“Yeah, and I hate it when she does it too, so don’t take it personally.”
I take a sip of my coffee and gag, and he chuckles at my reaction to it.
“What the hell is in this,nitro?”
“Drink it and say thank you.”
“Geesh, thank you.” I take a seat next to him on the edge of the bed and nudge him. “Why are you so grumpy this morning? I’m the one with cymbal crashes going on between my ears.”
“Oh, yeah,” he stands, and I take immediate advantage of the view, my eyes focusing on the natural bulge at his crotch and drifting up to the dark hair partially covering his face as he dips into his pocket before producing a pack of Advil. “Got these for you downstairs, too.”
“Oh, you rock, literally,” I can’t help my laugh at the roll of his eyes as he starts to fight the package. “You truly don’t care about the reviews?”
“It’s not that.”
“Tell me.”
“It’s just . . . personal to me.”
“Okay, I get that.” I shake my head. “Maybe I don’t. You do realize this ispraise.”
“It only truly matters when it comes from the people that matter most to me,” his eyes sweep me, and a shiver runs up my spine, “and from those I respect.”
“It’s just the things they’re saying,” I read his unwavering expression and toss the tablet on the bed. “Fine. You’re no fun.”
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not,” I grin as he opens the package and hands me the pills.
“Thank you,” I say, tossing the pills back and sipping my coffee. “For last night, for putting me up. For all of it. I honestly can’t wait for the show tonight.”
“I read your article,” he completely throws me off guard, “about that couple from Houston who got lost on vacation in Australia.”
I gape at him as he leans against the dresser opposite the bed.
“You read my article?”
He nods. “Yeah, and honestly, I’m relieved. You write so much fucking better than you speak.”
I glower at him. “Many writers do, jerk, and I don’t know whether to slap you or . . .”
He lifts a brow at option two, which I decide not to verbalize.
“I could feel their desperation,” he adds thoughtfully, “because of how you wrote it. It’s pretty miraculous how after two days of panicking and arguing, they said ‘fuck it’ and adapted to their surroundings to survive until they were rescued.”
“And they were on the verge of divorce,” I grin. “It’s crazy how it didn’t push them over but brought them back together.”
“That’s my favorite part,” Easton relays softly.
“Maybe there’s a song in there?”
He nods.
“Well, I’m flattered, Mr. Rock Star.”
“Stop with that shit. I’ll let you shower.” He walks over to the door, and I call out.
“Hey, you’re kind of hard to gauge this morning. Areweokay?”