Songbird (9 page)

Cross country running had been my escape in
high school and had paid for most of my college education in the
form of scholarships. As tall as I was it made sense that I could
use my long legs for something but no one understood my double
digit waist when I tried to explain I ran for fun. Running had
little impact on core strength. The act did help keep weight down,
but it did nothing for hereditary size.

After the four miles on the cross country
machine I felt it would be safe to go back to my hotel room. Surely
enough time had passed for seconds and thirds. In a better frame of
mind I declined the elevator and jogged up the stairs to the band
wing.

I stopped short when I saw Nicholas leaning
against my closed door with his bag over his shoulder.

“Is there something wrong with your room?” I
stopped in front of him.

Nicholas glanced over his shoulder at his
door. “No.”

I waited and when it appeared he wasn’t going
to elaborate I prodded. “Well?”

“I only fuck them, Songbird. Responsibly.
I’ve never sexed without a condom and I never will. I don’t cuddle;
I don’t sleep—at least not by the definition of the word—with them.
It’s too intimate.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “And if you
wanted some early morning loving?”

He shook his head. “Not likely at the ass
crack of dawn we have to get at. Why are you covered in… Is that
sweat?”

I sighed and opened my door. “I went for a
run.”

“Nice room.” Nicholas tossed his bag on the
floor next to the desk.

“Yes.” I grabbed some clothes out of my bag.
“Let me shower and then we’ll discuss what to do about your
guest.”

“Just let her sleep. I can sleep in
here.”

Like fucking hell he would. There was only
one king size bed in this room. While theoretically it was big
enough for two there was no way I was sharing sheets with Nicholas
Walker.

I went over possibilities in my head as I
started the shower and began to wash without waiting for it to
completely warm. Cold showers and I were acquainted and I didn’t
let it bother me.

Dammit, I had so looked forward to sleeping
in a real bed. I could sleep on the couch or go out to the bus and
sleep in my bunk. Neither choice was appealing.

“Hey, Songbird?” Nicholas knocked briefly and
pushed the door open.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Walker, I’m in the
shower.” Why hadn’t I locked the door? In case of accidents, my
mind informed. You can’t be rescued from drowning in the tub if the
door is locked. Sometimes I hated my own precautions.

“Yeah. I know.” He moved my folded, dirty
clothes from the toilet and sat down.

I closed my eyes and resisted the urge to
scream. The shower curtain was clear but frosted. He could see the
outline of me but nothing else. Still, it did not make for
comfortable showering.

My gun was under the pile of clean clothes on
the vanity. As long as he didn’t touch anything, he shouldn’t
notice the concealed weapon.

“What side of the bed did you want?”

I turned in time to see him pick something up
off my stack of clothes. My heart froze but he only picked up the
single garment. “These are nice. Do you have a bra to match too?
Girls usually do with underwear as pretty as these.”

Underwear was a weakness of mine. I wasn’t
beautiful but it helped me feel pretty and strong. However, I
wasn’t about to admit that or the fact that all my underwear were
matching sets complete with garters for under my skirts. That was
entirely too much information for him.

“I’ll check your bag while you’re dressing.
You probably don’t sleep in it. That would be uncomfortable,
especially the underwire kind.”

“You can have the bed.” Hopefully dismissing
the conversation would get him out of the bathroom so I could
finish washing.

“Where are you going to sleep?”

“On the couch.” Determined to dismiss him I
tilted my head back and began the process of washing the long
tresses.

“Wow, I didn’t realize your hair was that
long. How come you never leave it out like that? I bet it falls
gorgeously against your ass when it’s not pulled up or curled.”

“Can I please shower in peace?” I snapped.
“You should be in bed anyway. Early morning tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I remember. But you’re not in bed yet
so the point is moot. You’ll be with me tomorrow at the radio
station.” He paused and it was obvious he was watching me lather my
hair in sections. “Why don’t you cut it if it takes so much time to
wash? Probably takes forever to dry too.”

“Because I like curls, and braids, and
ponytails,” I grumbled. “Walker, please. Can you wait in the
bedroom?”

“You’ve seen me naked.”

He would have to point that out.

“If you had arrived on time for departure I
wouldn’t have had to come haul your ass out of bed.” As an
afterthought, I stressed each sound, “Literally.”

“True. What do you use on your skin? I
remember it being really soft. And you smell good all the time too.
How do you manage that?”

“Why the sudden interest in my personal
hygiene?” I asked.

“I know all the guys. Max and I go back to
preschool. Arc we met in high school and Guy is a pal from college
football days. He plays better bass than football.”

“So, this is you getting to know me?” For
some reason I found it oddly endearing he’d known his band so long
and had brought them along into the limelight. I also felt a small
amount of giddiness at the fact he didn’t want me to stay a
stranger on this tour.

“In a manner. Usually I ask about food
first.”

I laughed. “I can see how that would be
important for you. I can cook; I enjoy Italian food the most though
I do make some killer fried chicken and biscuits. I’m not big on
sweets.”

Sweets are for good girls. Girls that listen
and obey. You’re not one of those.

The memory sucked the air out of my lungs and
I braced against the wall when I swayed. The sucker punch was
unwelcome and certainly unbidden. I fought the bile down, fought to
remain in control of myself. This would not happen here or now.

“Hey,” Nicholas sounded closer and alarmed.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Probably not enough to eat and you did
that running. I’ll call room service. What do you want?”

“Chicken would be nice. Some kind of starch.
You can surprise me with the vegetable.” My voice was a little
ragged but strong enough that I didn’t think he’d be too overly
alarmed.

“Got it.” He hung my towel over the top of
the shower bar. “Don’t stay in much longer. I will haul you out if
I have to.”

I waited for him to close the door before
reaching for the water and turning it full heat. My body had gone
icy cold and I needed the warmth. Memories were only memories, I
told myself. The memory only hurts because I let it hurt me.

The lecture did little to stop the shaking
and resigned, I shut the water off and reached for the towel
Nicholas had hung over the bar. When I stepped out I choked on
laughter.

In the steam on the mirror, Nicholas had
drawn a rather terrible running slice of pizza chasing what I
assumed to be a tomato with a knife. He was so damn childish
sometimes. And other times, that was exactly what I needed.

When I stepped back into the suite I wasn’t
surprised to find a full meal laid out, including pie that Nicholas
had already half eaten. He grinned when he saw me and shrugged. I
only shook my head and sat.

“Alfredo chicken, some breadsticks, and half
a slice of chocolate silk pie.” He sounded so damned pleased with
himself.

“I don’t care for sweets, you can eat the
rest of it.”

“What kind of monster are you?” Nicholas’s
eyes widened. “Who doesn’t like sweets?”

“My hips and ass don’t. They outvote my
stomach.” I paused with a fork halfway to my mouth when I noticed
his frown. “What?”

He looked like he was about to say something
then shook his head. “No. Nothing. So which side of the bed did you
want?”

“I’m not sleeping in bed with you, Walker.
Even in the most innocent sense of the words.” I pointed my fork at
the couch. “I can sleep there or go back to the bus.”

His forehead wrinkled. “But you have a
bed.”

“And so do you.” I pointed at the wall the
banging had come from. “Over there.”

Nicholas sighed and twisted the ring on his
middle finger with his thumb. “We could have Henry show her
out.”

“After you sexed her up and left her high and
dry in a hotel suite alone? I knew you were rude to a point, but
that’s just downright nasty.”

“Sorry,” he muttered the apology to his
shoes.

I waved it off and ate some more chicken. “It
won’t happen again. I’ll make sure my room has two beds from now
on.”

“Yeah?” He perked up a little. “That would be
nice.”

“I bet.”

“Oh, I do have a question.”

“Shoot.”

He leaned forward and lowered his voice to a
surreptitious whisper, “Do all your bras and underwear match?”

I wondered briefly—if I killed him, would I
be able to get away with it?

By the end of the first week, Ezra was
probably doing a jig in Nashville. Not only had I managed to keep
Nicholas out of trouble for a seven whole days, but we were still
on schedule too. With eleven weeks left on tour, I thought Ezra’s
jubilation was a little premature.

Sure, the shows and schedule held, but the
only time I had even seen Dolls of Serenity was when they were
ushered from their bus to sound check and then back to the bus when
it was done. And the process repeated for the concert. I realized
Nicholas had a reputation but this was a little ridiculous. The
only reason I hadn’t brought it up to Ezra was because the three
girls themselves didn’t seem to mind the sheep herding.

For the last four cities, I had held my
tongue and requested a room with two beds. When Nicholas was done
with his floozy, he always came over. He also always insisted on
light conversation before lights out. I humored him simply because
it was easier to adapt than fight with him.

I caught him staring often but it wasn’t
intrusive. I knew creative souls habitually stared into the
distance so I didn’t take it personally. I ignored my reaction to
his nearness because it was suicidal otherwise.

The bus was en route to Las Angeles. The
schedule overflowed with the necessary meet and speaks from the
moment we arrived. I reviewed time constraints and Googled travel
distances to figure out how much time I could allow for Nicholas to
dawdle.

“What are you wearing to Angelina’s Garden
Lunch Party thing?”

“Huh? What?” I glanced up from my notes and
had to swallow to wet my suddenly dry throat.

Nicholas stood wearing a pair of pants he
hadn’t bothered to button and was running a towel through wet hair.
Water ran down his chest from his hair following the hard planes of
abs to be soaked up by his pants.

Why the hell didn’t he wait until tonight to
shower at the hotel? His slow, wicked grin alerted me to the fact I
had been staring too long.

I pulled off my glasses, rubbed my eyes and
refocused, “I’m sorry, Walker; I was focused on work.” I gestured
to my papers. “What did you ask me?”

His brows drew together. If he had wanted a
reaction to his male glory he’d have a long wait in hell. I was
getting kind of used to—maybe even good at—dismissing the nearly
instant lust his presence caused. I knew better than to show any
interest regardless of what I actually felt. Professionalism
demanded it.

“What are you wearing to the garden party
thing? I’m trying to decide if I should wear a tie or not. Though,
regardless it’ll probably be a not.”

Now, I had to frown, “I’m not going. You’ll
be going with one of the guys. Henry will drop you off and pick you
up. It’ll give me time to check on the stage and maybe grant you a
few extra hours away from the auditorium.” I went back to my
work.