Page 32 of Under the Ink

She only wanted the best for Ginny—so she had to push that filthy little nastiness out of her soul right now. If Ginny wanted a husband, sheshouldget married—and Walker was one of the best prospects she could have ever wished for.

As for Naomi, she never wanted to get married. Jacob Goodman had made sure of that.

PHOENIX, ARIZONA

JUNE 9

As much as Sage loved performing for a live audience—and as much as he enjoyed being on the road—he especially loved their days off. While it was weird that they had one so early in the tour, he wasn’t about to complain. Having a weird rest day near the beginning of the tour was no stranger than working ten days straight.

It was part of the job.

Unfortunately, he was nursing a hell of a hangover. Mourning his friend Jimmy by abstaining had lasted all of a few days.

The hotel seemed like one of the nicest places they’d ever booked, complete with a huge rooftop pool that he’d have to check out later or in the morning if he couldn’t manage tonight.

For now, though, he was strongly considering a little hair of the dog. What could it hurt? They weren’t performing tonight. After tossing his luggage on the floor of the room, overlooking all its luxurious beauty, he drained his vein and then checked his phone. In the group message the band and crew used to communicate, he searched to see if anyone had said anything about grabbing a bite.

Then he realized Naomi wasn’t part of the texting group yet. Did he even have her number?

No one had said shit about anything, so fuck it. It made for an easy excuse to drink his dinner instead—and he’d seen something downstairs about a restaurant and bar. Nobody had to know he was only going for the liquid portion of the menu.

Once back downstairs, he made his way to the front desk, because he didn’t see where the bar was just upon glancing. Although there were two people at the desk, both were busy, meaning Sage would have to wait. One of the employees was stuck on the phone helping someone who seemed pretty upset. The other was checking in a couple that Sage didn’t even have to guess were quite wealthy.

It wasn’t the clothes or the jewelry or the hair.

It was the fucking entitled attitude.

The woman spoke in measured syllables, communicating her deep displeasure about seeing someriffraffinside.

Oh, shit. Shock Treatment’s roadies. Had to be.

Unable to help himself, Sage cleared his throat.Jesus, lady, turn the fuck around and get a load ofme.Besides probably looking like something the cat dragged in, he was in full rock star mode—black Code Orange t-shirt, tattoos on display, huge hoops in his ears, torn blue jeans, and sneakers. He likely looked like her worst nightmare…and something deep inside him wanted to be. As much as he hated confrontation, even more he despised people who thought they were better than others.

But he just so happened to glance away for a second and spotted Naomi hightailing it toward the front door.

What the hell was she doing?

“Hey, Naomi!” he said, walking quickly to catch up with her. If the wealthy couple turned then to see him, he was missing the fun of ruining their stay—but somehow this seemed far more important. As he picked up his pace, he could feel every footstep as a painful throb in his temples.

Was she fucking ignoring him?

“Naomi!”

At the doors, she turned to look at him. She said simply, “I thought we had the night off.”

“Yeah, we do. I just, uh…wondered if you were going to dinner.” That lie was only easy because he wasn’t about to tell her he was looking for an excuse tonoteat.

“Not exactly.”

He followed her out the door, walking beside her as she moved down the sidewalk of downtown Phoenix as if she owned the place. “Have you been here before?”

“No.”

Could’ve fooled him. “And yet you’re hauling ass like you know exactly where you’re going.” All she gave him was a shrug—but she hadn’t told him to get lost, so that was a plus. “Whereareyou going?”

She actually smiled then. “Nowhere particular.”

“Just wandering around till you find a good place to eat?”

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