nothing was going to happen between them. Not now, not ever.

Shane shook thoughts of Wes from his head as he stepped out of the shower. There were better things to think about. Like how amazing the crowd in Spokane had been last night. How every song he sang echoed back to him, carried on eighteen-thousand voices, and sent goose bumps cascading over his skin. The only thing he needed to keep his focus on. That was the thrill he lived for, and the energy that fed him.

His stomach growled at the thought of feeding. Hopefully, Wes already had breakfast brought in for them. Personally ordered, picked up, and delivered by one of Isaac’s team since Wes didn’t trust the safety of anything from room service after the roofie incident. Shane didn’t either. He still hesitated for a split second every time he was about to take a drink or a bite.

Dressed in snug-fitting black jeans and a collared black shirt with pearl buttons, he stepped out of his hotel suite bedroom just as three beeps in quick succession signaled someone had entered a keycard into the door of the main room. A split second later, the door flew open with so much force it banged against the metal spring stopper with an echoing boinggg .

Wes, who had been sitting at the table engrossed in his laptop screen, launched to his feet as he reached for a gun that was always in his shoulder holster when they were Stateside.

Sonia stormed in like a tornado before Wes got two feet from the table. She stopped in the middle of the room and glared at Wes before looking pointedly at his gun. He put it back in its holster but remained standing.

“What the hell, Sonia?” Shane pressed a hand on his chest, as if that would keep his pounding heart on the right side of his ribcage. “Way to make an entrance.”

She swung her laser beam glare at him as she crossed the room and dropped her tablet onto the table with shocking disregard. She usually treated that thing as a precious commodity, so whatever had upset her was serious .

“I had nothing to do with this,” she fumed as she pointed at the tablet. “I didn’t think the label would stoop so low. Though I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Dread slid through Shane. He dragged his eyes from Sonia and stared at the tablet as though it had come to life—a coiled snake ready to strike. He tensed when Wes reached out and grabbed it, his eyes sliding back and forth as he scanned the article. Wes put the tablet back onto the table with a curse.

“I’m afraid to ask.” Shane didn’t want to know. Couldn’t he be like an ostrich and bury his head in the sand?

“The label,” Sonia growled, the sound at odds with her pixie appearance. “In all their single-minded infinite wisdom, created a scandal to stir up excitement and boost dynamic ticket sales for your Midwest string of concerts.”

“What did they do?” Shane demanded as anger churned in his guts. He hated when publicity stunts came from the top down. It almost always meant they’d concocted some sort of ridiculous scandal that Shane had no say in—and was patently untrue. They knew if they brought their ideas to him beforehand, he’d refuse, but finding out after the fact . . .? He’d have no choice but to buckle in and ride it out.

Shane dragged the tablet across the table with his forefinger and stared down at an image that made his skin crawl. He was out. Loud and proud. Had been from the start, so there couldn’t be any scandals about him being gay—not that someone’s inherent sexuality should ever be a cause for scandal. But the photo staring back at him . . . There was no way in hell he’d have agreed to it.

“What the fuck did they do?” Shane snarled.

He remembered the incident, but hadn’t realized someone had taken a photo of the moment. And worse, got it to his label’s management. No doubt for a nice little chunk of change.

It happened after their last show in California a few days back, at the after-show party for co-workers, friends, and significant others. Sonia’s boyfriend had been there as well as two of Sonia’s girlfriends. Jamie’s wife Rosie was there, as well as Wish’s girlfriend Danielle. River’s brother and a couple more of his friends, and Daryl’s groupie du jour.

And Shane’s ex-boyfriend, Alex .

They’d had a torrid affair and an ugly high-profile breakup, so of course the label would exploit that to drive ticket sales.

He didn’t know how Alex had gotten in because he was on Isaac’s backstage “no fly” list. But he’d found his way in and was clearly three sheets to the wind. One minute Shane had been laughing at a joke Rosie had cracked, and the next his arms were full of a writhing, amorous ex-boyfriend who’d reeked like a distillery. Alex had managed to plant a sloppy kiss on his lips before Wes intervened. Shane would swear to his dying day that he saw green fire in Wes’s blue eyes when he’d pulled Alex away none-too-gently and shoved him toward two of Isaac’s security team, who had dragged a blabbering Alex outside.

But someone had caught that moment on camera—the photo now spread across the full width of the music news website. Below the photo, the caption read: ARE SHALEX BACK TOGETHER AGAIN?

As far as scandals went, Shalex was pedestrian, but fuck .

“This is bullshit,” he snapped, shoving the tablet away.

“Agreed,” Sonia said with a vehemence that warmed his heart. She’d hated Alex from the start and made no effort to keep her thoughts to herself. She’d told him repeatedly that Alex was a gold digger. “We all know there’s no way in hell you’d be caught dead with that prick again.”

If Wes hadn’t been there to get Alex off him, Sonia would have gone after him like a tiny but vicious piranha.

“Get Jonas on the phone,” Shane said to Sonia. He ran a hand through his hair.

“Is this common practice?” Wes asked as he sat back down and started typing on his laptop.

“Yes, and no.” Shane dropped to the chair across the table from Wes with an exaggerated huff. “Usually when management wants to create a stir and drive sales up, everybody is involved and has agreed to what that will be. But sometimes, like this time, they don’t give anybody fair warning because they know damn well I wouldn’t have agreed.”

There was a knock at the door, but neither Shane nor Wes made a move to get up.

“I’ll get it,” Sonia groused with a roll of her eyes .

Jonas strolled through the door wearing a grim expression on his face, like he knew what he was walking into. Shane shot to his feet.

“What the fuck, Jonas?” Shane barked as anger flared under his skin. “You couldn’t even give me a heads-up. Had to blindside me with this bullshit?”

“This came directly from the label’s management.” Jonas raised his hands. “They didn’t consult me either. I only just found out about it this morning.”

“And when did you plan on telling me?” Shane shoved his hands into his hair, pushing his bangs out of his eyes.

“Believe it or not,” Jonas said, “I was already on my way up here to tell you. Anyway, what’s the big deal? It’s not like this is the first time. You’ll be fine.”

“The big deal,” Wes spoke. The deep rumble of his voice held a threatening edge that had Shane grateful it wasn’t aimed at him. “Is that Shane has a stalker this time, and their behavior is escalating. An image like this could set them off. Which, sure, might increase your ticket sales, but it also puts Shane in greater danger.”

Jonas looked at all three of them, his mouth pressed into a flat line. He pulled his phone from the pocket of his red-trimmed white suit. His voice was grim but determined when he said, “I’ll have Isaac bring in more event security.”

“And I want someone on Shane’s door twenty-four-seven,” Wes added. “Every city, whether he’s in the room or not. No one goes in unless I give the okay. Not even housekeeping. Or you, Sonia.”

Jonas nodded. He turned away as he spoke with Isaac, but Sonia . . . If looks could kill. Shane was glad not to be the recipient of the glare she sent Wes.

“I’m not his fucking stalker,” she snarled at him.

Unfazed, Wes repeated, “No one.”

“Fine.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

Shane had to sit back down. He hadn’t even had breakfast yet, and the day’s emotional gauntlet had already exhausted him. “Do you really think it’s that serious?”

“For one thing,” Wes began, “I wouldn’t be here in the first place if it wasn’t, and for another, unfortunately, we can’t predict one way or the other how this is going to affect your stalker. People like this don’t react like the average person. So, our best course right now is to take every precaution to ensure your safety.”

A notification pinged on Wes’s laptop. He glanced at the screen and frowned. He typed a few keys and read something that made his jaw clench and his eyebrows furrow.

He looked up at Shane with concern in his eyes. The sharp edge in Wes’s voice sent a chill down Shane’s spine when Wes said, “And now your stalker knows, too.”

Fear stole the breath from Shane’s lungs, and ice froze the blood in his veins. He couldn’t ask for details. Didn’t want to know. Could live quite happily in ignorant bliss. But then he would give someone else power over him—something he’d vowed long ago would never happen again. He rolled his shoulders back.

“Wh-what did they say?”

“It’s a veiled threat.” Wes studied him for a second. His tone solemn when he read aloud, “‘ Why did you let that man kiss you? I told you I’m the only one who can touch you. Now I must teach you a lesson. What happens next is your fault .’”

Wes lifted his gaze and locked on Shane, but Shane could only stare back, unable to form words.

Gum. He needed gum.

“I think next time there’s a box sitting in front of your door.” Wes slid a packet of Juicy Fruit across the table. “It won’t be just a teddy bear.”