“I did,” he says. “I know that transition was bothering you. The show was epic, man. A great start.”

“I thought so, too.” Dean runs his hand through his hair and gives Latson a resigned smile. “It felt like Vegas. Remember?”

Latson’s eyes go blank for a second. If I didn’t know him so well I wouldn’t have noticed. He quickly adjusts his features and nods. “Yeah. I remember.”

The elevator stops and we exit. I let Dean get a few steps ahead of us before I ask Latson, “What happened in Vegas?”

“We opened our first tour there. It was Sacred Sin’s first concert as a headliner.”

Mentally, I frown. I understand why Dean would compare his first concert with the Union to his first with Sin, but didn’t he realize it would bother Latson?  I try to lighten things up. “I bet it was a rush,” I say and then pull on Latson’s hand. He leans over. “But nothing compared to tonight,” I whisper. “Hands down, Vegas blows L.A. out of the water.”

He kisses me.

When we arrive at the suite, Roxanne, Drew, and Paul are already congregated by a small bar just off the entrance. The room is filled with people I don’t know, some of whom are already seated outside on the suite’s private balcony. The place resembles a tiny apartment, with a bathroom, the wet bar, and a bunch of overstuffed furniture. A flat screen mounted from the ceiling in one corner broadcasts the empty stage below, and a variety of hors d’oeuvres are set out on a small dining table.

“There they are!” Paul gets loud. “Get your asses over here and do a shot with us.” He hands Dean a glass filled with amber liquid, then me, and then Latson. “Gunnar!  How in the hell are ya?” Paul thumps Latson on the back. Then, he holds up his glass and we all follow suit. “To the Renegade tour!  May the groupies be hot, Betty be swift, and the music rock!”

“Hear!  Hear!”  Glasses clink together.

I sniff my shot before I send it down my throat. It smells like whiskey; I bet it’s a Three Wise Men. I toss it back and grimace. Yep. I was right.

I hand my glass back to the bartender. “Who’s Betty?” I ask no one in particular.

“The tour bus.” Latson stares at his empty glass. “We always named them Betty.”

Jesus. Couldn’t they have come up with another name?

“Let’s go get seats,” I suggest and pull on his arm. “I’d rather sit out on the balcony than in here.”

“Gunnar?  Is that you?”

A man dressed in a button down and jeans approaches. His dirty blonde hair is styled, and he flashes a perfect white smile.

“Caleb,” Latson says. I can sense the irritation in his tone, and, judging by the size of the Rolex on Caleb’s wrist, I assume he’s with the record label.

“Holy shit.” The man shakes his head in disbelief. “Where have you been?”

“Oh, you know. Here and there.”

“I thought you fell off the face of the earth.”

“Nah,” Latson gets sarcastic. “I just disappeared from music.”

Caleb’s smile disappears. “You know my hands were tied.”

“Yep. That’s what you said two years ago.” Latson sets his shot glass down on the bar and pushes it forward with two fingers. “It’s good to know you’re sticking with the same story.”

The record exec looks uncomfortable as Latson turns to me. “Let’s find those seats you wanted.” He sets his hand against my back and starts to usher me toward the balcony.

“Jen Elliott, right?”

I give Caleb a questioning look. “Yes?”

“I caught your set. Dean was smart to bring you aboard. I look forward to working with you.”

I cross my arms. “And you are?”

“Oh, forgive me.” He plasters on a smile and extends his hand. “Caleb Jackson. I work for Snare Records.”

I shake his hand to be polite. “I thought Dean hadn’t signed with a label.”

“He hasn’t. Not yet. But we’re interested. If the tour goes well, I think we can offer him a pretty sweet deal.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” I say. “I’m just here to play.”

Caleb tilts his head toward me. “I like your attitude.”

Latson presses his hand firmly against my back to get me moving and I nod goodbye to Caleb. As we walk toward the sliding doors that lead to the seating, Latson says, “If Dean signs with that asshole I’ll kill him.”

I glance back at Caleb who’s now talking with Roxanne. “Why?”

Latson’s hard eyes meet mine. “Caleb is Levi’s brother.”

Chapter Twenty One

Lying on my side, I prop my head against my hand and stare at Latson. He’s sleeping on his back with the starchy white hotel sheets pushed to his waist. My eyes roam upward, over his bare chest, his face, and his arm that’s slung over his head against the pillow. He looks peaceful and content, a far cry from what he was last night. I thought after we left the concert and got away from the record people he would relax. He didn’t. He seemed just as stressed during Ariel’s after party.

I wanted to talk about what was bothering him, but the Ritz wasn’t the place. The atmosphere was too loud and too busy; there were people everywhere. Dancers, friends, band members, crew, roadies, and, of course, Heidi. Avoiding her death stare was impossible whenever she was in the same room. When we left the party and got back to my hotel, I could tell how tense Latson was by the way he kissed me and the way his hands roamed my skin. He was rough and demanding, which I didn’t mind because I’ve missed him and I wanted him as much as he wanted me. As time passed, the more tender he became. Before we fell asleep he was back to the sweet, teasing, unhurried Latson I remember.

Without warning, his eyes open and he blinks a few times. “Hey.” He starts to smile but ends up covering a yawn. “I felt you staring.”

“You did?  How?”

“It’s a side effect of living with a kid.” He reaches for me and I slide over, winding myself around his body. “If I’m asleep and Oliver’s awake, he’ll stare at me until I wake up, too. It’s like a sixth sense.”

I remember staring at my sleeping parents when I was young, especially around the holidays. “I used to do that. My brothers would always send me into our parent’s bedroom because I was the youngest. I finally put a stop to it when I was twelve. I mean, Pete was eighteen for crying out loud.”

Latson laughs.

“What’s so funny?”

“I can imagine your little determined face.”

“Well …”  I drift off. “My brothers had to grow up sometime. I know they were excited about Christmas morning, but come on.”

Latson squeezes me in a one-armed hug. “I started to get excited about Christmas again after my sister died. I wanted to make the first one special for O. Now, I get just as excited as he does. There’s something to be said for playing the man in red.”

I never thought about it that way before. I’ve never been around a kid to surprise on Christmas, and my eyes light up. “Can I help this year?  I can be an elf.”

He scrutinizes me. “Hmmm. You’re a little tall and your ears aren’t very pointy. I guess it depends on how you look in green tights.”

I shove his chest. “You know I can totally rock green tights.”

He smiles and leans down to kiss me. “I’m sure you can.”

When he settles back against the pillow, I snuggle closer to his side. “I’m glad you’re in a better mood. I don’t like it when you’re grumpy.”

He exhales with a heavy sigh. “I didn’t want to see any of those people last night. I only wanted to spend time with you.”

My face falls. I should have realized the environment would be difficult for him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dragged you where you didn’t want to go.”

He runs the tips of his fingers up and down my back. “Don’t apologize. I shouldn’t have let things get to me. Last night was your night.”

I give him a tiny smile, and he pushes my hair behind my ear. “So. You’ve been christened. First show, first suite, first after party. You’re officially a rock star.”

I laugh. I’m not, but I felt like one. “You were right. Nothing compares to performing. I’m glad you talked me into it.”