Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Encouraged to relax by this soothing environment, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Maybe everything will be all right. Maybe things won’t be weird between Zane and me, and maybe the other guys will focus on the shows they’ll be doing and not cause any trouble.
Just as I’m envisioning this ideal scenario, loud voices grow louder still as footsteps approach. Colin and Jordan crash into my calm, announcing their arrival by flinging bags onto the floor of the van.
“Those go in the back,” I tell them. “Behind the last row of seats.”
“Well, good morning to you, too,” Jordan says.
“We need this stuff up here with us,” Colin says.
“Keep the aisle clear.” I let out another breath that’s not nearly as relaxed.
Owen comes in next, not making eye contact and brushing past the other two to claim a seat in the back.
As beautiful as the van is, its passenger layout is unfortunate. There are four seats in the rear that face forward, and two seats in the front that face the rear, with an open area between them. I would greatly prefer to turn my back to the men during our trip, but it appears that I’ll be stuck staring at them. Their faces aren’t bad to look at; I’ll just have to pretend that they have entirely different personalities.
I busy myself with a folder of paperwork and do my best to ignore the men as they talk. Colin is describing in far too much detail the fun he had last night at his house with a woman. When he starts to talk about a specific sexual act, I interrupt.
“That’s enough. This isn’t a locker room.”
“Was his story making you jealous, Britt?” Jordan asks. We’re not even on the road yet, and he’s reclining in his seat with a leg flung over the armrest. There’s already a piece of trash on the floor by his other foot.
“My name’s Brittany.” People shortening my name is a pet peeve of mine, and leave it to Jordan to do it before the tour has even officially begun.
“I think I’ll call you Brittle, actually.” He scratches his chin, considering. “Yeah, that suits you to a tee. Brittle Brittany.”
Colin and Owen crack up, and I try to contain the flames that threaten to flare out of my nostrils.
When Zane steps into the van, I don’t mean to snap at him, but the others already have me in such a bad mood that I do. “It’s about time you got here. Are you going to be this slow every day?”
“You weren’t complaining when I took my time with you the other night.”
My eyes go wide in a panic, but I catch myself quickly. “You wish,” I say in the best monotone I can muster, hoping like hell that I’ve sold his comment as a joke.
What a complete dickhead. Does he plan to brag in front of the others? Jordan, Colin, and Owen finding out about Zane and me is the absolute last thing I need.
As soon as we get on the road, I’m going to check our route for bridges, and figure out which one would be best to push Zane over.
8
ZANE
Oh shit. I did not mean to say that out loud.
I should’ve made time for coffee this morning, even though I was running late, because I’m not thinking straight.
The size of the van threw me, too. Even though there are only four of us performers going on tour, I was expecting a tour bus, one where Brittany could be way up front, and I could be way in the back, not having to look at her or smell the scent of her perfume. There’s going to be no escaping her in this vehicle, though.
Not that I’m complaining. The ride is sweet, and the pay is excellent. It’s worth it to scale back on my personal training clients while I rake in some fast money.
All four of the Stanton brothers appear at the van’s side door, sticking their heads in, looking around, assessing things. Jordan pulls his leg off the seat and sits up straight.
“Remember, you’re the face of Club Red for everyone you meet,” Chase says, directing this mostly at Jordan and Colin, who look like they need the reminder.
“Club Red on Tour!” one of the twin Stantons yells, pumping his fist in the air like he’s cheering us on. I still can’t tell Dodge and Diesel apart.
“Have a great trip,” Chase tells all of us, before turning to Brittany, who has her hair pulled back today, emphasizing the creamy skin of her neck. “Stay in touch with daily reports,” the boss tells her.
“Of course.” She nods, and I remember what that skin on her neck tasted like, and how she quivered when I licked her there. Fuck. I force my eyes back to the Stantons as they wave at us before sliding the door closed. Even with the large windows, the space we’re in suddenly feels very small.