Page 3 of Love Song, Take Two

“Wanna get out of here?” she asked, wiping the back of her hand over her mouth.

Fletcher’s heart dropped. Maybe she was a groupie and he’d misjudged her because she wasn’t dressed like the others. Nodding slowly, he set his untouched shot on the table and asked Otis for a car. They were ushered through the back exit into a blacked out truck and he finally found his voice again.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

She tilted her head at his question, all that dark hair tumbling over her shoulder. “Get food and hang out with my favorite drummer?”

“What?”

“Okay, yeah, fucking you is not off the list, but I thought we could hang out too.”

“So you’re not…” he fumbled, not sure if the term groupie was offensive, but the woman shook her head, the most incredible smile lighting up her face.

“I am a huge fan of The Rescuers, been to every tour since you guys started out. If that makes me a groupie, then so be it. But nope. I’m only a fan and honestly? Being noticed by you might be the coolest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He blushed, looking away from her to instruct the driver to take them back to the hotel. “I saw you every night on this leg of the tour.”

“I know,” she said, grinning at his shocked expression. She scooted across the seat to sit closer to him. “I was looking at you every night too.”

“Is your list entirely music related?” he asked as they collapsed back into bed after inhaling every bit of food that was ordered. It was a miracle he was still able to breathe.

“Fuck no. There’s a lot of sex stuff on there.”

Lifting his head, he arched an eyebrow and Mick—“yeah, like Jagger”—grinned at him. “And did we do any of it?”

She nodded, wide grin still in place, as she swung one leg over his hips and pressed their bottom halves together. “That thing in the shower, your magical tongue, whatever you did with your fingers.” She rattled them off, making Fletcher laugh.

“All right, what else can we cross off tonight?”

“Let’s see…” He propped himself up on his elbows as she slid out of bed. His eyes followed her, watching the way the T-shirt slid up her ample bottom as she bent down to rummage in her bag. When she held up a rumpled piece of paper, he arched an eyebrow. “It’s my list.”

“You carry it around with you?”

“Never know when you’ll need to mark things off.” Pencil in hand, Mick returned to bed and resumed her position in his lap. “Okay. I’ve do—done, um…oh, we sh—should try something else.”

If he wasn’t watching her so intently, he would have missed the way her eyebrows dipped as she spoke. A soft hum-like sound accompanied the words. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away as she swallowed and mouthed words, the sounds coming out in soft whispers.

“Tell me what you’ve crossed off so far.”

Mick smiled and straightened her spine, like she was ready to give him a speech. “We already talked about me wanting to fuck a rockstar. Also shower sex, receive and give oral, uh…order room service and eat all of it. Then there’s stuff from before we met.”

“Tell me everything, Mick.”

“Go on tour with my favorite band,” she admitted, her eyes flicking to his briefly. “Get a tattoo, horseback riding, drive a truck, skinny dipping, keep a plant alive longer than a week.”

Fletcher brushed his thumb over the dandelion tattoo on the side of her hip that he’d kissed an hour or so ago. He felt her shiver slightly and looked up to find her watching him curiously. “What’s wrong?”

“If you had a list, what would be on it?”

“You.”

Mick rolled her eyes. “Obviously. What else?”

“I can’t think of a single other thing off the top of my head.”

“Not even anything sexual?”

He laughed and pushed himself to sit up, one arm sliding around Mick’s waist. “I’m pretty sure I did more sexual things with you than I have in my thirty years of existence.”

---