Page 23 of Snared

Cassie laughed.

“I’m in,” Jax said.

Tristan shook his head. “Of course you are.”

Jax threw in a hip thrust. “Maybe they want me on stage.”

“Yeah. Doubtful,” I teased.

The guys went back and forth, taunting each other, and Cassie slipped into the chair next to mine.

“So how’s it going with everything?” she asked.

“Just living the dream on a bus with a bunch of frat boys,” I replied.

She shuddered. “Messy, stinky men. I can only take a few days of it before I start considering my life choices.”

“I noticed you’re only showing up during our extended hotel stays.”

She chuckled. “Those bunks are snug,” she said with a shrug.

I wrinkled my nose. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d hooked up on a tour bus, and I definitely had no plans to do that any time soon.

“Wanna dance?” Connor asked when I set my empty glass down on the table.

It’d been about an hour since the guys from Savage Night had joined us upstairs, and we were all sharing our stories of being on the road. They were pretty new to the big leagues but had a strong college and online following. This was their first real tour, so the lead singer and guitarist hung on every word from Tristan and Bash. Even Jax had some pearls of wisdom.

“I’m good for now,” I said.

He moved in closer, something he’d been doing all night. He was sweet, charming, entertaining, and attractive, but there was nothing there, even if I didn’t have a “no tour hookup” rule.

“We had great rhythm down there,” he said, then wiggled his brow. “Get it? ’Cause the drummer and bassist make up the rhythm of the band.”

I laughed. “It doesn’t work if you have to explain the joke.”

“I swear I’m slicker than this,” he muttered, running his hand over my fingers on the small table.

“Connor,” I warned. I should’ve told him I wasn’t interested when he put his hand on my hip on the dance floor, but I’d shifted away from him. It’d been too loud down there to say anything anyway.

“You killed it on the skins tonight. Well, every night. It’s a sight to behold,” he said, laying it on thick.

I swear, the puppy-dog eyes would be next.

“Thanks,” I said. “Living the dream.”

“It’s fucking sweet. Can I get you another drink?” he asked.

“I’m good.” I’d had a few and the last thing I wanted was to be hungover again. I was still recovering from yesterday morning’s headache, among other things.

He leaned in closer, his thigh pressed against mine.

I shifted away. “I don’t date musicians, Connor. Especially not guys I’m on tour with.” There was no point in being subtle anymore.

He leaned back. “Hey, hold on. Okaaay,” he drew out. “I haven’t even gotten the courage to ask you out yet and you’re already shutting me down.”

I laughed softly at his tone. He wasn’t offended or put out, which was refreshing. So many men in this business had epic egos and getting shot down wasn’t something in their realm of experience.

“We good then?” I asked. He was a nice guy, but that’s where it ended for me.

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