Page 25 of Derailed
A loud cough clears the quiet patio and a man steps from the shadows.Shit.Coy’s going to be livid—more so than he already is. The man isn’t a stranger, though. It’s Sean, and I’m not sure if it makes things better or worse. Embarrassment washes over me anew and I drop my gaze to the pattern in the stonepavers.
“Everything okay out here?” Seanasks.
“Just fine.” Coy turns to block my body from view and lets loose a relaxed chuckle. “Sneaking some one-on-one time with my girl before we goon.”
The silence stretches between the men like some sort of standoff. God, I pray Coy’s bandmate didn’t overhear our conversation. While I’m thankful for the intrusion, the retribution I’ll pay later for his embarrassment won’t be worth this shortreprieve.
“Did you need something, Sean?” Coy’s voice holdschallenge.
“They need you. Some label execs want to meet thenewestdrummer. They’re in the greenroom.”
“Cool, man.” Coy turns to wrap me in his arms. He pulls me flush with his front and drops his lips to my ear. To the average observer his gesture appears sweet, affectionate, and loving. But I know better. This is a warning. “Cover those tits or don’t bother coming back inside.” He backs away and I can’t help but cross my arms over the front of my dress, slinking back closer to the rod ironrailing.
I need to leave. I need to change. I’m such afuckup.
Coy strides to where Sean holds the door leading back into the ballroom. He steps through, but when Sean doesn’t follow he turns, cocking his chin in question. “You coming,man?”
“Nah, I need a smoke. Besides, those reporters don’t wanna talk to me. I’m old news. They want you, man. Go. Enjoy thespotlight.”
Coy stares at Sean, and for a moment I fear he’ll refuse to leave without him. I know he doesn’t want anyone to see me and what an embarrassment I am. His eyes flick over to where I stand and then meet Sean’s with a forced smile. “Cool, man. See youinside.”
The door closes with a thud. Sean moves to walk in my direction but I turn away. The night isn’t freezing but a chill works its way up my spine at being left alone with a man who is not Coy. It was bad enough this morning, but now Sean gets to witness first hand my poor choice in clothing. I want his approval. Not that Sean would be attracted to me or that I want him to be. He’s too successful and famous to look twice at a woman like me. Besides, I’m with Coy. I want Sean to like the dress because he so generously offered his money for the shopping spree and I feel as though I’ve let him down, too. I’m also overly conscious of the fact my girls are on full display and what a tease I must look like, showing up to this fancy event so inappropriatelydressed.
His footsteps approach but I train my eyes on the edge of the horizon, where the fog rolls in along with thetide.
“Cold?” He slides out of his coat jacket, stands at my side, and holds it out to me. He’s far enough away that he has to stretch his arms to their full length, almost as if he wants me to turn and look at him. His hand is covered in tattoos, all the way to where his wrist disappears into the cuff of his black dressshirt.
I fight the urge to meet his gaze, instead directing my eyes back out to the night. I shake my headno.
He waits a moment and I wonder whether he’s lingering in case I change my mind. I’ve already made a fool out of myself—and out of Coy—and my boyfriend won’t be pleased if I walk back indoors wearing another man’s coat. Sean places the jacket back on and I sneak a glance at his profile. He pats around his pockets and I guess it’s for a lighter. Surprising, since I’ve never seen him smoke, but he did tell Coy that’s what he came out herefor.
He pulls out a baggy and when I realize what it is, I almost laugh. Scooping a handful of trail mix, he pauses before putting it in his mouth, and turns his chin to catch my stare. His lips pull into a warm smile. “Sorry, I’m always hungry.” He tosses the food in his mouth and crunches before holding the bag out tome.
“Oh, no, thank you.” I can’t believe he’s packing trail mix. Not only is this a swanky event with tons of free food being offered on polished silver platters, but he’s a famous bad boy rocker . . . smuggling snacks. IfPeopleever got hold of this they’d have it in a full page spread. Probably up the sales of trail mix across the nation. At that I dogiggle.
He laughs and cocks his head. “What? I get hungry. I always come prepared.” He winks and I don’t know why, but my mind automatically assumes he’s making a sexual reference. I remember his bare chest this morning all glistened with sweat.Is he really always prepared when he comes?I’m horrible, and my skin heats with further embarrassment for thinking about Sean likethat.
He crunches on a few more handfuls of food, shifting so his back leans against the rail until the food is gone. He rolls his neck. “God, I hate these things.” He shiftsuncomfortably.
“Charity galas?” Curiosity gets the best of me. This man, the entire band, has ignited an unnatural interest. I sneak another glance as his mouth pulls up in asmirk.
“No, smartass. Dress clothes.” He lets loose a gravellychuckle.
Twisting to study his face better, I lean my hip on the railing and face him. His smile, a little wicked and even more genuine, pulls my own lips into a grin. “Me, too,” Iadmit.
“What? Not possible.” He shakes hishead.
“Why? Only guys are allowed to hate dressing up? Sexist much?” I delight in the smile that stretches his lips wide. “I’m more of a jeans and T-shirtgirl.”
“My kinda girl.” A little thrill bubbles up with his words and while I should avert my gaze, I can’t help but delight in watching his face as he takes me in, an unhurried perusal that begins at my shoes and ends when he reaches my stare. “You look gorgeous tonight. You knowthat?”
At his words my smile falters and I remember just how I look, along with Coy’s stinging words. I turn back to thelandscape.
“Youdoknow that,right?”
I don’t know how to answer Sean without my insecurity creeping into my voice so I ignore his question. He scuffs his heel on the railing and pushes off, taking a few steps forward and letting the empty plastic bag drop to the ground. Thank goodness. He’s going to leave and I can forget hiskindness.
“Jessica.” My name falls from his lips with such urgency, I have to turn and meet his gaze. His eyes, the irises brown and almost molten, cause my pulse to quicken, but he offers a sincere and kind smile. “You look beautiful tonight. You’re as pretty in jeans and a T-shirt, too, but you need to know these socialites don’t hold a candle to your beauty.” He holds my gaze and I can’t look away. I can’t breathe. I can hardly think. Not with his compliment holding me immobile. The way he speaks, with so much conviction, I almost believe him.Almost.
