Page 99 of Stormswept Colorado

“I didn’t really. I guessed. You just confirmed it.”

“Bullshit. You knew he calls himself ‘Biggest Fan.’ Don’t play games. How did you know?”

Names flew through my mind. Could Ricky or Cheryl have whispered something in his ear? They’d been there at the concert venue in Toronto when I first got the flowers. But a lot of other people had too. Nobody knew about the emails or the flowers I’d received in Hartley…right?

I hated that I could never fully trust my industry friends. Always had that inner doubt.

Paul let go of my arm, but cornered me against the wall. “It’s my job to be aware of what’s happening with my artists. You could’ve come to me. I just want to be here for you.”

“It’s not your business.”

Paul’s fingers squeezed on their way down my arm. “Ayla, why are you being so difficult about this? We could be good together. If you just stop fighting it and give this a chance.”

For a moment, I was so shocked I couldn’t even respond. This guy was such a stereotype of a toxic Hollywood male. Like he had no idea what a sad, tired cliché he was. I wasdonewith it.

He chose that moment to lean in, puckering his lips.

I slammed my knee into Paul’s crotch. His eyes bugged. He made a high-pitched squeak and slumped into the nearest wall.

“Those creative differences can be rough, can’t they? Come near me again, and I’ll creatively separate your balls from your body.”

Texting Bryan to pick me up, I marched for the nearest exit.

THIRTY-TWO

Teller

Breathe,I told myself. I shifted into downward dog, feeling the muscles in my shoulders bunch and my hamstrings stretch.

I’d been doing yoga for about a year and a half. I still felt uncoordinated. This didn’t come naturally to me, unlike running five miles in my sleep or banging out deadlifts. After my injuries, I’d worked my ass off to get fit again. Though I couldn’t do as many pull-ups as when I’d been in the Army, given my shoulder.

Yoga was not my favorite thing. But tonight, I needed all the help I could get with staying calm.

Ayla was at that event with Paul, and I didn’t like it. After everything she’d told me about him, plus my impressions from meeting him in Hartley, I didn’t trust him.

Didn’t help that I’d already seen photos online of them arriving together. His hand on her back like he thought he had some claim on her.

Fuck, why had I even looked at social media?

As if I could’ve stayed away. That algorithm had me figured out. My feed was all Ayla Maxwell, all the time.

I was no stranger to being away from the woman I cared about. Deployments had taught me patience on that front. But this thing with Ayla was a whole new experience. Seeing her in themedia with another guy. It was surreal. My heart didn’t understand why I couldn’t just be there. Telling the label exec to take his sleazy hands off her.

And then I would wrap her up in my arms and kiss her and make sure she had everything she needed. Show her what I felt. Because my craving for her was getting extreme. It was difficult for me to think of anything else.

Especially at a time like this, when I was supposed to be focused on yoga breathing and staying in the moment, when instead I couldn’t stop wondering what Ayla was doing right now.

I shifted into one of the warrior poses. If only this could give me some clarity.

I fell out of the pose when my phone rang. Grabbing for it, my excitement dulled when I saw it wasn’t Ayla. And then guilt washed in.

“Hey, Piper. You okay?”

“Why do you think something’s not okay?”

“Because you never call me in the evening unless you have a problem.”

A pause. “Oh my gosh, you’re right. I suck.”

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