Page 3 of Jet

“Take a seat, Quinn. I can’t guarantee that I’ll sign the papers today, but we’ve shared plenty of meals together. What’s one more?” I continue devouring my food, not paying her any mind, when the chair scrapes against the floor next to me. I watch out of the corner of my eye as she sits down, unwraps the burger, and sinks her pearly whites into the greasy goodness. When a sexy moan escapes, my cock wants to salute the sound.

What the fuck!

“Thanks, I really needed this. All I had was a yogurt and coffee this morning… or was that yesterday? I don’t remember, but I owe you big time.”

I don’t trust myself to speak right now since she has a tiny bit of ketchup on her bottom lip and damn if I don’t want to lick it clean.

Quinn is gorgeous, smart, and selfless. Everything I need to stay far away from.

* * *

QUINN

Those baby blues holdso much sadness, and for the life of me I wish I knew why that was. I’d only be fooling myself to think he’d ever open up to me when his bandmates don’t even know the real reason. I’m sure Lucas does, but he’s fierce and loyal and I don’t blame him for not divulging anything. Truth be told, he’s the reason I’m here. Trying to make nice so the rest of the tour won’t be so confrontational. Lucas thinks if Jet and I can spend some time together, we might be able to come to some kind of truce. Now I’m not so sure.

“Are you going to finish that burger or just stare at me?” he asks. Crap, I didn’t realize his gaze was locked on mine.

“Hell yeah, I’m going to finish. Why? Are you sorry you asked me to sit and break bread with you again?” It’s a figure of speech, but he tenses up and I don’t know why. No matter what I say or do, he seems to be offended. Coming here was a mistake and I should have just gone with my gut and stayed far away. I’m hoping he doesn’t call Willow or Trevor because they’re both kicking back at home chilling out. They didn’t go anywhere. And I wonder what Jet would do if he knew Lucas was behind this little charade?

Raising my brows, I take a big bite and chew. Challenging him to even try to take it away from me because I will bite. When he chuckles, my skin prickles with goosebumps. He does that so infrequently that it’s music to my ears. We finish eating in silence, but not before he slides some fries in my direction and I chow down on them before he changes his mind.

After we’ve devoured every bite, I get up to clean off the table when he grabs my arm. “I’ll take care of that later. Tell me what these papers are all about and why it couldn’t wait until everyone was together again.”

“It’s the itinerary for the rest of the tour, and I need someone to sign off on it.” I don’t think he’s buying it, but he grabs them anyway and starts reading. “If you need me to explain something…”

“I might not have a fancy college education, Quinn, but I can read.”

“Why do you take everything I say and do out of context? Contrary to what you might think, I’m trying to do what’s right for you and the band. After all, isn’t that what I get paid to do? God forbid I try to be your friend, too. You know what, sign the damn papers whenever you’re ready and I’ll pick them up or mail the damn things for all I care. Thanks for the eats. I’m out of here.”

With one twist of the knob, I’m ready to bolt when his heat surrounds me from all angles. And his scent just about brings me to my knees. I need to snap out of this lustful stupor I’m in because he’s made it abundantly clear he wants nothing to do with me. His hand appears out of nowhere, slamming the door closed with a finality that has my heart pounding inside of my chest.

Leaning down, he whispers against the shell of my ear, “You’re on my turf, Quinn. Which means I don’t take orders from you, just the opposite. You’ll do what I tell you to do. Now, sit down! I’ll read over the papers. If they meet my criteria and I don’t need to call our lawyer, I’ll sign them so you can get out of my house and hair for the next twelve days. Got it? Good.”

It takes everything I have not to turn around and slap his pompous face, but I’m supposed to be here to make peace, not start a war. So, I do what he asks and go sit on the sofa. As far away from him as humanly possible in this small space. While he’s reading over the documents, I scan the room and suddenly realize how impersonal it feels. The walls are a stark white, giving a clinical vibe that isn’t the least bit homey and inviting. In my mind, I’m figuring out how to decorate this space when his agitated voice pulls me out of my daydream.

“Are you fucking serious right now? No, I’m not signing this, and if any other member of the band give permission to this, I’ll walk away. This is blackmail and I won’t be privy to it. I’ve already told you I won’t do an interview and that will never change.” Oh, if looks could kill I’d be dead.

“That’s part of your contract, and there’s going to be plenty of things that are uncomfortable for all of us moving forward. But if you want a career in music, you better get used to it. Your life is an open book and the sooner you come clean, the easier it will be. If you continue dragging your feet like an insolent child, the public will think you have something to hide. That’s when it could get ugly, but if you let me do the interview, I’ll have your back.” My heart breaks when his hands slide down his face, scrubbing away the pain.

“Music is my life, but if I need to walk away because my past is buried and gone, I will. I swear, Quinn. I won’t do an interview with you or anyone else. If that means they go digging, let them. They won’t find a damn thing. I’m sure you know that since you’ve done your own investigating.” He’s right. Every damn word. A twenty-six-year-old Jet Turner doesn’t exist. So, who is the real Jet Turner?

“I can’t force you to do something you’re not comfortable with. If you change your mind, call me and I’ll pick them up. Otherwise you can answer to the other three members of your band when they realize you’re the one holding up the process. I hope I’ll see you when the tour kicks off again, Jet. It would be a shame to get this far and something like this stands in your way. Thanks for the lunch. Catch you later.”

I can’t stop the tears sliding down my face when I close the door behind me and his screams pierce my eardrums. Angry, hurtful cussing assaults my senses as objects crash against the door, the walls, and anything it comes in contact with. Shaking the frame behind me. God, Jet, what did they do to you?

My hands are shaking by the time my thumb hits the button on my phone. When he answers, he inhales. “Fuck, I guess it didn’t go so well, huh?”

“This was such a bad idea, Lucas. He’s so upset and I hate leaving him. This is all my damn fault and now he’s thinking of quitting the band all because of this damn interview. Call him, please. Promise you will.” I’m sniffling so bad that I don’t think he can understand a word I’m saying.

“Jet’s losing his shit because he hates being cornered. I’m sure he feels like everyone’s ganging up on him since he’s the only one who’s not onboard about the interview. Go home, Quinn. I’ll call him to smooth everything over.”

JET

Pissed doesn’t even compareto how I was feeling after my late-night conversation with my BFF. Never did I ever think that Lucas would go behind my back the way he did. The only good that came out of it is I don’t need to do the interview, and he now realizes that it’s best to keep Quinn as far away from me as possible. If not, I already told him I’d quit the band and they could find another bassist to finish up the tour. I don’t give a fuck about breaking a contract when it comes to my privacy. I thought I made it crystal clear all those years ago when I told him straight-up. Well, now he knows after I reminded him about our blood oath, which in my opinion is more binding than a damn piece of paper and a ballpoint pen.

I couldn’t sleep a wink after our conversation last night. I’m hurt, exhausted, and in need of a good workout. Reason being I’m heading down to my favorite sweat shop.

Walking into theHungry Dog Dineris the closest to coming home that a drifter like me can expect. Even with the shiny new faces that greet me as I enter, the aroma settles my nerves. When I get into the kitchen, a head pops up the second I swing open the door and the genuine smile I see tells me all I need to know.

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