Nell leveled her last-warning instructor stare at him. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, and you can talk however you like. But you’d better tell your driver to let me off anywhere that’s convenient, because I really don’t need to stick around and take this kind of crap.”
“Very funny,” he said, with a sour twist to his mouth.
“I’m not kidding. You said you wanted to fix things with your bandmates — was that the truth, or just some line you were feeding me? Because no one is pushing you anywhere. You can take that back or let me out of this car. Your choice.” A sad lump of regret filled her throat as soon as she’d spoken the words. He was beautiful and funny and the best sex she’d ever had, and it would be hard to walk away from that. But she knew she’d stand by the choice she’d just given him. I’m not here to carry the weight of your fear or regret. You’re a grown man; own your crap. And it bothered her how viscerally she hoped that he would.
The only sound was the smooth hum of the limousine’s motor, punctuated by the occasional honk or heavy engine sound from the traffic outside.
“Fuck me,” Eamonn grumbled at last. “I know you’re not. I’m just nervous.” And when she raised her eyebrows at him, he added, “Sorry.”
The relief she felt was flat-out ridiculous. I could have walked away, she told herself. “Nerves are okay, but don’t take them out on me.”
For a moment, she saw a flicker of answering relief in his face — they’d dodged a rough landing there — and then it shifted into something a lot more playful and seductive. “Yes, ma’am,” he said softly, with a sultry gaze, heavy-lidded. I’ve been a bad boy, he seemed to be saying. Discipline me.
She crossed her arms, tempted but unwilling to give in, even as she wondered how the shorter stubble on his jaw would feel against her skin. “No. You don’t get to play games with this and make it about sex. Use some flipping self-control and turn your rock god persona into someone who’s not an ass.”
A hint of red washed up from his shirt collar and he looked away. “I just give people what they want.”
He really believes that. And in that moment, she felt sad for him. “Your dirty-sweet smiles and flirty winks are what they want, Eamonn. Look at how Jessalyn and the nurses ate up your charm and went all googly because you brought flowers.”
“Got to be nice to people in hospitals — they’re usually having a tough enough time already.” He shrugged.
“And you don’t think you could make your driver’s day a little bit better with a smile and some appreciation? How about actually talking to your bandmates, telling them how you feel, instead of just playing a part?”
“Ouch. Low blow,” he said.
And it was; she knew that. Crap. “I’m not at my most confident right now either,” she admitted. Saying those words horrified her a bit — she prided herself on always projecting confidence and keeping everything under control. But he’d admitted he was feeling nervous, and she’d paid him back by digging at the way he’d handled his bandmates. An unacceptable slip of self-discipline. “This is completely not my world, and I’m feeling a bit… on edge. I do think you should be yourself with your bandmates, as much as you can, but I could have put it in a kinder way.”
He nodded his acceptance of that. “I guess I’m about to find out what being real with them feels like. And you’re about to find out what being a rock star’s girlfriend feels like.”
“We can do it,” she said, injecting as much brightness and confidence into her voice as she could to mask her dread, and turned to look out the window.
They were nearing the airport, heading toward the departures drop-off zone.
“Maybe this wasn’t so smart,” he muttered to himself.
“What?” She glanced over at him, only to see him shaking his head. “Come on, tell me.”
“I didn’t think this through. I haven’t been to an airport without a bodyguard since Smidge first got big enough for us to be recognized.”
That made Nell laugh, then she stifled it as she saw that he was genuinely concerned. “You’re with me, Eamonn. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” As the car slowed to a stop, she laid a hand on his arm. “Stay here while I get a cart for our bags.”
“The driver can do that,” he said.
She gave him her instructor face. We’re doing this my way. “I’m getting a cart and having a look around. I’ll let the driver get the bags out of the trunk, though. Stay in the car ’til I tell you, okay?” Focusing on safety banished her uncertainty and put her back in control of the situation. Without waiting for his response, she opened the door and got out, surprising the chauffeur who had come around to open it. “Oh, hi there. I’m just going to grab a cart, if you’ll get our bags from the trunk.”
“Sure, ma’am.” Nonplussed, but professional.
The airport was about as busy as she’d have expected for June, but most of the travelers seemed to be focused on their own needs and weren’t paying much attention to others, although a few glanced over in passing at the giant limousine. Good. No one appeared to be loitering or triggered her sense of threat.
She watched as the driver loaded the cart with the contents of the trunk — her backpack, his expensive-looking black Rollaboard bag, and a guitar case. We didn’t need the cart. She’d expected him to travel with more stuff, somehow.
Backing down from the
