Page 67 of Rockstar's Accidental Marriage

I nod, slipping my phone back into my pocket. “The crew’s almost done. We’ll be on the road in fifteen minutes.”

Sam walks up. “Another night on the bus,” he mutters, earning an apologetic smile from me.

“You’ll survive,” I murmur, my tone teasing.

Sam chuckles, his eyes giving me a wicked look. I shiver, remembering our time in the storage room. But the truth is, I’d give anything for a quiet night with him in a real bed. The bus is fine for sleeping, but it’s not where I want to be—I’d rather be snuggled up against him all night as he holds me safe in his arms.

The bus rumbles to life as we pull away from the venue, the city lights fading into the distance. Even though it’s late, the adrenaline is too high for any of us to sleep. Luke and Nate are already bickering over the playlist, Vince is strumming his guitar softly, and I find myself drawn to the quiet of the back lounge.

Sitting down on the couch, I pull out my laptop.

“Working already?” Sam asks, leaning against the doorway.

I look up and give him a soft smile. “Just updating the schedule for tomorrow.”

“Ever heard of taking a break?” he teases, stepping inside and dropping onto the couch beside me.

Closing my laptop, I turn to face him. “What about you? Don’t you ever get tired of giving me a hard time?”

“Never,” he replies with a grin. “It’s one of my favorite pastimes.”

I roll my eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile on my lips.

“Turn around, and I’ll massage your shoulders,” Sam whispers softly.

His strong hands work magic on my shoulders, and I have to bite my lip to hold back a soft moan. The way his fingers know exactly where to press, how to make the tension melt away—it's intimate in a way that makes my skin tingle. When he kisses that sensitive spot beneath my ear, my whole body responds.

As he continues to work on my sore muscles, the chaos of the tour fades away, leaving just the two of us in the quiet space. It’s moments like this remind me why I was attracted to him in the first place—his strength, his easy-going and laid-back smile. More recently, he has made me feel like I can handle anything as long as he’s by my side.

“That should do it,” Sam says softly, kissing that sensitive space under my ear that he knows drives me wild. I shiver in response. “Goodnight, Cupcake,” he whispers with a knowing look in his eyes.

With that, he’s gone, leaving me to make my lonely way to my cramped bunk—alone, already missing his warm touch.

The bus rumbles on through the night, the highway stretching out endlessly ahead. The rhythmic motion of the wheels on asphalt lulls most of the band into a semi-relaxed state. Luke and Nate eventually settle down, their arguments about the playlist fading into muffled snores. Vince is slouched in a corner, headphones in, softly humming along to whatever track he’s queuing up for later.

I should be asleep, but my mind refuses to shut down. I miss Sam. But then my mind shifts to worrying about work—venues and setlists. Not to mention the havoc all these small mishaps are causing to my equilibrium. The tension simmers below the surface. I roll over, trying not to think of Sam or work; instead, I just hope to find a comfortable spot so I can drift off to sleep.

Hours later, though it feels like I've barely closed my eyes, the bus shudders violently, jolting everyone awake.

“What the hell?” Luke groans, rubbing his eyes as he sits up.

The driver’s voice crackles over the intercom. “Everyone hang tight—we’ve got a problem. I’m pulling over.”

The bus slows, veering onto the shoulder, and comes to a lurching stop. Outside, the faint glow of dawn highlights a desolate stretch of highway flanked by nothing but trees and shadows. The driver steps off, shaking his head, and a wave of uncertainty ripples through the bus.

I grab my phone and follow Sam as he and Luke head toward the front. Cass is already there, his bus parked behind ours, his brows furrowed. “What’s going on?” Sam asks the driver.

“Looks like we blew a hose,” the driver replies, checking under the hood. “I’ll need to call for assistance, but it’s going to take some time.”

“How much time?” I ask, my voice sharper than I intended.

“Couple hours, minimum. Maybe more, depending on how fast roadside can get out here.”

A sinking feeling settles in my stomach. The schedule is already tight, and this is the last thing we need.

Cass glances at Luke, who confirms. “Yeah, it looks like a busted hose.” Cass nods.

Back on the bus, tension can be felt. Vince grumbles but eventually retreats to his bunk. Nate starts scrolling through his phone, looking for something to pass the time. Luke sits down beside him.

---