Much like my song.
Drawing in a deep, cleansing breath, I turn on my heels.
I inwardly flinch when he starts singing “Voodoo” by Godsmack.
I try to ignore the ache ballooning inside my chest as memories slam into me, but I can’t.
Once upon a time, Phoenix Walker made me believe I was special.
Then he destroyed me.
I won’t give him the opportunity to do it again.
“So…” Skylar begins as she scans my hotel room over the rim of her coffee cup. “Are you going to tell me why I had to uncuff you from your bed in the wee hours of the morning?”
I should have known there’d be a catch when she knocked on my hotel room door with coffee and pastries.
Fueling up for tonight’s show, my ass.
I eye the pattern on the comforter. “Weird. I have no recollection of that happening. Are you sure it wasn’t a dream?”
Those bright eyes sharpen. “I like you, Lennon, but you’re making my job harder. Start talking.”
Keeping my expression impassive, I shrug. “I told you. I had company.”
After placing her half-eaten danish and coffee cup on the nightstand, she stands. “Yeah, but you didn’t tell me who the company was.”
Jesus. I’m convinced she’s part bloodhound.
I casually study my nails. “You’re the publicist. Anything I say can be used against me in the court of public opinion.”
Assessing me, she taps her chin. “So, it was one of the guys in the band.”
Dammit. Not only is she drop-dead gorgeous…she’s awfully perceptive.
Seemingly determined to get to the bottom of this, she starts pacing the carpet in front of me.
“Let’s see. Handcuffs are definitely Storm’s thing, but he left with the redhead last night and you don’t seem like the type to have a threesome.”
I wisely keep my mouth shut.
Her pouty lips press together. “George would be the obvious choice…” There’s a long pause, and she bites her cheek like she’s trying not to laugh. “But he doesn’t have a kinky bone in his body.”
No argument here.
She stops pacing. “That leaves Phoenix.”
“You’re forgetting Memphis,” I point out.
Something I can’t quite ascertain flashes in her eyes briefly before she gives me a feeble smile. “You’re too smart to be baby mama number three.”
Grabbing her purse off the bed, she hustles to the door.
It appears my buttons weren’t the only ones pushed during this little exchange.
“Skylar?”
She turns around. “Yeah?”
She strikes me as someone who doesn’t appreciate people beating around the bush, so I cut to the chase.
“Is there something going on with you and Memphis?”
I get why she wouldn’t be an open book about it given he’s Josh’s brother. However, I’m not the type to throw stones.
Skylar can trust me.
She raises one perfectly tweezed eyebrow. “Is there something going on with you and Phoenix?”
Checkmate.
Neither of us says a word as we stare at one another.
Fortunately, the sound of my phone ringing comes to the rescue.
I smile as I see Mrs. Palma’s name flash across the screen. “I gotta take this. It’s my dad.”
The sound of my ringtone blaring wakes me out of a dead sleep. Groggy, I quickly rummage around the bed for my cell.
Everything was fine—well, as fine as it could be, considering my dad thought I was trying to sell him life insurance—when I spoke to him earlier today.
I’m relieved when I see George’s name on the screen.
After pressing the green button, I bring it to my ear. “Hello?”
“Do you want to hang out?”
I glance at the clock on the nightstand. It’s a little after two a.m.
Granted, that’s relatively early for a rock star and all, but I’m already in my pajamas and in bed.
“It’s the middle of the night.” Skylar’s remark from earlier flits through my head. “Are you booty calling me?”
Perhaps he’s not that vanilla after all.
“What? No?”
The spark of intrigue I had pops like a bubble.
“I mean…maybe,” he quickly rattles off. “Would you say yes?”
The guy really needs to work on his confidence.
I’m conjuring up excuses in my mind when a loud thump on the other side of the wall snags my attention.
Dammit, Phoenix.
“Seriously? He’s freaking handcuffed.”