The Opposite Of Right (Bad Decisions Trilogy #1) (5 page)

“I think I like it.” Jake pushed back, raised a hand as if to point at her accusingly, and then folded the finger back into a fist that he beat against his thigh. “I don’t love it yet, damn it. I’m also not loving that it took you less than a handful of miles to pinpoint what’s been nagging at me for days.” He held out his hand. “Welcome to Riptide, Kylie.”

Wow. Later—probably when she Facetimed with Amanda—she’d think about how those were the fingers that played a keyboard so beautifully. Part of her didn’t feel worthy. But if Kylie did a fangirl swoon every time one of them opened their mouths, she’d humiliate herself before they got to the Wisconsin border.

So. From now on, she vowed to herself, they were just men. All ridiculously hot men, but simply men who worked for the same company she did. Co-workers. Kylie wiped her hands on her yellow shorts. “Thanks.” They shook. More carefully than usual on her part. After all, you wouldn’t try to crack Michelangelo’s knuckles. Or step on Fred Astaire’s tootsies.

Cam asked, “How is it you understand music so well?”

She sat back down—actually leaning all the way back this time. “I’ve got a degree in understanding it. I majored in ethnomusicology.”

Hilariously, the men looked from one to another like they were tracking a bouncing ping-pong ball instead of her simple statement. Jones finally threw his hands in the air. “What the hell does that mean?”

Kylie was well versed in fielding that question. Most people had a better understanding of the various departments at Hogwarts than her chosen major. “It’s the study of music, what it means to both performers and audiences. Learning its cultural context. Researching and sharing traditions. Examining music and its ties to geography, politics, gender roles, psychology and sociology. Basically hashing out all the reasons why music is so important all over the world.”

“That’s a thing?” Jones looked incredulous. “A real thing?”

“Want me to show you my graduation tassel?” she teased. “It’s the best I can do—Northwestern won’t send me my actual diploma for a couple of months.”

“Hell.” Cam’s laughter rolled out, low and infectious. Plus, it gave her an excuse to look over at him. No, to gulp down a glimpse of him as fast as she could throw back a tequila shot. Because nothing she did, no overly long looks or unwarranted smiles, could give the guys any reason to think she’d slept with Cam. That had to stay a secret. “They should require that degree for every music critic.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t plan on becoming a critic. I’m too soft-hearted. I could tell someone to their face that they suck, but not tell the whole world. That’s just mean. And it’s subjective.”

Jake snicked the laptop shut. Turned those famously blue eyes on her like a laser sight. “Why spend a month on our tour bus? Doesn’t your fancy new degree open doors for you that don’t smell of exhaust?”

“Yes. And no.” This was turning into an interrogation. Kylie glanced out the window at the rows of bumper-to-bumper cars, bracketed by flat fields. She saw no possible hope of escape.

“Come on,” Cam coaxed. When his voice went all soft and buttery like that, Kylie would do anything he asked. God, if he continued to use that tone, she’d start a striptease right here and now. No wonder his voice drove millions of women into a wild frenzy. It should be registered as a dangerous weapon. “I’ll bet you know my life story. Turnabout’s fair play. Quick—what group inspired me to start Riptide?”

“U2,” Kylie blurted out. And instantly regretted it. Googly-eyed fans who thought reading magazine articles gave them insight into celebrities must drive these guys nuts. Cyberstalking wasn’t nearly the same as actually interacting with people. She didn’t want to be dismissed as just another groupie.

A smug-ass smile was her reward. “Ha. See? You’ve read up on us. You know our secrets. Only fair that we learn something about you.”

Cam was right. If she didn’t want to be a grasping groupie, if she wanted to be treated as a legitmate contributor to the band, she had to pony up some information. “I had an internship lined up with the Smithsonian.”

A low whistle split through the background rumble of the engine. “You’re sounding fancier and fancier.” Cam tugged on his plain white T-shirt. “Feels like I should change into a suit and tie to talk to you.”

Jones rolled his neck in an exaggerated circle. “Oh, hell no. Don’t tell me you brought a suit on this tour. No wonder we don’t have room in the baggage hold for those Goose Island growlers. They’re sitting on top of my bunk right now. Can’t sleep until we drink at least two of them.”

“Simmer down. The only suit I brought is the kind you wear in a hot tub.”

“And we’ve got three empty bunks,” Jake pointed out. “Don’t pull that
we have to drink all the beer so I can sleep
crap. I’m not falling for it. Not again.”

Jones folded his arms in a huff. Jake glared. Kylie bit back a grin. These guys were fun. She definitely wouldn’t be bored for the next month. To dissipate the tension, she plunged ahead with the rest of her pitiful tale.

“I would’ve worked with the Smithsonian Folkways Recordings.” Not in the way she wanted to, ultimately, but it had at least been a step that her parents had approved of enough to pay for her room and board in DC. “I was supposed to start in a week. But the woman heading up the internship had some sort of pregnancy complication and is out on bed rest for the next four months.” Which was scary and awful for her. Kylie sent her a get-well card. But it didn’t change the facts.

Cam’s mouth twisted downward. “That kiboshed your whole deal? Nobody else there can work with you?”

It was the same question Kylie had asked, no,
yelled
over and over again. “Guess not.”

“That’s bullshit.”

Like he’d plucked the words straight out of her brain. “I kind of agree. I mean, I guess I understand. I’m sure everyone is busy covering the rest of her workload. Adding an untrained newbie to that list is probably asking too much.”

Jake puffed air into his cheeks. “You
are
a soft touch.”

“I’ve had a couple of days to get used to the idea. Besides, bitching about it won’t get me the internship back—or the contacts I would’ve made there that could have led to a real job.” No matter how business-oriented she tried to be, to accept this change as unavoidable, Kylie was still bitter. She just hoped that tamping it down and ignoring it would make the bitterness evaporate. Walking around all unhappy couldn’t be good. People lost jobs. Missed opportunities. Pouting about it wouldn’t fix it.

“So you’re a Riptide fan and fully trained in appreciating music. I can’t think of a better place for you to get over that setback than right here.” Cam patted the cushion next to him.

It was all Kylie could do not to leap across the aisle and cuddle up on the spot he indicated. But that would be wrong. Wrong for now, anyway. “Lots of people move back home while they figure out their next steps after graduation. Instead, I moved onto the tour bus of an iconic rock band. I think I came out all right.”

That was when she let slip one big smile. One absolutely gratitude-filled, teeth-to-tonsils smile. Jake and Jones could assume it was thankfulness for being their new goody girl. But maybe, just maybe, Cam would realize it was all for him. In anticipation of the next time she could convince him to be wrong with her.

CHAPTER FOUR

Cam rubbed a hand across the back of his neck as he climbed the steps of the bus. Tonight went well. The Turner Hall Ballroom had been SRO. Yeah, it was smaller than the stadiums they used to play. But after the debacle of their last tour, it felt good to see a packed house, no matter how big. More important, the audience seemed to dig their new music. Riptide gave two encores. The fans still barely let them off the stage even after that.

So he should feel good. But there was another concert in Milwaukee tomorrow night, and a whole string of them after that. He couldn’t relax, couldn’t accept that they’d turned themselves back around. Not yet.

The party lights along the ceiling were on, but nothing else. He’d hung with the guys in the other bus for a while. Kylie must’ve come back here after closing up shop at the ballroom and gone to bed.

Cam paused in front of the closed curtains to her bunk. He didn’t want to spook her. Or wake her up. But since they were the only two people sharing this big metal tube, he should let her know he was here. Had nothing to do with wanting to look at her, all sleep tousled and gorgeous. Because that would be wrong.

He put his hand on the thick gray drape. Slid his fingers in the gap. Debated about just clearing his throat and waving. You couldn’t knock on a bunk. Suddenly, there was a massive rustling. A thud against the wall. A foot kicked at the drape and almost nailed him in the stomach. Cam jumped back. Well, the whole two feet before his back came up against the bunks on the opposite side.

“Kylie? It’s just me. Wanted to let you know I’m in for the night.”

Long red hair poked through the curtain first. Her orange-tipped fingers clutched the drape tight below her neck. Then she tilted her head up to stare at him with those eyes the same color as expensive, aged bourbon. Every damn time Cam saw them, it made him think about drizzling bourbon down her body and licking it off. Slowly. Drip by drip. Watching drops hang off the tip of her nipple.

“Um, hi, Cam.” Another convulsive twitch of the drapes. “Thanks for letting me know.”

He held out his hands, palms up, in a mea culpa. “Sorry if I scared you.”

“No.” She shook her head, red strands sticking to the drapes from static like a felt-art project. “I mean, you didn’t scare me. I heard the door hydraulics when you came in.”

Now he had a mystery to solve. What had set Kylie off? Finally. A chance to learn something about her without his bandmates breathing down his neck. Cam pushed off the wall. Lazily lifted her hair down off the drape, lock by silken lock. “Sure sounded from out here like you freaked a little.”

“Oh. Well. I saw your fingers. So I thought you were about to open the curtain.”

“I was. Just to say good night. What’s the big deal?” He pointed at the ceiling, where a small plasma screen could fold down. “If you’re watching porn in there, God knows it won’t be the first time it’s happened.”

“No.” Another violent shake of her head. “No porn.”

“Not ever?” Cam tugged on her hair. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”

With one violent swipe, she parted the curtains. Kylie was propped up on an elbow, the sheet tucked in tight around her. Really tight. “The thing is, I’m, uh, naked. That’s the big deal.”

If only that were the case. Kylie Stafford naked and waiting for him would be the perfect end to a pretty damn good night. Instead, Cam flicked the gray satin covering her neck to toes. “You’re deeper under that sheet than a worm at the bottom of a tequila bottle.”

“Yes, well, I
was
naked when you came in. On top of all the covers, naked. Just lying here naked, staring out at the stars. Naked.”

It cracked him up how much she repeated the word
naked
. Was it to shock him? Or to thrill herself with the shock of it? “You know, we’ve got temperature controls in every bunk.” He reached in to point at the control screen. “I know it’s summer in the Midwest, but you don’t have to lie around naked. Just turn up the AC.”

“I
wanted
to be naked.”

Good instincts. But the time and the place were all wrong. “Without even a solid door between you and the possibility of up to five men coming by at any minute? Why?”

“Because it’s wrong. Naughty. Bad.” Her lips curled into a sultry grin. “Soooo not right.”

Now he got it. Cam shoved at the other side of the curtain, so he could see all of her stretched out beneath the thin sheet. “This is more of your whole doing whatever’s wrong kick?”

Kylie rolled forward onto both elbows. It gapped the sheet at her cleavage. Not that Cam intended to tell her. “Not quite. I don’t just randomly choose to do whatever’s wrong. I have no plans to hold up a liquor store. Nor do I intend to stop washing my hands in the bathroom.”

He drew the back of his hand across his forehead. “That’s a relief. We may be a bunch of guys, but we’ve got standards. It’s really easy to catch a cold on the road, with all the fan interaction.”

Kylie’s nose crinkled at the bridge. “I noticed the Purell dispensers on just about every flat surface.”

Cam felt no shame. If he lost his voice on a performance night, he was far from the only person who felt lousy. “What kinds of wrong things do you want to do, then?”

“This hypothesis still needs some refining. But the gist of it is that I’ve made good decisions my whole life. Or rather, I’ve let other people make good decisions for me. All I had to do was follow through. And I did. No questions asked, little resistance. I followed this perfect path that was laid out for me.”

To his way of thinking, that wasn’t just a stretch. It was a Grand Canyon-sized leap. Not that Cam pretended to understand most of what went on in a woman’s mind. Still, he had to ask, “You’re blaming losing an internship due to some lady’s complicated pregnancy on your taking some good advice?”