other time I’ve noticed.”
Micah didn’t say anything, which was strange enough that it had all of them looking at him. “What?” he said, around a mouthful of ice cream. “I didn’t know.”
“Really?” Ryder asked. “You sure about that?”
He shrugged. “Okay, yeah, I suspected. Have for a while, really. But I didn’t kno—”
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell us?” Jared demanded. “The fact that our drummer is using again is pretty pertinent information.”
“He’s fine,” Micah answered with a careless roll of his eyes. He seemed a lot more interested in his dessert than he did in Wyatt’s problems. “He’s keeping it together.”
“That’s not the point.” Ryder’s arms were crossed, his eyes a hard obsidian. “We agreed we’d watch out for him.”
“I
“Really? That matters more to you than if he kills himself?”
“Don’t be such a drama queen, Ryder. He’s obviously fine—none of you guys even noticed before tonight. Besides, you’re damn right it matters. I’m not in this band for my fucking health, you know. I want to go big, really big and this is our shot.” He shoved another bite of cobbler in his mouth, chewed, swallowed. Then shrugged. “Besides, having a fucked up drummer just gives us street cred. Feeds the mystique.”
Jamison gasped, shocked at the way Micah talked about Wyatt and his very real demons. She glanced around, realized the rest of the guys didn’t look shocked. Just disgusted. Suddenly the gulf she’d sensed between them and Micah last night made so much more sense. She couldn’t help wondering what had happened to him. Or if he’d always been like this and they’d just never noticed before.
Ryder lunged across the short distance between them, got in Micah’s face with a growl so deadly it sent shivers of dread sliding down her spine. “Keep it up, asshole, and the only ride you’re going to be taking is straight back to Austin, one way.”
“Oh, yeah?” Micah straightened up, shoved Ryder in the chest. “And who’s going to make me?”
“Oh, I am.” Ryder hadn’t so much as flinched under Micah’s assault, but when he shoved him back, the bass player stumbled. Would have gone down if he hadn’t managed to catch himself on the kitchen counter. “If you don’t start looking out for the band instead of number one, I’ll fucking ruin you. And I won’t even think twice about it.”
Jamison was shocked at the anger that throbbed between the two, wondered what had caused it. Ryder, Wyatt, Micah and Jared had been close friends for well over fifteen years. Quinn had come along a little later—just about ten years ago—but he’d fit in seamlessly and it hadn’t taken long before he was a close-knit member of the group. But when she looked at Jared and Quinn, they both looked as disgusted with the bass player as Ryder was.
Before she could say anything to diffuse the tension, Wyatt rolled over and shoved himself into a sitting position. “Jeez, I was just having a little fun. Nothing for any of you to get so bent out of shape about. Relax, will you?”
“It doesn’t look like much fun from where I’m sitting,” she told him softly enough that the others couldn’t hear, before moving to stand up.
His hand shot out, pulled her back so that she was cuddled into his side. “Don’t go, Jelly Bean.”
Surprised, she glanced into his face. Saw those damn demons prowling behind his eyes no matter how carefree he sounded. Relaxing against him, she murmured, “I’m not going anywhere, Wy.”
“Good.” He draped an arm over her shoulder.
“But you’ve got to eat for me.” She held up a spoonful of the apple crumble. “You’re way too skinny.”
“You sound like my grandmother.”
“Obviously a wise woman.”
His smile, when it came, was a little off, but the darkness in his eyes had dissipated some. It dispelled more when he leaned forward and she slid a bite of dessert into his open mouth. “God, that’s good.”
He allowed her to feed him a few more bites before he buried his head in the curve of her neck and rubbed his nose back and forth against the sensitive skin there. Jamison laughed at his tickling, then shoved at his head in response. “You smell like cinnamon.” He sniffed deeply before rubbing his face against her again.
“And you smell like dirty sweat socks.” She poked him in the ribs, tried to wriggle away from him. He responded by putting the plate aside and tickling her in earnest.
“Oh, yeah? I’ll show you sweat socks.” He wrestled with her, doing his best to get her face into his bare armpit.
She fought him, but her struggles weren’t all that effective considering she was laughing like a hyena all the while.
“Knock it off, Wyatt!” Ryder snapped.
Wyatt ignored him, flipping her around so that he was on top of her. She continued to wrestle with him, but he was way too strong for her. He might be too skinny, but years of playing the drums gave him really impressive upper body strength.
She could hear Jared and Quinn laughing from the sidelines, calling encouragement to her though they made absolutely no attempt to intervene. It only made her fight harder—she’d spent her adolescence wrestling with these guys. Now that she was a grown woman, she’d be damned if she lost as easily as she had at twelve.
“Take it back,” Wyatt taunted her from above, his wild blue eyes filled with laughter for once. That, more than anything else, convinced her to keep struggling. If she gave in, no doubt he’d go right back to brooding. Right back to hurting. She couldn’t stand that. Not when she knew how self-destructive he could become. “Come on, Jamison. Say I smell good and I’ll let you go.”
“Never!” she cried, closing her eyes and bucking against him.
He gave a maniacal laugh. “Then prepare to pay—” He stopped mid-cackle, his grip loosening abruptly as his words cut off.
Then she was free.
Jamison opened her eyes to see Ryder standing above her like a conquering barbarian, his drummer dangling from his hands like he weighed nothing. Then he was tossing Wyatt aside and reaching for her hand.
Her heart thudded hard against her ribs—once, twice—before kicking into high gear. She let him pull her to her feet and this time she made it a point to meet his eyes. He was pissed, no doubt about it, his eyes alight with a wild fury she rarely saw in him.
Too bad she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not this time. He didn’t want to hang out with her, fine. But that didn’t mean she was going to give up her friendships with his bandmates. Like Jared, these guys were her closest friends in the world. If Ryder didn’t like it, then that was his problem.
Leaning forward with an insouciance she was far from feeling, she patted his cheek in a deliberately insolent manner. “Thanks for the rescue. But I think I’ve got it from here.”
Then, taking her time, she turned and sauntered toward the bedroom at the back of the bus.
It wasn’t much as far as exits went, but then it wasn’t like she had anywhere to go when the bus was speeding along the interstate at close to seventy miles an hour.
Behind her the guys razzed him mercilessly and for the first time it really hit her just how difficult the next few weeks were going to be. Being in such close proximity to Ryder and not being able to touch him, kiss him, stroke him was going to be more torturous than she had ever imagined possible.
Chapter Twelve
His dick was on fire. Even with worries about Wyatt spinning in his head, he could barely think through the arousal. Through the need.
Jamison was in the bunk below him—she’d refused to take the bedroom and mess up the rotation, and
