Rock Chick Reckoning
Page 50

My head jerked a bit to the side and I felt a mini-gut kick at his words and the harsh undercurrent with which he said them.
I wondered what he meant but I didn’t ask because I was tel ing myself I didn’t want to know (when, in reality, I did).
Do you see how messed up my head was?
“Stel a, tel me you got me,” Mace pressed.
“I got you,” I muttered, giving in so I could feed my dog and because I didn’t want that in Mace’s life either (and, unfortunately for Juno, not in that order).
It seemed my luck was going to be even shittier than normal that morning because we weren’t done.
Mace got closer and shifted. He did this so his back was to Hector and I was hidden from him. Mace put his hand to my neck and dipped his face toward mine.
His eyes were back to guarded but they were stil warm when they looked deep into mine.
“We good?” he asked softly.
I didn’t know if he was asking if we were good about what happened onstage last night. Or if we were good about what happened with Eric. Or if we were good about the interrupted bed action that morning. Or if we were good about the crazy-scary shit that happened in the kitchen five minutes ago.
Since the answer was the same for al of them, I said,
“No.”
This made him smile.
Which made my toes curl.
He bent in, touched his lips to mine, giving me a neck squeeze at the same time. Then, lips stil on mine, he promised, “We wil be.”
That gave the toe curl the addition of a ful body tremble.
He gave me another neck squeeze then walked away and I stood motionless in the kitchen watching him move toward one of his bags. For some reason, my skin started to feel hot so my eyes shifted toward Hector who was standing, arms crossed on his chest, gaze on me, mouth curled in a sexy grin.
Sheesh.
I came unstuck and did the only thing I could do (legal y) at that moment.
I got down to the business of feeding my dog.
Mace was sitting on the edge of the bed platform tugging on his boots when the buzzer went.
“Jesus Christ,” Mace muttered and Hector moved toward the panel.
I bent to put the bowl of food on the floor and Juno shoved her face in it before it was settled. I was rubbing down her body when I heard the disembodied voice of Hugo in the room.
“We gotta know a secret password or what?”
“It’s the band,” Hector told Mace (I wil note he told Mace, not me).
“Let them in,” I said.
“I’l talk to them,” Mace said at the same time, getting up and walking toward the door.
Erm, what?
Now wait just one effing minute.
“You can just let them in,” I told Mace as I fol owed him.
“Stay here with Stel a. I’l be back with the band.” Mace ignored me and spoke to Hector.
“Mace!” I snapped. “Just let them in.”
Mace turned to face me. “We’l be right up.” My eyes narrowed on him.
“What’s going on?”
“I just want to get a few things straight with the band.” I did not think so.
“About what?” I pushed.
“About ‘no comment’.”
Oh.
Okay.
I could see that.
Mace and I both knew everyone, including the grieving Buzz, would be happily loose-lipped with reporters unless warned. Especial y if they thought they could get The Blue Moon Gypsies and any of our gig dates in print.
“You can talk to them up here,” I told him.
“I’m talkin’ to them downstairs.”
“Mace.”
“Stel a.”
“Jesus, is someone gonna let us in or what?” Pong’s disembodied voice didn’t come through the panel, we could hear him shouting from outside.
“Two seconds,” Hector said into the speaker and before I could say another word, Mace was gone.
I looked at the door then at Hector and remarked angrily,
“He’s annoying.”
“He’s probably got his reasons,” Hector replied.
“And I should care about those reasons because…” I prompted.
Hector didn’t hesitate. “You don’t have to care about
‘em, you just gotta understand he has ‘em.” I glared at Hector for a beat.
Whatever.
It was then I realized I was alone with Hector and it was then I remembered to feel uncomfortable.
I stared at him.
He grinned at me.
Al of a sudden I didn’t know what to do or say. Al I could think about was Mace tel ing me that in twenty-four hours, Hector would have me flat on my back, him on top and both of us would be naked.
And this didn’t seem like a bad idea.
Oh my God, you are SUCH a slut, my brain remarked.
This was al communicated to Hector on some Hot Guy Secret Wavelength and his grin turned to a wolfish but highly effective smile.
Effing hel .
Thankful y, he threw me a bone.
“You were makin’ coffee?” he reminded me.
“Oh yeah, right,” I muttered and then scooted into the kitchen.
I grabbed the pot, fil ed it with water and turned to the coffeemaker while Hector joined me in the kitchen. I would have preferred him to stay further away (say, Alaska) but I didn’t have a choice and I didn’t want to ask him because he’d think I was a slutty wuss.
I poured the water into the coffeemaker and tucked some hair behind my ear.
“So…” I searched desperately for conversation, wondering how long it would take to tel the band they had two words they could say to reporters and other than that they had to keep their mouths shut and I figured, with my band, it would take approximately eighty-two hours.
I was going to have to make a lot of conversation.
I glanced at Hector. “Do you have a girlfriend?” Now why did I ask that?
Why, why, why?
“Nope,” Hector replied.
“No one special?” I went on.
Shut up! My brain screamed.
“Didn’t say that,” Hector answered.
Interesting. My brain was no longer screaming.
I shoved the pot under the spout, flipped the switch and looked at him ful y.
“There’s someone special?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
“But she’s not your girlfriend?”
He crossed his arms on his chest, leaned a hip against the counter and again didn’t answer.
“Who is she?”
“She’s not a Rock Chick,” he told me. “She’s rich. She’s unbelievably f**kin’ beautiful. She made the first move and then shut me down so she’s gonna have to make the second move too.”