Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 144435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
"Were you listening at the damn door?" I growl, stomping up the steps to the stage for rehearsal. Our next show is tonight. We need to run through everything to make sure our shit traveled all right and we're good to go.
"What? No." He scowls at me. "I was talking to Jax. He's in their dressing room with Dani."
Jax and Dani have been attached at the hip since they got together. She's been good for him. Really fucking good, actually. I've never seen him so settled or so happy. It's a good look on him. If anything positive has come from having the girls here, it's the fact that Dani has kept Jax grounded.
I'm just seriously fucking worried about the rest of the band. Asher's got his head in the clouds. Jameson swears he's told us everything about his situation, but I'd bet my left nut that he's hiding something. And Mason is…well, he's Mason. He's writing love songs like they're going out of style. If things don't work out for him in Texas, it'll crush him.
I don't have time to worry about it right now, though. Apparently, I need to keep my own ass out of the fire. I don't know what kind of magic these women possess, but they're dangerous.
None of this was on my bingo card for this tour. Screaming fans? Check. Wild nights? Check. Possibly crashing and burning? Also check. Falling like dominoes for a group of wild women? Nope. Not on the card.
Clearly, we should have planned better.
I make a mental note to avoid the girls at all costs. At least for the foreseeable future. It's not much of a plan, but it's the best one I've got that doesn't involve shooting this girl's request down, pissing off our tour manager and half the band. Or inadvertently ending up married.
It's a fine line to walk.
"Surely she's almost out of friends by now," I mutter as we step out onto the stage, making Mason laugh loudly. "She has to be running out of girlfriends."
The stage lights shine in my eyes, momentarily blinding me. I lose track of where I'm supposed to be on stage and bump into Jameson. He growls a curse, narrowly avoiding crashing to the ground. It's too damn late to save me, though.
I land flat on my back, staring up at the spotlights overhead.
"Fuck my life," I groan. Of course, my mic picks it up and sends the curse bouncing through the arena. And, of course, the group of women watching our rehearsal from the front row crack up.
Jameson leans down over me, extending his hand. "Missed your mark," he says with a smirk.
"Clearly." I haul myself to my feet, trying—and failing—to avoid looking at the group of women in the front row. My eyes shift in their direction anyway. Dani and Brielle have their heads bent, whispering back and forth. Chastity and Resa are seated beside them, dancing in their seats. Shelby's directly to the left of Chastity. But the tiny little redhead beside her is new. She's also stunning.
She's younger than most of the girls, maybe twenty-one or twenty-two, with the brightest smile and the clearest green eyes I've ever seen. Freckles march across the bridge of her nose in chaotic patterns my fingers itch to trace. A cute pair of green cat-eye glasses perch on the end of her nose, perfectly matched to her dress.
Jesus H. Christ. With her head tilted back and laughter still falling from her lips, she's a bright ray of sunshine spilling light into the arena. My dick immediately pops up, standing at attention in my sweats. There's no hiding it. He just fucking reacts.
I jerk my hand from Jameson's, spinning away from the girls before they get a show they didn't come to see. The new girl is the only one getting a ticket to that performance.
Mason looks up from his drums, sees my situation, and immediately bursts into laughter. He starts humming the Wedding March between loud guffaws. For a moody drummer, he's an asshole.
"Why the fuck are you…whoa!" Jameson jumps back like my dick just tried to bite him. "Jesus, Crue. Put that goddamn thing away."
"I didn't invite him out in the first place," I mutter, running through a list of the worst things I can think of—their bare asses, running from screaming fans, that one time in Tokyo, catching my dad railing my ma on the sofa. Nothing works.
"Are we going to finish this rehearsal or…what the fuck, Crue?" Asher reacts the same way Jameson did, jumping back two steps. And then he glances over his shoulder at the girls and back to me before he smirks. "So I guess Ireland's getting her interview, huh?"
Ireland. Her name is Ireland.
I commit it to memory like I'm learning the periodic table, memorizing every line and curve of each letter. I plan to say them often.