Her eyes widen when she sees what I’m dealing with. Her lips twitch before she barks out a laugh. “The Manwhore of La Mancha is really Moby Dick.”
Shaking my head, I laugh. “Shut up.”
I lock myself in the small bathroom, flip on the hot water, and a minute later, I have one hand braced on the plastic tile while I grip my dick with the other. When I close my eyes, all I see is Rory. Her sparkling hazel eyes when she had that makeover. The way she moaned when I kissed her. Her amused smile when I make her laugh.
I’m not supposed to want my nanny. I’m not supposed to wonder how her nipples would feel against my tongue or how she’d look with her mouth full of my cock. I’m not supposed to think about the sounds she’d make if we fucked or wonder how fast I could make her come.
When I erupt, I squeeze my eyes shut and lean my forehead against the tile.
One thing is obvious. I can’t do this for the rest of the summer.
By mid-afternoon, I’m still annoyed with myself for letting my thoughts derail. I watch Rory through the giant window in the lounge. She’s talking to that influencer, Quinn, as she pushes Layla in the stroller. My daughter wouldn’t go down for a nap, so Rory thought walking her around might work.
The AC hums in the background, and outside, the sun glints off all the parked buses and trailers. Frank slides into the seat across from me at the kitchen table. “You have another twelve thousand followers. Whatever she’s doing is working. Gotta say I’m pleasantly surprised.”
“I need a band t-shirt. Maybe get me a small and a medium, and Rory can pick one.”
“Sure.” He looks me over. “Listen, the label has a request.”
The concern in his eyes worries me. “Lay it on me.”
“They don’t want you to advertise that you’re married. They’re afraid it’ll turn off female fans.”
Rory and I haven’t posted anywhere that we tied the knot, and we had a candid conversation about where we stand with each other last night. I shrug. “Okay.”
He grins. “Great. That was easier than I thought it would be.”
“Only I’m not gonna pretend I’m single either.”
“What does that mean?” His concerned face returns.
“It would be disrespectful to Rory if I let fans sit on my lap for photos. You know, that sort of thing.” I lower my voice so my bandmates don’t overhear. “I promised I wouldn’t embarrass her by sleeping around.”
Rubbing his chin, he nods. “Makes sense. How are you doing with Marlowe?”
“Hasn’t been a big deal.”
“You’ve been looking a little surly today, which is why I asked.”
I close my spiral-bound notebook where I’ve been messing with the same lyrics for two days. “Just trying to write.”
“Good. Remember, if you need anything, I’m here for you.”
“Thanks, man. Appreciate it.” My manager is the best.
“Jace,” Cooper calls out from the entrance of the bus. “We have a problem.”
Frank and I scoot out of the bench seats of the kitchen table. I don’t have to ask Coop what’s going on because he’s holding a destroyed box of chocolate in his hands. Damn it. “The Cherry Smasher.” I run my hands through my hair. “Maybe it’s a coincidence.”
Cooper picks through the candy until he finds one that hasn’t been annihilated. He holds it up to inspect it and then pops it in his mouth. “Or maybe that psycho missed us.”
Rory climbs up the stairs with my sleeping daughter in her arms. “What psycho?”
I debate what to say because I don’t wanna scare her, but Coop fills in the silence. “The one who followed us around Texas for an entire year.”
Her eyes grow wide. “Do we know who she is? I mean, it’s a woman, right?”
“Probably. She seemed fixated on Jace. Left him candy and presents. Kept asking him to meet up. When he didn’t respond, she got aggressive. Started sending destroyed candy, especially Jace’s favorite.”