Taming the Storm
Page 22
I rub at my chest, trying to right myself, while taking deep breaths.
“You okay?” His hand comes to rest on my shoulder.
He’s not even touching my skin directly, but the gentle grip of his fingertips sears through the cotton of my T-shirt and burns into my skin, branding me.
My heart starts to hammer in my chest.
His hand on me feels right…too right.
The air is suddenly thick with something—
No.
I drop my shoulder, quickly pulling from his touch.
“So, what is it with you and cartoon T-shirts anyway?” Tom asks, talking past that moment “That’s the third one I’ve seen you wear in two days.”
He’s keeping count?
I wore my blue My Little Pony Friendship Is Magic T-shirt teamed with my blue pajama shorts for bed last night.
Yes, Tom saw me in my pajamas. He was climbing in his bunk as I was exiting the bathroom.
“I love cartoons.” I shrug, leaving out the fact that I collect cartoon T-shirts because of my mom.
It started when Mom had to go to Paris for a show. I couldn’t go with her, and she felt guilty, so she went to Disneyland and brought me home a bucket load of toys and clothes to make up for it. Out of everything she got me, the thing I loved most was a Little Mermaid T-shirt. I had a serious love for Prince Eric. I wore that T-shirt all the time, even for bed. Apparently, I drove her nuts with it. So, to get me wearing something different, the next trip she took, she bought me a new cartoon shirt with Beauty and the Beast. Of course, I loved it. I wore it in rotation with my Little Mermaid shirt.
After that, it became our thing. Every time she took a trip, I would get a new cartoon T-shirt.
Mom is out of town permanently now, so in her homage, I buy myself a new shirt whenever I travel. I’m going to have to carve out time to buy a new shirt in every town we hit on tour—well, at least one in each state.
I hear the soothing sound of guitars firing up through the door behind me. My bandmates are gearing up for tonight. Then, Sonny start banging on the drums, drumming a beat I’m all too familiar with. It spreads warmth throughout me.
Smiling, I say, “I should get onstage.” I reach for the door handle.
“Lyla?”
I turn back.
“I am sorry…about before. It won’t happen again.”
“Good.” I give him a curt nod and yank open the door, hurrying onto the stage to join my boys, leaving Tom where he stands.
The Next Day—Tour Bus, en route to Boise
I awake with the feeling of last night’s show still buzzing in my veins.
For the first show and considering the level of nerves we were all feeling, it went amazingly. Afterward, we had a few drinks backstage with some of the other bands.
Tom was noticeably absent.
Tom had been there when we came offstage, but he’d disappeared soon after. I didn’t even get a chance to speak to him, not that I needed to speak to him. I guess it just would have been nice to hear what he thought of our first show.
But when we had come offstage, he had been talking to a woman, a stunning brunette. And the way her body had been leaning into his, it’d seemed pretty certain what her intentions were with him, and he hadn’t seemed to be pushing her off.
His gaze had hit mine and then slid down my body. His eyes had widened and flared when he took in my breasts that were fitted into the black corset top, which was actually easier to breathe in than it looked. I could see his gaze soaking up my skin-tight black jeans, the ones that had been shredded with a pair of scissors by Shannon. She’d cut into them, giving the impression of rips, starting at the tops of my thighs and going down to my ankles. Then, his lips curved into the sexiest smile I’d ever seen at the silver stilettos on my feet.
Heat had spread throughout my body at his blatant perusal.
My thick hair had been set in loose waves down my back, and my makeup was smoky while my lips were glossy.
I’d known I looked hot, and I would be lying if I didn’t say I’d liked the fact that Tom was affected by the way I looked.
Then, the brunette bombshell had pressed her body into his. She’d whispered something in his ear, and that had been when I looked away, telling Cale I was heading to the bathroom.
By the time I’d returned, Tom had been gone, and so had the brunette.
I’d known Tom left to do…whatever with her.
And I’d ignored the sick feeling I got at the thought of the whatever.
So, I drank with my boys, not wanting to go back to the bus and possibly walk in on Tom and the brunette.
I made sure to have fun, and I watched with mild amusement as Shannon and her assistant, Ashlee, flirted their way around my boys.
Ashlee is a pretty blonde who wears her skirts too short and her tops way too low. Understated is not a word Ashlee appears to know.
I’d met her before the show while she and Shannon had gotten us ready. Shannon had focused on me—my hair, makeup, and clothes—while Ashlee had prepared Van, Sonny, and Cale. They hadn’t needed much help.
They all have that annoying man thing. No matter what they wear, they look hot—whereas I, as most women, have to work to look good.
I’m not bad with clothes. I just don’t really bother to dress up. I’m happiest in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Sure, I know how to dress for shows. I’ve been dressing myself for those for a long time now. But Shannon’s ideas of clothes are different than mine, and I’ve got to say, I actually like her idea of clothes—the ones she puts on me anyway. She seems to know what will work perfectly on me.
“You okay?” His hand comes to rest on my shoulder.
He’s not even touching my skin directly, but the gentle grip of his fingertips sears through the cotton of my T-shirt and burns into my skin, branding me.
My heart starts to hammer in my chest.
His hand on me feels right…too right.
The air is suddenly thick with something—
No.
I drop my shoulder, quickly pulling from his touch.
“So, what is it with you and cartoon T-shirts anyway?” Tom asks, talking past that moment “That’s the third one I’ve seen you wear in two days.”
He’s keeping count?
I wore my blue My Little Pony Friendship Is Magic T-shirt teamed with my blue pajama shorts for bed last night.
Yes, Tom saw me in my pajamas. He was climbing in his bunk as I was exiting the bathroom.
“I love cartoons.” I shrug, leaving out the fact that I collect cartoon T-shirts because of my mom.
It started when Mom had to go to Paris for a show. I couldn’t go with her, and she felt guilty, so she went to Disneyland and brought me home a bucket load of toys and clothes to make up for it. Out of everything she got me, the thing I loved most was a Little Mermaid T-shirt. I had a serious love for Prince Eric. I wore that T-shirt all the time, even for bed. Apparently, I drove her nuts with it. So, to get me wearing something different, the next trip she took, she bought me a new cartoon shirt with Beauty and the Beast. Of course, I loved it. I wore it in rotation with my Little Mermaid shirt.
After that, it became our thing. Every time she took a trip, I would get a new cartoon T-shirt.
Mom is out of town permanently now, so in her homage, I buy myself a new shirt whenever I travel. I’m going to have to carve out time to buy a new shirt in every town we hit on tour—well, at least one in each state.
I hear the soothing sound of guitars firing up through the door behind me. My bandmates are gearing up for tonight. Then, Sonny start banging on the drums, drumming a beat I’m all too familiar with. It spreads warmth throughout me.
Smiling, I say, “I should get onstage.” I reach for the door handle.
“Lyla?”
I turn back.
“I am sorry…about before. It won’t happen again.”
“Good.” I give him a curt nod and yank open the door, hurrying onto the stage to join my boys, leaving Tom where he stands.
The Next Day—Tour Bus, en route to Boise
I awake with the feeling of last night’s show still buzzing in my veins.
For the first show and considering the level of nerves we were all feeling, it went amazingly. Afterward, we had a few drinks backstage with some of the other bands.
Tom was noticeably absent.
Tom had been there when we came offstage, but he’d disappeared soon after. I didn’t even get a chance to speak to him, not that I needed to speak to him. I guess it just would have been nice to hear what he thought of our first show.
But when we had come offstage, he had been talking to a woman, a stunning brunette. And the way her body had been leaning into his, it’d seemed pretty certain what her intentions were with him, and he hadn’t seemed to be pushing her off.
His gaze had hit mine and then slid down my body. His eyes had widened and flared when he took in my breasts that were fitted into the black corset top, which was actually easier to breathe in than it looked. I could see his gaze soaking up my skin-tight black jeans, the ones that had been shredded with a pair of scissors by Shannon. She’d cut into them, giving the impression of rips, starting at the tops of my thighs and going down to my ankles. Then, his lips curved into the sexiest smile I’d ever seen at the silver stilettos on my feet.
Heat had spread throughout my body at his blatant perusal.
My thick hair had been set in loose waves down my back, and my makeup was smoky while my lips were glossy.
I’d known I looked hot, and I would be lying if I didn’t say I’d liked the fact that Tom was affected by the way I looked.
Then, the brunette bombshell had pressed her body into his. She’d whispered something in his ear, and that had been when I looked away, telling Cale I was heading to the bathroom.
By the time I’d returned, Tom had been gone, and so had the brunette.
I’d known Tom left to do…whatever with her.
And I’d ignored the sick feeling I got at the thought of the whatever.
So, I drank with my boys, not wanting to go back to the bus and possibly walk in on Tom and the brunette.
I made sure to have fun, and I watched with mild amusement as Shannon and her assistant, Ashlee, flirted their way around my boys.
Ashlee is a pretty blonde who wears her skirts too short and her tops way too low. Understated is not a word Ashlee appears to know.
I’d met her before the show while she and Shannon had gotten us ready. Shannon had focused on me—my hair, makeup, and clothes—while Ashlee had prepared Van, Sonny, and Cale. They hadn’t needed much help.
They all have that annoying man thing. No matter what they wear, they look hot—whereas I, as most women, have to work to look good.
I’m not bad with clothes. I just don’t really bother to dress up. I’m happiest in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Sure, I know how to dress for shows. I’ve been dressing myself for those for a long time now. But Shannon’s ideas of clothes are different than mine, and I’ve got to say, I actually like her idea of clothes—the ones she puts on me anyway. She seems to know what will work perfectly on me.
