“Thank God you’re okay.” Lindsey hurried over to me and gave me a quick black orchid-scented hug. She grabbed the chair at my side while Jamie snagged the one on my other side. I couldn’t decide if they were surrounding me protectively or about to interrogate me.
That would probably be Lila’s job, since she was taking her usual spot at the head of the table. We were in one of the club’s random back rooms. Coming back here so soon after feeling like I’d been chased out had been hard. But what wasn’t today? And I had my band and Cooper with me, even if he was still glaring at me with enough heat I didn’t even have to look at him to know.
“I really am okay.” My voice wobbled so I said it again. I’d say it as many times as necessary until I believed it. “I’m okay.”
Jamie tipped up my chin and examined my face as if she was looking for wounds. “You need a puffiness minimizer though and some mascara. Maybe a little shadow. Hang on.” She leaned down and grabbed her satchel-sized purse, heaving it onto the table hard enough to snap a leg. “I have what you need.”
“Oh, I’m fine.”
“Girl, you need your warpaint.”
“But I’ll get makeup for the show.” I touched my fingertips to my cheeks. “Do I look that bad?”
“No,” Cooper snapped before jerking to his feet.
Jamie cocked a brow. “Someone butt-hurt his baby browns aren’t the center of attention?”
He flipped her the bird before striding out and shutting the door behind him.
“Someday we’ll train dogs to play instruments and we won’t need men at all.” Jamie dug in her bag and came up with a brand new jar of high-end concealer. “Let’s start with this.”
“Ms. DuCaine, now really is not the time for beauty school.”
“Lila, she has under-eye bags. They’re more like gulfs.”
I bit my lip. “I had a rough morning. And night.”
“Right, so you need this. Let me apply.” Jamie unscrewed the top and blotted her fingers into the rich pearlescent cream. “Look upward. That’s a love.”
Lila sighed and set down her iPad. “I should’ve brought coffee. Why didn’t I bring coffee?”
Sympathetically, Lindsey rubbed my back as Jamie worked on me. I couldn’t even enjoy it, despite her deft hand. Knowing Cooper was pissed at me made my chest ache.
“My living on the bus isn’t a crazy idea,” I muttered.
Lindsey’s hand stopped moving. “The bus?”
Jamie paused in her feathering and blotting routine long enough to shudder. “I’d need a chiropractor if I had to spend one more minute on those things. As it is, I can’t get into half the positions I used to before this damn tour.”
“Oh, to be slumming it,” Lila said drily. “They’re top-of-the-line investments. Trust me, no expense was spared.”
Jamie snorted. “Yeah, right. That’s why the top of my head has a permanent indent from Cooper’s size fifteen feet banging on the separation between our bunks when he has one of his dreams.”
My mouth dried. Size fifteen? Surely that was an exaggeration. Not my concern right now in any case.
And what dreams did she mean?
“You haven’t had Cooper’s feet anywhere near your silken dark tresses in months and you damn well know it. Now your rolling porn bus is just you and Alex and I.”
“My rolling porn bus? Excuse me, I know exactly who was playing reverse cowgirl after MSG and it certainly was not me. I don’t like country in any shape or form.” She tapped her chin before going back for more concealer. “Well, that’s a lie. I do enjoy a man in a Stetson now and then.”
“Right. I’m the one with Cooper’s big feet now.” I cleared my throat. “I mean, metaphorically. He doesn’t sleep that near me on our bus.”
“Buses will be discussed today,” Lila said smoothly as if she hadn’t even heard our latest variety of extreme TMI.
Considering all the bands she managed and how many years she’d worked for Ripper Records, this was probably nothing to her. Not to mention her own husband, who was Ricki’s twin brother and had a mouth salty enough to make a sailor blush.
“Can we get new ones? Tilt your head left. Other left. Little more. There we go. You have lovely skin. Do your freckles go all over?” Jamie waggled her brows and made me laugh in spite of everything.
The door opened again and Jamie swore as I wrenched my neck to look over my shoulder. Not Cooper. Instead, our gigantic bassist Oz strolled in with Zane. And behind them was Lord freaking Lewis.
“Ah, fuck,” Jamie muttered, trading her concealer for a wrapped tube of Bonnie Bell purple mascara. “I’ll be quick.”
“Purple?”
“Look, it’s still wrapped at least.”
“Will I get an infection because it’s ancient?”
“Hush. It’s retro. Hey guys,” Jamie said brightly while she motioned for me to look upward. “Hello, Donovan. Back so soon from Britain? Didn’t I hear you had some bigwig powwow?”
“Ms. DuCaine. I wasn’t in Britain. We have these lovely things now called telemeetings.” He shut the door behind him and quickly surveyed the table. Only one seat was open now—the one Cooper had vacated. “Where is Mr. Dallas?”
The door opened behind Donovan and he stepped aside to let Cooper in, now carrying two Cokes. “Donovan,” he said easily as he sidestepped him. “To what do we owe this pleasure?” He slid one of the bottles toward me and I tried to mouth thank you while Jamie slicked purple mascara onto my lashes.
And subsequently poked me in the eye with the wand.
“Motherfucker!”
“Whoops.” Jamie grinned. “That’s the kind of language I like to hear. Way to go.”
My face flamed to match my hair. “Sorry,” I mumbled, waving Jamie off when she came back for round two.
“You’re only half done.”
“Whatever, I don’t care. At least I can still see out of one eye. Daisy will fix it, right?” I asked Oz hopefully, referencing his girlfriend and the band’s newest hairstylist and makeup artist.
Oz dropped his big frame into a chair. “Gonna
