I spend a few minutes in the bathroom and then go in search of some fresh air. We’re on the third floor, but I noticed a breeze coming through a heavily draped set of doors as, every once in a while, people disappeared behind the curtain. Finding an empty balcony, I slip outside into the clear night. From inside, the muffled sound of Christina Aguilera’s “I’m Okay” plays, and I close my eyes and quietly sing along.

Enjoying the solace, I don’t hear the door open behind me. “Your voice is beautiful.” I know that soulful sound before I even turn to take in the man it belongs to.

“Thank you.” Both of Flynn’s hands are full. His left holds a beer bottle, his right extends a martini glass in my direction.

“This one is made right.”

I furrow my brow.

“The drink,” he clarifies.

“How did you know the others weren’t made right?”

He holds my eyes for a moment, almost as if he’s searching for something, before he responds. “Your nose scrunched up each time you took a sip.” He shrugs and takes a draw on his beer, eyes watching me over the tipped-up bottle.

I squint at him and lift the drink to my lips.

“Better?” he asks.

“It is. But how did you know what I was drinking?”

“Asked the waitress who kept bringing you the wrong ones.”

“And she suddenly found the recipe to make it right when you asked?” I arch one eyebrow suspiciously. I knew that woman was doing it on purpose.

Flynn looks a bit embarrassed.

“Well, thank you for noticing and coming to my rescue. You’re quite observant.”

He chuckles. “Women tend to call me the other O word.”

My brain jumps to orgasm, even though I know it makes no sense that a woman would call him an orgasm. “What other O word is that?”

“Oblivious.” He drains half of his beer. “So what brings you out here?”

“Just needed some fresh air. You?”

He averts his eyes, looking down almost shyly. Then he shrugs, and the crooked smile that I imagine has charmed the pants off droves of women is back. “I saw you come out here.”

“Won’t your date be looking for you?”

“Didn’t bring a date. Won’t yours?”

“Dylan’s busy. Not even sure he noticed I’m gone.”

He looks at me thoughtfully for a minute, and I think he’s going to say something, but then he seems to think better of it and just nods.

“So you have some pretty legendary parents, huh?”

I quirk an eyebrow. “Stalk much?”

“I prefer to call it industry research.”

“Hmmm. So you know who Avery’s mom is?”

“Avery?”

“My best friend. The new co-owner of Lucky’s.”

“Her parents are in the business too?”

“Nope.” We both laugh. “How’s your voice holding up?”

“It’s hanging in there.”

“You should rest it between the shows on the Wylde Ryde tour. Forty shows in forty days is too much for any set of vocal cords.”

Flynn grins, but says nothing.

“What?” I ask, confused at what I’ve said that’s put the sexy-as-hell smirk on his face.

“Stalk much?”

Damn it. So maybe I learned a little from Google the night after we had breakfast. My cheeks heat, but I pull a play card from his deck. “I prefer to call it industry research.”

He throws his head back and laughs. Innocently closing the small distance between us, Flynn moves to stand next to me at the rail. When his arm brushes against mine, every hair on my body stands up and welcomes the close proximity.

“Leather pants,” he murmurs, then sips his drink. “I hope you know you’re killing me.”

Somehow, I knew he’d remember the conversation we had. I change the subject before he asks if I wore them on purpose. My skin isn’t good at lying. “You know, if you spend too much time out here with me, the blonde who was hanging on you might find another rockstar inside.”

“Oh yeah. Does that work both ways? If I spend too much time out here, is it possible you’ll find a new rockstar, too?” The shy, yet completely irresistible boyish smirk is back. Lord, it’s even more dangerous up close. I need to get out of here before I forget which rockstar I came with. Actually, now that I remember, I came here alone.

“There you are!” The curtain parts and the blonde who was wrapped around Flynn shrieks. She eyes me up and then snuggles close to him, her hands possessively attaching themselves to him from behind.

Suddenly, I feel like a third wheel. And yet I have the urge to peel the woman’s hands off him at the same time. “I should get back. Thank you for the drink.” I force a smile and turn toward the curtain-clad set of double doors.

“Wait.” He reaches for my arm and I turn back. A few awkward heartbeats pass and then a goofy smile lights up his face. He stopped me from leaving as if he had something to say, but now is drawing a blank. “Umm,” he fishes for something. “This is Lucky,” he introduces me to the blonde. “Lucky, this is…” He totally has no idea what her name is, even though she’s been hanging on him for the last few hours.

Blondie takes his cue, not looking even remotely offended. “Kylie.”

Figures.

“Nice to meet you, Kylie,” I say.

Ignoring me completely now, she focuses her attention on Flynn, who has turned his body in my direction. Not garnering the response she seeks, she walks around to face him, effectively standing between the two of us, her back to me. “I was hoping for just me and you. But if you want a three-way, can we make it a four-way? My friend would love to join, too.”

My eyes flash with irritation at her assumption. Yet Flynn takes her offer in perfect stride—as if an offer for a threesome, or foursome for that matter, is an everyday occurrence. He rubs his hands up and down Blondie’s arms, more soothing than enticing. “Thanks, maybe another time.” He looks to me apologetically.

With only a roll of my eyes as a parting gesture, I turn to make my way back into the party. I don’t belong out here with Flynn anyway. Not when the man I’ve dreamed about for half my life is waiting for me inside, and he’s leaving to go back on tour tomorrow.

Chapter Seven

Flynn

“Fucker needs to get a damn coffee pot,” I grumble, grabbing a container of orange juice from the top shelf of the fridge. I lift, expecting weight, but it’s light as air. Shaking it up and down, there’s no swish of juice inside. Of course.

A warm hand on my bare back surprises me. “Morning,” a come-hither voice purrs. I turn to find a naked woman. She’s tall, only an inch or two shorter than me, probably almost six feet, with bleached blond spiky hair and tan skin. Her body is toned and sinewy, not generally my type, but damn if she isn’t sexy as hell.

“Morning. Nolan still sleeping?”

“He snores.”

I chuckle. “No shit. Try sleeping on a bus with him. The shake from his snore is worse than the vibration of the engine. He also doesn’t have a coffee pot.”

“You’re Flynn, right?”

“I am.”

Naked Woman pours herself a glass of water and drinks it, then refills it and offers the glass to me. I take it and guzzle down half of it.

“I like the rain, Flynn,” she says in a husky voice as she presses her palms against my bare chest. I’m wearing boxer briefs, didn’t bother to slip on the pants I left next to the couch when I crashed last night. It was quiet when I let myself in; I assumed Nolan was alone or not home yet.

“Don’t think it’s supposed to rain today.”

She reaches down and squeezes a handful of my morning wood. “You can make it rain. Golden showers in the morning bring sunshine the rest of the day.”

I choke on the last mouthful of water. “Ummm…thanks, but I have to run.” As in, run the fuck out of this place. I take a few steps toward the couch to collect my things, and can’t help myself. “You know, Nolan loves to be woken up with a heavy rain.”