LITMIR.BIZ

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in her eyes. “Right. If candidate A isn’t readily available, they’ll find candidate B.”

      He rubbed the back of his damp hair, her comment landing squarely. Wasn’t that the truth. People came backstage to fuck a band member. As long as the guy was halfway decent looking and willing, in the end, it didn’t matter who they ended up with. The sentiment was the same from the other side, too, though. Pretty groupies were just as mix and match. “It is what it is.”

      Her expression was wry but grim. “I’m aware.”

      That’s when he realized he shouldn’t have invited her back here. Even if he wasn’t partaking of anything, it highlighted exactly how different their worlds were. Sometimes he forgot this wasn’t normal. He could see her opinion in the vague disgust on her face.

      “So how’d you like the show?” he asked, pulling her focus away from the scene around them. He hated that he felt the urge to ask, probably sounded like he was fishing for compliments. But for some reason, her opinion mattered to him.

      She leaned back in the chair, considering him. “Your guitarist is crazy good. Crazy good. And hot.”

      He sniffed. “Is that why you’re back here? Want me to get his phone number for you?”

      “That’d be great. Is he single?” she asked, all wide-eyed eagerness.

      He gave her a stony look.

      Her mouth tilted into a pleased smile. “You’re kind of cute when your ego is bruised.”

      “Wonderful. You know, I don’t really need another sadist in my life. I’ve got enough of them.”

      She leaned forward, bracing her forearms on her thighs, unintentionally giving him a nice view of her cleavage. “Oh, get over yourself. You know you’re a phenomenal drummer. Watching you is like falling into some voodoo spell. Arms and sweat and sticks flying. Even I had to fight the urge to throw my granny panties at you.”

      He laughed. “Granny panties?”

      She patted the waistband of her shorts. “I’m all about the comfort, my friend.”

      A lightness filled his chest, his mood buoying. “So what you’re saying is, watching me drum turned you on and now you must have my sweaty, dumbly tattooed body or you’ll just die of lust.”

      She gave him a droll look. “What I’m saying is that I came back here to be honest with you. You have a thing for honesty, so it’s only fair I give you some of mine.”

      His eyebrows lifted. “All right.”

      “Yes, I’m attracted to you. In truth, I couldn’t tell you what your guitarist looked like because I never took my eyes off of you.”

      Pike leaned forward, his blood stirring.

      “But this can’t happen. I know I’ve given you the wrong idea with the phone call and all, but you need to hear this. I’m the kind of woman you most fear. The relationship kind. I don’t do casual hookups.”

      He shifted on the couch, the word relationship making his skin prickle. “What’s so bad about casual?”

      “I have a daughter to worry about.”

      He released a breath. “I get that. Believe me.”

      “Do you?” she asked, clearly unconvinced.

      He glanced around, making sure no one was in earshot. “Yes. I do. My dad walked out on us when I was five and left us with jack shit. After that, I can’t tell you how many ‘friends’ my mom brought home to play daddy and help pay the bills over the years. I hated those guys. Hated those men who used my mom and acted like they had some say over me and my brothers and sisters. I’d never want to be that guy.”

      He could still remember the first boyfriend—Louis. Pike had been young and gullible enough to let himself get attached to that one. Louis would play baseball with him sometimes, so he’d thought he was a good guy. But he’d been a petty criminal with a mean streak and had disappeared after getting in a bar fight that left a man with a brain injury. His mom had been pregnant at the time. That had started the pattern of the many dangerous, destructive men who would come into his family’s life, wreak havoc, and bail without looking back.

      Oakley frowned and he braced himself for the trite sympathy. Why the hell had he let himself tell her that? No one besides Foster and Gibson knew about his background. Even the band had a false bio for him.

      But she didn’t do the oh-you-poor-thing routine. She simply nodded. “So you get it, then.”

      He shoulders loosened. “I get why you need to protect her. But I also get that there are ways around it. She doesn’t have to know. You’ve kept your night job private. We could keep this private.”

      She sighed. “It’s not that simple.”

      It was. It could be. He eyed her. “So this isn’t just about Reagan, then. This is about you.”

      A wrinkle appeared between her brows. “Maybe.”

      “Because of the relationship thing? You want that?”

      “I—” She frowned in frustration. “I don’t know what I want. I mean, we’re doing the honest thing, right?”

      He nodded.

      “Good. Then I’m not going to be a bitch and lie about the night on the phone. That was great. I needed that. God, did I need that. But I know myself. The minute I take this a step further, my emotions are going to get involved. I’m not—” She looked around at the others backstage. “I’m not like these women. I don’t judge them for taking what they want and having a good time, I just can’t relate. I had a kid when I was still a kid. I didn’t go through the stage where you layer up that tough skin, where you can just hook up for fun and move on. I tried it in my early twenties and I sucked at it. I’m not built for what you’d want from me.”

      “I think you’re a lot tougher than you give yourself credit for,” he said, not trying to push her but sharing his honest opinion. The girls he’d met backstage city after city had nothing on Oakley. She’d raised a kid on her own, was holding down two jobs, and had no qualms about laying out what she needed from a guy. Potential. A relationship. There was no apology there. No game. He liked that.

      Even if he wasn’t the guy who could fulfill it.

      He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could get it out, long, bare legs appeared in his periphery. He turned right as Holly lowered herself into the spot next to Pike. Her hand went to his knee. “I’m about to head out. You ready?”

      Oakley seemed to grow in height as her spine stiffened in the chair.

      A flash of anger whipped through Pike at the interruption and uninvited touch. He put his hand over Holly’s and moved it off his leg. “I was in the middle of a private conversation.”

      “No, it’s okay,” Oakley said, moving to get up, her voice tight. “I need to get going anyway.”

      Holly smiled, victory in her eyes.

      Fuck. Pike stood. “No, Oakley, don’t. Please stay.”

      Her jaw twitched as her gaze slid over to Holly. “It’s okay. I think three’s a crowd.”

      “Doesn’t have to be,” Holly said, suggestion in her tone.

      Jesus Christ. Pike swiped a hand over his face. “Holly, give us a few minutes.”

      Holly shrugged, but didn’t look too perturbed, probably because she figured he was going to work out a threesome with Oakley. She stood and gave his shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll just go and grab a drink.”

      She sauntered off, her heels clicking on the concrete in a slow, purposeful beat. Pike moved closer to Oakley. “I’m sorry about that. I—”

      “Don’t worry about it,”

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