“Do you think we should give her a chance?” Sed asked.
Apparently, Eric had missed something while he’d been gaping, stumbling, asphyxiating, gaping some more, and not blinking—in that order.
Jace pounded Eric on the back. “You okay in there, Sticks?” he asked. “Did you have some bad cheese?”
Cheese? What the fuck is cheese?
Eric’s brain usually worked pretty well, but apparently not with that sexalicious creature in the room.
“I promise to do my best,” Rebekah said, her soft voice mixing all sorts of strange emotions in Eric’s chest. She released Trey’s arm and moved to stand directly in front of Eric. The strawberry scent of her shampoo made his knees weak. Or maybe it was that pair of baby blue eyes gazing up at him from beneath thick, black lashes. “Will you let me work for you?” She touched the center of his chest and his heart leapt against her fingertips. “You won’t regret it.”
Eric swallowed hard. He had no idea what she was talking about, but her working for him in any capacity sounded fine and dandy to him. “Yes.”
She emitted a happy little squeal, wrapped her arms around him, and squeezed. She almost set him off balance as she hopped up and down excitedly. Before he could sweep her into his arms and carry her off to the nearest justice of the peace to recite eternal vows, she released him and hugged Jace, then Sed. Eric cringed when she plastered herself to Trey. It was one hundred percent obvious who she wanted. Now that he and Trey Mills were the only two single guys left in this band, Eric thought he would have pretty good odds of picking up a nice girl for himself.
No such luck.
Trey whispered something in her ear. She giggled and whispered, “Not here.”
Eric turned, found the nearest wall, and repeatedly banged his head against it.
Chapter 2
Rebekah carried her suitcase up the stairs of the tour bus and came to a screeching halt. This was not the bus that had been ripped in half and caught on fire in Canada, was it? It couldn’t possibly be, but who could tell beneath the piles of debris that littered the aisles and every available surface?
A black-haired, tattooed man, wearing a pair of black, baggie jean shorts over red plaid boxers, emerged from one of the piles.
He had various chains connecting his nipple piercings to God-onlyknew-what in his pants. Rebekah hadn’t even noticed him sitting there on what might have been a sofa or a cardboard box or a stuffed grizzly bear trophy.
“You must be the new FOH engineer.”
A thrill of pride made her chest swell. Sure, it was mostly due to her brother’s misfortune that she, Rebekah Esther Blake, was Sinners’ temporary front of house soundboard operator, but she was here and ready to prove herself worthy. “That’s me,” she said, beaming. She quickly forced the ear-to-ear grin from her face. She should probably try to act a little more butch or these tough roadie guys would eat her for breakfast.
“I’m Travis. That’s Jake. Marcus should be here soon.”
Rebekah scanned the piles of debris until she saw the movement of a blond mohawk near what appeared to be a dining table under a mountain of laundry and beer cans.
Jake stood, wiped his hand on his black T-shirt, and then extended it in her direction. “Dave’s sister, right?”
“Um, yeah.” She took his hand and shook it. “I’m Rebekah, but most people call me Reb.”
“Are you sure that’s not short for rebel?” Jake asked as he took in her funky clothes and blue hair.
Travis laughed. “That would make more sense, if you and straightlaced Dave come from the same family.”
“My mother has disowned me no less than a hundred times.”
Rebekah grinned over memories of all those small victories. “She’s only disowned Dave about a dozen.”
Travis laughed, dark eyes twinkling with merriment, and shook her hand.
“So, where do I sleep?” she asked, wondering if there were even beds in this mess. And then she realized the mess was beds. Bunk after bunk filled with spare pillows, blankets, potentially clean clothes, and obviously dirty clothes. Obvious, because she could smell them from where she stood.
Someone stomped up the steps behind her. “I’ve come to rescue you,” a deep voice said behind her.
She turned and found Sinners’ drummer, Eric, standing behind her. She smiled at him, and he smiled back, looking like he’d just discovered the puppy he’d always wanted under the Christmas tree.
“Rescue me? From what?”
“Do you really think we’d make you stay on the pigsty bus?”
“I don’t mind,” she said.
“The place is highly toxic to sensible females.”
She laughed and slapped him on the arm. “Then I’ll be perfectly fine.”
Eric paused and raked a hand through his crazy hair.
For some inexplicable reason she wanted to run her fingers through it too. Like a work of art, Eric Stick’s hair demanded attention. It was long on one side—something to hold on to. The other half was sheared off short. She imagined it would feel soft and silky beneath her fingertips. A row of inch-long spikes ran from forehead to nape, separating long locks from short fuzz. It was shiny and ebony except for the long lock that curled around his throat and hung down to his left collarbone. By some strange coincidence it was dyed the same blue she’d chosen to dye hers—for the sole purpose of ticking off her mother—not a week ago.
She wondered if his was real hair or fake extensions. She reached up and ran a finger over the long, blue strands. They felt real. Silky.
Smooth. Warm from his body heat. She stroked the lock again between her fingers and his throat. His Adam’s apple dipped as he swallowed hard. She cocked her head at him, really seeing him for the first time. When she really looked at him, he was actually very attractive. Why hadn’t she ever noticed him before? Obscenely tall (from her low vantage point) and lean. Rugged features. Strong jaw.
Straight nose. Thin lips with a ready smile and a sexy cleft in the middle of his chin that begged to be stroked with her fingertip. He was no Trey Mills, but…
Rebekah’s gaze lifted to Eric’s eyes, which were the color of a clear winter sky. “Will Trey be on the other bus?” she asked.
Eric’s slim black brows drew together into a scowl. “Yeah,” he said. “Of course.”
“Then I’m there.”
She turned, brushed past Eric, and trotted down the bus steps.
“Later, Reb,” she heard Travis call from inside the pigsty bus.
Eric loped down the steps and came to a halt beside her. She glanced around the parking lot looking for another bus. She’d only seen one bus when the taxi had dropped her off. It wasn’t like a big ol’ tour bus was something she could have easily overlooked. Behind the pigsty bus, she spotted the large, black moving van with Sinners’ red logo painted on the back, but nope, there was no other bus in sight. “Where’s the other bus?”
“Sed’s bringing it. He called and said he was on his way. And before you ask, yes, Trey is with him.” He rolled his eyes skyward and shook his head.
She set her suitcase at her feet to wait. Rebekah took another glance around the parking lot and noticed a vintage Stingray Corvette parked under a palm tree. That hadn’t been here when she’d arrived.
She’d have noticed it for sure. The car was a real beauty that had been manufactured in . Maybe ’. Shiny emerald green paint.
Its convertible top had been left down. Good thing it didn’t rain often in Southern California.
“Sweet!” she said, practically salivating over the car’s beauty and the raw power she knew would be under its hood.
“What?” Eric asked.
She pointed enthusiastically across the parking lot. “That gorgeous hunk of metal over there.”