Crash into Me
Page 15
Besides, normally it was hard to mind being mauled by women who wanted nothing more than to go down on him. Hell, in the past he’d let one or two do just that. But tonight he wasn’t interested in the slightest—and he wouldn’t be even if they weren’t planning on heading out in the next few minutes. His thoughts were too full of Jamison and Wyatt for him to notice the women all but throwing themselves in his path as anything more than obstacles.
Micah, Wyatt, and Quinn weren’t having that problem. Micah had grabbed onto two blond girls, was kissing one while he caressed the other’s br**sts. Wyatt was making out with a cute redhead and Quinn was signing a T-shirt while it was still being worn by a brunette with sultry eyes and an even sultrier pout.
Jared pushed past them, deflecting numerous hands and other things as he gained ground. In the last few months, he’d become an expert at working his way through a frenzied crowd without getting caught, so tonight, Ryder followed in his footsteps. He moved swiftly, twisting and turning, signing as many autograph books and body parts as he could while still keeping his forward momentum.
He’d almost made it to the first tour bus, was in fact congratulating himself for successfully running the gauntlet, when a couple of girls got their hands on him. They were small and sweet looking—and couldn’t have been more than eighteen—but they hung on like limpets, pulling at his clothes for all they were worth.
Behind him, he could hear Quinn laughing at his predicament, but the keyboardist did nothing to help him out. A few feet ahead, Jared had made it to the tour bus and thrown the door open. Though it was dark, he could see Jamison’s silhouette in the doorway.
He could tell she was watching the debacle, though her face was in shadows and he couldn’t tell if it upset or amused her. Either way, it gave him the extra impetus to get away from the clutching, groping hands. With a twist, a duck and a shimmy that would have done Mick Jagger proud, he slid out of his T-shirt, leaving it in his fans’ excited hands. The ensuing fight over the prize distracted them long enough for him to make a try for the bus.
He hit the door running, determined to get out of sight before things got really out of hand. He expected Jamison to get out of his way—she’d been around the band enough to know how crazy things could become—but she must have expected him to stop because she didn’t budge.
He checked himself at the last second, managed to avoid barreling into her full strength, but he still hit her pretty hard. They went down in a tangle of limbs.
For a second, Ryder did nothing but lay there and absorb the feel of Jamison’s lush, peach-scented body against his own. It threw him back to those long, sexy minutes he’d spent with her on the couch the night before, only this was better because he was fully alert.
Caught up in the feel of her, in the gorgeous sight and sound and smell of her, he shifted without thinking. Pressed himself against the apex of her thighs. And nearly groaned at the inviting heat of her.
Jamison gasped, a soft, broken sound that arrowed straight to his dick. He did groan then, moving so that she was above him, straddling him. He looked up at her, nearly came at the sight of her pursed lips, wide eyes, and oh-so-wild hair. He reached for her, would have run his hands through those f**k-me curls if Jared hadn’t chosen that moment to lean down and grab his sister’s hand.
He pulled her up even as he scowled at Ryder, his own eyes filled with a warning Ryder would have had to be blind to miss. He wasn’t sure what it said about him that he didn’t give a shit. At that moment, if Jamison had given him any encouragement, he would have grabbed her and taken off into the night. Would have told his best friend to f**k off completely.
But encouragement wasn’t what he saw on her face at the moment. Climbing to his feet, he kept a wary eye on Jared and Jamison, both of whom looked like they wanted to take a swing at him. He wasn’t sure his jaw could take it—bitter experience had taught him that they both knew how to throw a punch. He and Jared had tangled on more than one occasion growing up and Jamison…well, she’d taken exception to his and Jared’s teasing one night and ended up clocking both of them.
Still, those long-ago memories didn’t mean he wasn’t going to have his say. He might be wary, but he was nobody’s pussy, after all. “Jamison, I’m glad you’re here—”
He never got the chance to finish his thought as seconds later, Wyatt, Quinn, and Micah tumbled through the open door. They all looked a little worse for wear—Quinn was also missing his shirt while Micah’s hung off of him in long, jagged strips and Wyatt was in nothing but a pair of boxers. Not surprisingly, each of them wore wide, satisfied grins. But then, exhibitionism had never been a problem for Shaken Dirty’s members…or their groupies.
He glanced at Jamison, wondering if she would be upset. But she was smiling as she drawled, “You boys look like you had a good time.”
“You know it, Jelly Bean!” Wyatt gave her a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek before dropping face first onto the sofa. Seconds later, he started to softly snore.
Ryder caught Jared’s eye, saw his own worry mirrored there. Which only made him feel worse. Jared was a pretty laid-back, take-things-as-they-came kind of guy. Pretty much the opposite of Ryder and Jamison, though in very different ways. And if he was stressed out about the Wyatt situation, then it had to be as bad as Ryder was imagining. Maybe even worse.
He glanced between his bandmates’ faces, saw the strain they all tried to hide. And knew that his suspicions were right. This wasn’t the first time Wyatt had used. It was just the first time Ryder had caught him.
“Hey.” Steve, their bus driver, popped his head in from the front. “Everybody ready to go?”
“Yeah,” Jared said. “Let’s get out of here.”
It was a testament to just how worried Ryder was about Wyatt that they were already on the freeway heading north before it hit him.
Jamison was still on board.
Chapter Eleven
“What do you mean your sister is going on tour with us?” Ryder asked for what had to be the fifth time. He, Jared, and the rest of the guys—sans Wyatt—were in the back bedroom discussing her sudden appearance on the bus. They were making an effort to keep their voices low, but the bus was too small for real privacy. Especially when she was standing a few feet away from the closed door, doing her best to eavesdrop without actually putting a glass—or her ear—up against that same door.
As it was, she’d heard enough to make her want to sink through the floor. Jared had assured her that he would clear it with the guys before anything was decided for sure, but obviously that assurance hadn’t been worth much. Maybe it was a good thing he was on the other side of that door. If he hadn’t been, she’d be tempted to kick his ass.
“What’s the big deal anyway?” Jared demanded. “You love Jamison. She loves you guys. She’s a great cook. I don’t see the downside.”
“I don’t have a problem with it,” Quinn said. “Your sister’s great.”
“Absolutely,” Micah chimed in. “And if she’s going to cook for us, I say, hell, yeah.”
Jamison smiled at the support. She really did love these guys and it would hurt if they didn’t want her to tag along with them for a few weeks. She’d understand— or at least she told herself she would—but it would still hurt.
“I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” Ryder’s voice, when it came, was so low she had to strain to hear it. Then was sorry she had. “I don’t want her here.”
“You know, you can’t penalize her for what happened between you two last night.”
“Whoa. What happened between them?” Quinn demanded.
“You tapped Jelly Bean?” Micah sounded more intrigued than scandalized.
“Don’t even think about it, as**ole!” Ryder and Jared growled the exact same thing at the exact same time.
Then Ryder continued, “That’s not what I’m doing and you know it.” He sounded furious. “Anything can happen to her if she’s on tour with us. You know a lot of these guys aren’t trustworthy, right?”
“Which is why I talked to Max about staying away from her. The word has already spread about how you took him apart—Jamison will be fine. Plus, I feel a hell of a lot more comfortable with her here, where we can watch her, than in that dismal little apartment searching for a job anywhere she can get one.”
“I don’t see what the big deal is—just give her some money. Or if you don’t want to, then I will. She can get a decent place to live and—”
The alarm she’d set forty minutes earlier chose that minute to go off. Jamison leaped away from the door and dove for her cell phone, which was sitting on the kitchen counter next to the small stove. She blinked tears out of her eyes, shocked at just how desperate Ryder was to get rid of her. He actually wanted to pay her to go away? Had kissing her really been that bad?
Mortified heat flooded her cheeks as she bent to pull from the oven the apple cobbler she’d made from the ingredients she’d cleared out of her apartment. If she’d had any better options—or any options at all, really—she would have been out of there. As it was, she was stuck and she knew it. She wanted to put her head down and sob at the unfairness of it. She wanted her job back, along with her independence. Even more, she wanted the relationship she’d had with Ryder just yesterday. How could things have gotten so horrible between them so quickly?
She didn’t have time to cry, though. Didn’t have time to do anything but put the apple cobbler on the counter before the door to the bedroom swung wide open, the guys obviously alerted that something was up by the sound of her too-loud alarm.
Seconds later, the tiny kitchen was filled with large, handsome males, still in varying states of undress, all of them jockeying to see where the sweet cinnamon-and-sugar smell was coming from.
“You baked for us?” Quinn sounded ecstatic as he reached out and snagged a clump of the sugary crumble off the top and popped it in his mouth. He moaned a second later. “God, that’s good!”
“Jared, could you get me the ice cream out of the freezer behind you?” she asked as she reached for five plates from the cabinet next to the refrigerator.
“That’s it,” Micah said with a glare in Ryder’s direction. “Jamison stays.”
“Damn straight,” Quinn agreed.
Jared didn’t say anything—she knew he hadn’t planned on this going any other way—but neither did Ryder, who just stood there, returning Micah’s glare with interest.
Though she was embarrassed all over again, Jamison pretended not to notice. Instead, she concentrated on dishing up five large portions of dessert and handing them out to the ravenous guys.
She deliberately avoided looking at Ryder as she handed him his plate, but he was having none of it. “Hey,” he said, blocking her into the corner so she couldn’t take more than one step without bumping her body against his—something she would rather die than do at this point. “You know this isn’t about you, right?”
It sure felt like it was about her. Not that she was going to say that to him. If she did, she was afraid she’d end up crying and that she would not do. Not when she’d already had more than her fair share of humiliation this week.
When she didn’t answer, he said her name all deep and rumbly and determined. If she’d had her way, she would have stood there all night, refusing to meet his eyes until he finally gave up and went away. But she was conscious of the other guys watching them. So she dug deep, put on her breeziest smile and most carefree look. “Didn’t I give you enough ice cream?” she teased gently, knowing his weakness for the stuff.
“Jamison…”
God. Why was he making this so difficult for her? Couldn’t he see she was desperate to get away from him?
Micah, Wyatt, and Quinn weren’t having that problem. Micah had grabbed onto two blond girls, was kissing one while he caressed the other’s br**sts. Wyatt was making out with a cute redhead and Quinn was signing a T-shirt while it was still being worn by a brunette with sultry eyes and an even sultrier pout.
Jared pushed past them, deflecting numerous hands and other things as he gained ground. In the last few months, he’d become an expert at working his way through a frenzied crowd without getting caught, so tonight, Ryder followed in his footsteps. He moved swiftly, twisting and turning, signing as many autograph books and body parts as he could while still keeping his forward momentum.
He’d almost made it to the first tour bus, was in fact congratulating himself for successfully running the gauntlet, when a couple of girls got their hands on him. They were small and sweet looking—and couldn’t have been more than eighteen—but they hung on like limpets, pulling at his clothes for all they were worth.
Behind him, he could hear Quinn laughing at his predicament, but the keyboardist did nothing to help him out. A few feet ahead, Jared had made it to the tour bus and thrown the door open. Though it was dark, he could see Jamison’s silhouette in the doorway.
He could tell she was watching the debacle, though her face was in shadows and he couldn’t tell if it upset or amused her. Either way, it gave him the extra impetus to get away from the clutching, groping hands. With a twist, a duck and a shimmy that would have done Mick Jagger proud, he slid out of his T-shirt, leaving it in his fans’ excited hands. The ensuing fight over the prize distracted them long enough for him to make a try for the bus.
He hit the door running, determined to get out of sight before things got really out of hand. He expected Jamison to get out of his way—she’d been around the band enough to know how crazy things could become—but she must have expected him to stop because she didn’t budge.
He checked himself at the last second, managed to avoid barreling into her full strength, but he still hit her pretty hard. They went down in a tangle of limbs.
For a second, Ryder did nothing but lay there and absorb the feel of Jamison’s lush, peach-scented body against his own. It threw him back to those long, sexy minutes he’d spent with her on the couch the night before, only this was better because he was fully alert.
Caught up in the feel of her, in the gorgeous sight and sound and smell of her, he shifted without thinking. Pressed himself against the apex of her thighs. And nearly groaned at the inviting heat of her.
Jamison gasped, a soft, broken sound that arrowed straight to his dick. He did groan then, moving so that she was above him, straddling him. He looked up at her, nearly came at the sight of her pursed lips, wide eyes, and oh-so-wild hair. He reached for her, would have run his hands through those f**k-me curls if Jared hadn’t chosen that moment to lean down and grab his sister’s hand.
He pulled her up even as he scowled at Ryder, his own eyes filled with a warning Ryder would have had to be blind to miss. He wasn’t sure what it said about him that he didn’t give a shit. At that moment, if Jamison had given him any encouragement, he would have grabbed her and taken off into the night. Would have told his best friend to f**k off completely.
But encouragement wasn’t what he saw on her face at the moment. Climbing to his feet, he kept a wary eye on Jared and Jamison, both of whom looked like they wanted to take a swing at him. He wasn’t sure his jaw could take it—bitter experience had taught him that they both knew how to throw a punch. He and Jared had tangled on more than one occasion growing up and Jamison…well, she’d taken exception to his and Jared’s teasing one night and ended up clocking both of them.
Still, those long-ago memories didn’t mean he wasn’t going to have his say. He might be wary, but he was nobody’s pussy, after all. “Jamison, I’m glad you’re here—”
He never got the chance to finish his thought as seconds later, Wyatt, Quinn, and Micah tumbled through the open door. They all looked a little worse for wear—Quinn was also missing his shirt while Micah’s hung off of him in long, jagged strips and Wyatt was in nothing but a pair of boxers. Not surprisingly, each of them wore wide, satisfied grins. But then, exhibitionism had never been a problem for Shaken Dirty’s members…or their groupies.
He glanced at Jamison, wondering if she would be upset. But she was smiling as she drawled, “You boys look like you had a good time.”
“You know it, Jelly Bean!” Wyatt gave her a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek before dropping face first onto the sofa. Seconds later, he started to softly snore.
Ryder caught Jared’s eye, saw his own worry mirrored there. Which only made him feel worse. Jared was a pretty laid-back, take-things-as-they-came kind of guy. Pretty much the opposite of Ryder and Jamison, though in very different ways. And if he was stressed out about the Wyatt situation, then it had to be as bad as Ryder was imagining. Maybe even worse.
He glanced between his bandmates’ faces, saw the strain they all tried to hide. And knew that his suspicions were right. This wasn’t the first time Wyatt had used. It was just the first time Ryder had caught him.
“Hey.” Steve, their bus driver, popped his head in from the front. “Everybody ready to go?”
“Yeah,” Jared said. “Let’s get out of here.”
It was a testament to just how worried Ryder was about Wyatt that they were already on the freeway heading north before it hit him.
Jamison was still on board.
Chapter Eleven
“What do you mean your sister is going on tour with us?” Ryder asked for what had to be the fifth time. He, Jared, and the rest of the guys—sans Wyatt—were in the back bedroom discussing her sudden appearance on the bus. They were making an effort to keep their voices low, but the bus was too small for real privacy. Especially when she was standing a few feet away from the closed door, doing her best to eavesdrop without actually putting a glass—or her ear—up against that same door.
As it was, she’d heard enough to make her want to sink through the floor. Jared had assured her that he would clear it with the guys before anything was decided for sure, but obviously that assurance hadn’t been worth much. Maybe it was a good thing he was on the other side of that door. If he hadn’t been, she’d be tempted to kick his ass.
“What’s the big deal anyway?” Jared demanded. “You love Jamison. She loves you guys. She’s a great cook. I don’t see the downside.”
“I don’t have a problem with it,” Quinn said. “Your sister’s great.”
“Absolutely,” Micah chimed in. “And if she’s going to cook for us, I say, hell, yeah.”
Jamison smiled at the support. She really did love these guys and it would hurt if they didn’t want her to tag along with them for a few weeks. She’d understand— or at least she told herself she would—but it would still hurt.
“I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” Ryder’s voice, when it came, was so low she had to strain to hear it. Then was sorry she had. “I don’t want her here.”
“You know, you can’t penalize her for what happened between you two last night.”
“Whoa. What happened between them?” Quinn demanded.
“You tapped Jelly Bean?” Micah sounded more intrigued than scandalized.
“Don’t even think about it, as**ole!” Ryder and Jared growled the exact same thing at the exact same time.
Then Ryder continued, “That’s not what I’m doing and you know it.” He sounded furious. “Anything can happen to her if she’s on tour with us. You know a lot of these guys aren’t trustworthy, right?”
“Which is why I talked to Max about staying away from her. The word has already spread about how you took him apart—Jamison will be fine. Plus, I feel a hell of a lot more comfortable with her here, where we can watch her, than in that dismal little apartment searching for a job anywhere she can get one.”
“I don’t see what the big deal is—just give her some money. Or if you don’t want to, then I will. She can get a decent place to live and—”
The alarm she’d set forty minutes earlier chose that minute to go off. Jamison leaped away from the door and dove for her cell phone, which was sitting on the kitchen counter next to the small stove. She blinked tears out of her eyes, shocked at just how desperate Ryder was to get rid of her. He actually wanted to pay her to go away? Had kissing her really been that bad?
Mortified heat flooded her cheeks as she bent to pull from the oven the apple cobbler she’d made from the ingredients she’d cleared out of her apartment. If she’d had any better options—or any options at all, really—she would have been out of there. As it was, she was stuck and she knew it. She wanted to put her head down and sob at the unfairness of it. She wanted her job back, along with her independence. Even more, she wanted the relationship she’d had with Ryder just yesterday. How could things have gotten so horrible between them so quickly?
She didn’t have time to cry, though. Didn’t have time to do anything but put the apple cobbler on the counter before the door to the bedroom swung wide open, the guys obviously alerted that something was up by the sound of her too-loud alarm.
Seconds later, the tiny kitchen was filled with large, handsome males, still in varying states of undress, all of them jockeying to see where the sweet cinnamon-and-sugar smell was coming from.
“You baked for us?” Quinn sounded ecstatic as he reached out and snagged a clump of the sugary crumble off the top and popped it in his mouth. He moaned a second later. “God, that’s good!”
“Jared, could you get me the ice cream out of the freezer behind you?” she asked as she reached for five plates from the cabinet next to the refrigerator.
“That’s it,” Micah said with a glare in Ryder’s direction. “Jamison stays.”
“Damn straight,” Quinn agreed.
Jared didn’t say anything—she knew he hadn’t planned on this going any other way—but neither did Ryder, who just stood there, returning Micah’s glare with interest.
Though she was embarrassed all over again, Jamison pretended not to notice. Instead, she concentrated on dishing up five large portions of dessert and handing them out to the ravenous guys.
She deliberately avoided looking at Ryder as she handed him his plate, but he was having none of it. “Hey,” he said, blocking her into the corner so she couldn’t take more than one step without bumping her body against his—something she would rather die than do at this point. “You know this isn’t about you, right?”
It sure felt like it was about her. Not that she was going to say that to him. If she did, she was afraid she’d end up crying and that she would not do. Not when she’d already had more than her fair share of humiliation this week.
When she didn’t answer, he said her name all deep and rumbly and determined. If she’d had her way, she would have stood there all night, refusing to meet his eyes until he finally gave up and went away. But she was conscious of the other guys watching them. So she dug deep, put on her breeziest smile and most carefree look. “Didn’t I give you enough ice cream?” she teased gently, knowing his weakness for the stuff.
“Jamison…”
God. Why was he making this so difficult for her? Couldn’t he see she was desperate to get away from him?
