“You’re such a f**king retard,” I tell him.
“What? I used to smoke.”
“Yeah, when you could sneak one behind the school grounds in the sixth grade.” I laugh.
Garrett stubs his cigarette out. “I’m going to make like Tom and Cruise. You coming?” he asks me.
Shaking my head, I tell him, “I’ll stick around with Leif and wait for Ivy.”
I have an uneasy feeling about leaving her with just Leif. She’s pretty tight with him and he seems to watch over her, but if something happens, he’d never be able to handle it himself—from what I can tell he’s definitely more of a lover than a fighter. I make a note to myself to talk to Ena about additional security. I’ll have her call River’s security guy, Caleb, and get some recommendations.
When the crowd finally clears, the three of us head back to the bus. Leif’s phone rings, and glancing at its screen, he stops. “I’ve gotta take this. I’ll catch up with you later,” he says, stepping away for some privacy.
Ivy and I walk the remaining few feet in silence. She’s wearing a pair of tight black jeans, a gray shirt with the shoulders cut out, and a pair of spike heels that look more like boots. Her flawless body is a perfect match to her songbird voice. We’re both a little drunk, and it shows when she climbs the steps to the bus and one of her heels sticks in the rubber matting, causing her to stumble. Next thing I know, I’ve fallen on top of her. My mouth is next to her ear and I can smell the fresh scent of her hair. I don’t move because I can hear her breathing and I can almost feel her pulse racing beneath me. At that moment I know for sure—she still feels about me the way I feel about her. And in this one moment everything changes.
“You want me, don’t you?” I whisper under my breath and I can feel my mouth tip to one side.
She flips around and my body instantly falls, molding to hers in a heartbeat. The heat between us is undeniable, at least to me.
“No, I don’t,” she says a few moments too late. “Please get off me,” she adds in a voice that refuses any rebuttal. Our locked gazes keep me glued where I am, but when she averts her eyes, I can’t help but grin. It’s so apparent what that means. She forgets how well I know her.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not the liar,” she hisses.
I want to say I’m not either, but I don’t, because that would be a lie. So instead I stand up and wipe my palms on my jeans before extending my hand to help her up. She refuses my help and pushes herself up.
“I can manage myself,” she snaps as she turns and walks up the steps.
And I stand here smug as shit because now I know—I have to tell her what really happened. I just need the right time and place.
• • •
The Lincoln, St. Paul, and Des Moines shows come and go without any noteworthy events. We’re headed to Springfield for Summerfest. Summer festivals are a blast to play and we have about four more lined up on this tour. I’ve been extremely busy with press releases and promo changes. Rehearsal schedules have been ramped up and we have very little time to do anything but sleep and work, so everyone is looking forward to the festival.
We reach Springfield on the third day of Summerfest. I’m backstage at sunset and the band is just coming off the stage.
“You rocked it,” I tell Leif, giving him a high five. He had a solo on the keyboard and really tore it out.
“I’m going to check out Eminem a few stages over. Anyone coming?” Nix asks.
“I will,” Ivy answers and I’m surprised. Since when does she like rap?
“Yes, I’ll join you as well,” I add.
The other guys head over to see the Sheepdogs and the three of us cross the field as bands on five stages churn out majestic jams. Walking through the crowds, I stay close to her side, occasionally guiding her with a slight touch. Nix stops to talk to someone he knows and we keep moving. It’s hotter than hell and the crowd is a sweaty mess. We reach the stage area as the song ends and everyone is screaming for more. Another song begins to play and we stand together and listen. It hasn’t been just the two of us since the first morning on the bus. A comfortable ease slips between us as we watch the performance. Feeling the time is right, I step closer to her. Close enough that we’re shoulder to shoulder. Then I dip my head and ask, “Want to have a drink someplace quiet? Someplace we can talk?”
She bites her bottom lip and looks away. She opens and closes her mouth a few times until she actually answers me. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Her breath is sweet and warm on my neck, and I want her to change her mind. I want to hear her say yes. I want to push her, but I don’t. As I study her—her body language, her perfect face—my lips twitch from trying not to laugh at myself. I’m a guy who has always gone after what he wants. I want what I want now . . . but with Ivy it’s different. I need to earn her trust before I can tell her the truth.
“What?” She looks up at me with an innocence that makes my heart beat dangerously fast.
I can’t hold back my laughter anymore and I let it out. “Nothing, nothing. How about we grab some funnel cakes over at the midway?”
She nods with a small hint of excitement, and I have to cross my arms to keep my hands from clutching her face and just kissing her for the sweetness that I see in it.
• • •
Ivy and I spent the night listening to bands and just hanging out, but we never talked about the past—about us. I danced around the topic, but every time I did she tensed up and seemed to withdraw. So I decided to put it aside and focus on things between us now. The guys eventually caught up with us and we headed back to the bus and pulled out for our next show. We’re on the way to Cleveland with a stop in Cincinnati for a night out. Leif’s buddy Casper is a boxer and he invited the band to come watch his next fight. Leif’s convinced that Casper will be the reigning heavyweight champion in no time. His career record so far is 23 and 0. Although I haven’t been keeping up with the sport, I’d have to agree with Leif—his record speaks for itself.
The traffic is crazy on the way to the Horseshoe Casino and we’re running a little late. Ivy’s sitting next to Leif in the SUV and I’m sitting behind them with Garrett. Nix is up front. Ivy’s almost too much to take in at once. Her strapless yellow top shows off her perfect figure, but I want to cover her bare shoulders and pull her top up a little to eliminate all that exposed skin. Her hair is wavy today, a style I’ve never seen her wear, but it looks really sexy on her. She shakes her voluminous curls when she laughs at something Leif says, and I take a deep breath—fuck, she looks amazing.
We enter the venue just as the fight is being announced. She’s by my side and jumps a little when the speaker blares with the announcer’s voice: “Ladies and gentlemen, here he is! I know you all know who I’m talking about—so without further ado I give you Casper ‘the Ghost’ Holland.” I place my hand on the small of her back and guide her down the aisle. A slight shiver makes her body shake and I grin.
“This way,” I whisper in her ear.
Just as we reach our seats the crowd roars, “Ghost!” and a guy in all white comes trotting down the aisle. The back of his robe is labeled just what the crowd is chanting—GHOST. He climbs into the ring with one fluid jump and moves to a corner, where someone helps him remove his robe. Shit, this guy is ripped. Ivy’s standing between me and Leif, and when I look her way, I see her eyes are glued to his body. Leaning over, I whisper, “You might want to close your mouth. Leaving your tongue hanging out is a little obvious.”
“What? I’m just looking at his tattoos.” But she’s blushing. My eyes travel down her body and my hands want so badly to follow suit. Leif leans over and she tilts her head to hear what he’s saying. I can’t help but notice how close the two of them are, and I’m glad he has a girlfriend. When Leif pulls his phone out, she steps closer to me. Her fresh scent wafts through the air and I breathe it in. My urge to kiss the skin on her bare neck has never been greater.
When the lights suddenly dim in the stands, she turns to me. “I’m not sure watching two guys beat each other up is my thing.”
“Just look away if you don’t like it, and if it’s too much we can leave anytime,” I tell her, thankful for this sign of the innocence I sense she still possesses. I feel an urge to pull her to me and let her bury her head in my chest, but I resist.
Two burly guys try to get by so they can stand on the other side of me and she pushes her body into mine as she moves out of the way. I stifle a harsh breath. The sound of the gruff voice overhead is the only thing that breaks the spell she’s cast over me. When the crowd goes crazy, I instinctively grip her side and move her to stand in front of me. So much for resisting. She leans back slightly, almost leaning against me. The feeling of her body so close to mine just about sends me over the edge.
The announcer continues: “And now, ladies and gentlemen, may we have a round of applause to welcome, Eddy ‘Bikini’ Bottoms.” He too almost trots down the aisle. I look into the ring and see that Casper seems to be circling it—waiting for his prey. His opponent takes his place with ease, and both fighters flex their fingers at their sides, their hands taped so their bare knuckles are exposed. I have a feeling this is going to be a good fight. Each of them slides his gloves on and the crowd explodes in cheers around us when the two opponents meet in the middle and the bell rings. Casper’s opponent swings first. Casper ducks and jabs Bottoms’s side with a right, then a left. A few more rounds pass, and then out of nowhere Casper lands one straight punch to the jaw that knocks his opponent down just like that.
Ivy gasps in disbelief when Bottoms tries to lift himself up on his arms as the counting begins. With each number, she pushes herself farther back into me. Does she know what she’s doing to me? I couldn’t even tell you what’s going on in the ring. I feel like that eighteen-year-old boy that got hard with every move she made. The counting stops and Bottoms’s trainer is by his side, as he lies flat on the mat. I think the ref has already called the fight. But I’m not sure until Bottoms fails to rise and the ref approaches Casper and yanks his arm up in victory while the announcer boasts, “The victor, ladies and gentlemen! I give you, your one, your only, Casper the Friendly Ghost!”
Ivy twists her head back and looks up at me with those feline eyes. “Is it over?” she asks.
With her warm breath on my neck and her lips so close to mine, I’m having a hard time concentrating on anything but her. When I lean forward so she can hear me, I accidentally press myself into her and I swear I hear a small whimper escape her throat. I murmur in her ear, “I’ll take you back to the bus if you’re ready to go.”
She looks over at the other guys, who have their eyes glued to the ring, and then turns backs around, now dangerously close. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
I chuckle and nod. “I’m sure.”
Just as we move to leave, Leif notices and cups his hands around his mouth. “Pssst . . . Ivy, where are you going?”
Ivy turns. “Back to the bus.”
“You sure? I promised Casper I’d introduce him to you and we planned to go out later,” Leif responds.
“Next time?”
“Yeah, no problem. I’ll set something up.”
She smiles and waves goodbye.
We make our way back to the bus quickly and when we hit the front lounge she turns toward me. “Thank you for bringing me back. I’m really tired and just want to sit around and do nothing for a few hours.”
“Hey, it’s no problem. I’m feeling the same way.”
“Want to watch a movie or you going to go to bed?”
