Luckily, I keep a mini–first aid kit in my travel case. Underneath the useless packages of gauze and suture-removal sheers—really who needs to remove their own stitches?—I find the small packet of Tylenol that I’ve seen there the few times I’ve opened the case.

Great, they expired three months ago.

I swallow them anyway, using only a handful of water from the bathroom sink. Very ladylike.

I do my best at fixing myself, pulling my hair into a ponytail, applying moisturizer, a quick coat of mascara and a few pumps of perfume. The smells make me nauseous.

Dylan’s voice startles me when I tiptoe back into the bedroom.

“You took a shower without me.” He’s lying on his stomach, face-down still, his tight ass enticingly bare. “And you’re dressed already. When I heard the water go off, I was hoping I’d used all the big towels last night and you’d have to use one of those small ones. I was looking forward to seeing you wet in a tiny towel.”

I smile. His head isn’t even lifted off the pillow, yet he’s got a clear visual of what he was hoping to see. I walk to the bed and sit next to where he’s lying. “Sorry to disappoint you, but my flight is in a few hours and I need to get going soon.”

“No, you don’t.”

I’m not sure if he means I don’t need to leave so early or he wants to have another argument about my returning tonight. “Yes, I do.” I hedge. “I’m not sure about Sunday traffic, but the airport is at least half an hour away and my flight is in three hours.”

“You don’t need to be on this afternoon’s flight.” Guess I hedged wrong on what we were arguing about.

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

I sigh. “I told you, Dylan. I just started my job and I don’t want to ask for time off so soon.”

“You don’t need to ask for time off. There’s been a change of plans with your new job.”

I freeze. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been reassigned.”

“Reassigned?”

“Yes. For the next month, you’re on tour with Easy Ryder.”

“What? Why?” Why would the label send a voice coach to travel with the band? No one has any issues that I’m aware of. “One of the guys is having trouble with his voice?”

“No. But Linc’s girl is going to have the babies a few weeks earlier than planned and he needs to go home for a few weeks.” Linc Osborne is Easy Ryder’s bass player and sings a few of the songs on their new album. He’s a tenor with a to-die-for falsetto and the songs he does are very popular. His girlfriend is pregnant with twins and the doctors have had her on bed rest for months, trying to hold off labor as long as they can.

“I’m missing the connection to me.”

“I got someone to fill in…but the label is concerned. He’s had voice issues and he’s singing a few weeks earlier than he should be. It’s only two songs a night. They’re just being cautious.”

“So they want me to work with him? While you’re on the road?”

“Yep.” Dylan pulls me from sitting to lying down on the bed. I’m quickly on my back beneath him. “And that means we both get what we want. I get to have you with me for a while. And you don’t have to miss any work.”

I’m not really sure how I feel about spending weeks on a tour bus with the band. With Dylan. I suppose a few weeks of being together might help me move forward in our relationship. Dylan’s been pushing for more and I’ve been hesitant. Yet there’s a nagging feeling in my stomach.

“Say something. I thought you’d be happy.”

“I am,” I say, but the hesitancy is clear in my voice. Even I don’t believe me.

“I think I need to show you how much fun being my bunkmate on the bus can be.” Dylan rolls us so I’m on top of him. I can feel his happiness about the arrangement pushing up against my belly.

“But…but I need my things.”

“I’ll buy you new things.”

“What about—”

“Relax, Lucky, will ya? I thought you’d be excited to come on tour.”

“I am…” Am I?

“I’ll fly Avery out to spend the weekend when we hit Austin. There’s a festival and a bunch of parties.” Dylan is not a fan of Avery. I know he’s trying.

His thumb and forefinger tip my chin up so our eyes meet. “It will give you a chance to see if our future is what you envisioned.”

It suddenly dawns on me for the first time—I’ve never envisioned our future together.

As if dinner with the lead singer of Easy Ryder didn’t attract enough attention, the full band all sitting around one large round table is the paparazzi’s dream come true. And the guys certainly don’t attempt to keep under the radar. Duff, the keyboard player, is in a heated exchange with Mick, the drummer, when Dylan and I approach the table. We’re a bit late, but then I had a lot of things to do today since I’ll be heading to Miami tomorrow with a bus full of men, rather than back home as expected.

“No fucking way. I had to listen to months of this guy’s snoring.” Duff jabs his thumb in Linc’s direction. “I am not listening to your sorry ass boning every night over my head.”

“Maybe if you could find a piece of ass who wanted to bone your little dick, you wouldn’t notice the sound coming from my bunk.”

“Accommodations dispute,” Dylan leans in and whispers to me as we take our seats. The next part he says louder. “I swear to God, if they aren’t fighting over which chair to sit in, it’s which bunk they get.”

“Fuck off, Ryder. If you didn’t take the only bedroom, you’d be in these fights too, asswipe.”

“That’s why I’m glad I’m the king.” Dylan stretches back in his chair. Duff, Linc and Mick hurl bread at his head. Dylan catches the second piece and takes a bite. “Just give the kid the bottom bunk. Duff can move to the top bunk and you can stay where you are.”

“I don’t want to room with the kid. What is he, like twenty-four? Dude, think of what we were like ten years ago going on our first tour.” Mick looks at me apologetically. “No offense, Lucky.” Then he continues with his rant to Dylan. “And that kid’s prettier than you were. I’ll never get any sleep with all the babes that are gonna be fuckstruck with that one.”

“Fuckstruck?”

“He’s gonna be a pussy machine.”

“Have some manners around my girl, asswipe.”

Listening to the way the guys describe the activity on the bus starts to make me think I was right for feeling unsure about things earlier. Dylan and I spent all afternoon together. His attentiveness and the simplicity of the day—shopping, walking around Atlanta incognito—had started to mollify the anxiousness I felt when Dylan first surprised me with my temporary job assignment. But now, apprehension is starting to creep up again.

“Why don’t you declare the bus a guest-free zone? That’s what my Dad always did.”

Every mouth silences and every head turns in my direction.

“What’s the point of being in a band if you don’t get laid?” Duff says, aghast at the notion.

“How about for the music?” a voice I recognize says from behind me.

It couldn’t be.

I turn.

Holy shit.

But how?

And Why?

Then the pieces of the puzzle all click into place and I’m able to see the whole picture. The kid. Voice issues.

I stare up at Flynn.

He stares back at me.

And I realize. I’m totally fuckstruck.

Chapter Thirteen

Flynn

Now this is going to be interesting.

The label told me they were setting me up with a voice coach. Even though I feel fine, the insurance company wouldn’t insure the tour unless I finished the mandated voice rest period my doctor had suggested on the physical he completed. He’d cleared me for In Like Flynn to open for Easy Ryder starting in two months, but filling in for Linc is much earlier than the doctor was comfortable signing off on. The coaching was how the label convinced my doctor and the insurance company I wasn’t a risk. I must be an idiot. It never once crossed my mind that they’d assign me Lucky.