Page 60 of A Way Out
A soft knock drew his attention to the bathroom doorway, where Maria stood, nervously smoothing the front of her satiny dress. It was champagne colored, the perfect complement to her sun-kissed skin. She’d touched up her lipstick and added chandelier earrings that he wouldn’t be surprised to learn were made with real diamonds.
Real diamonds. The kind he could never afford. Maybe, someday…but right now? No way.
It was yet another reminder of how far out of his league she was.
But then she smiled and he forgot all about their differences, her role in his life. All he could focus on was how beautiful she was, inside and out, and how desperately he did not want to let go of whatever was happening between them.
“Stunning,” he murmured, lifting her hand to brush his lips over the back of it.
Her smile grew in wattage. Because he’d complemented her. Yeah, it was an ego trip.
“I definitely have the two hottest dates to this wedding,” he said, winking at Riley, who giggled.
He escorted them down the stairs, pausing on the third step from the bottom so the photographer could snap pictures. A guy who was working with the caterers whipped out his camera and got off a few clicks before his boss grabbed his arm and gave him a dressing down.
Good. They didn’t want any pictures leaked until tomorrow. Today was for Lacey and Parker and Holly and Sam. Tomorrow, they could return to their regularly scheduled program of attempting to gain publicity and therefore fame.
The wedding planner popped up at his elbow and whisked Riley and Maria away. Oz wandered out to the deck, which had been transformed into a wedding ceremony, complete with white wooden chairs, a center aisle, and a brass arch that was wrapped in heavily scented fresh flowers and greenery.
What had Maria’s wedding had been like? He quickly shook off that thought. Didn’t matter. Now, wondering what sort of wedding she might like in the future, that made a hell of a lot more sense.
But he didn’t need to jump that far ahead. Hell, he wasn’t even sure where they stood at the moment, let alone where they were going. And frankly, he ought to just chill and let it happen. He was already breaking every single one of his rules—if he thought too hard about it, he might convince himself to stop sleeping with her again, and he definitely didn’t want to do that.
He made his way over to the bar and accepted the bottle of beer the tender handed him, taking a cooling drink before a shadow fell across him. He glanced up to find Travis standing there, arms crossed over his chest, a frown cutting deep crevices in his face.
“I don’t like it,” Travis announced.
Oz glanced at the arch, where the wedding planner and the officiant were deep in conversation. “The wedding?” He’d thought Travis had finally come to terms with Lacey and Parker’s relationship.
“You,” he said, stabbing a finger at Oz’s shoulder. “And Maria.”
Oh, right. Oz was pretty sure his bandmate wasn’t aware that he and Maria had hooked up, but he also knew his yearning for her had been as clear as if he’d written it down while he sang “Desire” to her earlier. Hell, he had written it down, hadn’t he?
“It makes me twitchy, mostly because I don’t know her well, but I really like her and I want her to stay on as our publicist. But she’s got a lot of baggage, man.”
Don’t we all?
“I also realize there’s not a damn thing I can do about it, so I need to just keep my nose out of it. Other than to tell you that the song you sang to her definitely needs to go on our next album. It’s next level shit. It’s like Nine Inch Nails and Prince and Chris Isaak all had a love child. And it’s going to pull fans who don’t even like hard rock into our orbit.”
He paused.
“And if it has that much impact on me, I know it’s coming from your soul. I just hope she feels the same way.”
He walked away, down the aisle, and dropped into a seat in the second row. Oz stepped deeper into the shadows cast by the lodge.
He thought Oz’s song was “next level shit.”
He could tell how deeply Oz felt…something for Maria.
And he was worried that Maria might not feel the same.
Damn, that was a lot for Oz to process. And here he’d thought he was simply going to let things happen.
Except they already were, weren’t they?
Cash stepped out of the lodge, dressed in a dapper, fitted suit, wearing sunglasses that probably cost more than the monthly payment on Oz’s mom’s second mortgage. He made his way to the bar, collected a bottle of beer, then spotted Oz.
“Come on, man,” he said, motioning at Oz. “The processional is about to start. We need to take our seats.”
