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“Was it hiding under your mattress? That’s where you stash all your garbage. And sex toys,” I snorted. “Maybe that’s the source of the smell. You gotta clean the dildo occasionally. You don’t want to get an infection.”

“So funny,” he chuckled and reached down to pinch my ass.

I jolted, my semi turning to a raging hard on. Shit. I tilted my hips back and tried to shuffle away from him. Without falling out of the bunk, of course. But there was no room to move, so I flipped over, my back was to his front.

“This is nice. Feels like old times,” he whispered.

“Old times? What are we? Ninety?” I laughed. “And it hasn’t been that long.”

“Yes, it has. I’ve missed you, boo.”

My heart was in my throat again.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

“Are you—” he started, and his body tensed. “Have you been, you know, seeing anyone, like, lately?”

I glanced over my shoulder, his face barely visible in the darkness. “No. I told you, I’m not doing that again. I’m not cut out for that shit.”

“Okay. Cause you’ve been almost silent the past week. I thought maybe?—”

“Nope. It was something else. Family stuff,” I rested my head against his bicep. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Right now, we need sleep.”

“Yes, sir,” Ronin replied.

His arms tightened around me. If this was the only way I was going to get Ro, I was gonna shut up and take it.

“Hug me tighter.”

CHAPTER 12

RONIN

PRESENT DAY

The past seven months had been one major change after another.

The first came when Brodie, the loudest and snarkiest fuckboy of us all, finally got his man. Unfortunately, Van quit being our manager after Greg Haddley outed him, and his relationship with Dee, to the press.

But everything worked out eventually. Van and Brodie eloped to Vegas. And it turned out that Van was moonlighting as a songwriter with a pseudonym, and now he was writing full time, for us. With Brodie. And other artists. So, we lost a manager but gained a permanent songwriter. And an honorary fifth member of the band. A family member.

Then came the second major shock of the year.

Holloway fell. For Dawson no less—our lead bodyguard, and a single dad. Turns out, Holls’ desire to escape Dawson and Dawson chasing after Holls, well, it was just their weird kind of foreplay. It worked for them. Those two were so in love, they were almost as nauseating as Brodie and Van.

The third major change? We cut ties with Bandit Music. Again, thanks to Greg’s stupid ass behavior. And to top it all off, we were turning thirty this year. A new decade and more changes were coming with it.

Faise and I grew closer. Now that Brodie and Holls had partners, all four of us didn’t hang like we used to. And us single guys gotta stick together.

But ever since Faise’s relationship with Dean, I didn’t look at my best friend in the same way. The rift between us had made me pause and question my feelings. I’d always been comfortable in his personal space but now it was more like a need than a want. We were shifting, and I just hoped that whatever was going on, it would bring us closer together, not push us apart.

Today was another big step. We had a full day with our new label, Hardwick, and their VP of Marketing, Averell Jones. The CEO couldn’t make it, so they sent the next best thing to officially welcome us to their team.

Me and the guys gathered around their boardroom table, our security team patiently standing guard outside.

We’d been waiting for over half an hour when suddenly, a tall, lanky guy in a red plaid suit stalked into the room. With an angular face, a messy mop of auburn hair, and a wicked grin, he nodded at us, phone in one hand and a stack of papers in the other.

“Averell Jones, at your service,” he announced in a crisp British accent. “Apologies for the delay but I just got a new phone and it’s my first day here in Nashville, so, of course, I have no idea where to find anything, including my schedule. I swear, I feel like Mr. fucking Bean today.”

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