Page 120 of Play Dirty (Brooklyn Dawn 1)

Although what kind of threat was a phone call? It was probably just a wrong number. But I would most likely change my number just the same.

Better safe than sorry.

When we got back to the hotel, Jamie was getting bitchy because she hadn’t been fed—again. The girl needed a damn trough.

“I want the biggest burger they can make,” she said as she disengaged the locks to our room.

And I wanted the biggest bubble bath. Maybe we’d both get what we wanted.

“Holy shit. You must have epic fucks. Look at that I’m sorry. Too bad he loses points for originality.”

“What are you…” I lost my breath. “Wow.”

In the middle of the coffee table, there was the largest vase of roses I’d ever seen. Long-stemmed deep red ones with little sterling silver buds tucked in amongst the dark leaves. The arrangement was stark and over the top without even a touch of baby’s breath to soften it.

Bold and jagged like Alex in every way.

“He doesn’t know you aren’t into roses?”

Normally, I wasn’t, but this wasn’t a typical arrangement. There had to be fifty roses in the bundle with who knew how many sterling ones.

I couldn’t resist the pull of them. I slid my fingertip along the largest bloom. There were still thorns on the stems. I smiled. So freaking Alex.

The card tucked in with the flowers made my smile widen.

I know you’ll be lovely tonight. As always.

A

That was his slashing writing. I knew it well. I had it bleeding all over the pages of my songbook.

I pressed the card to my lips and the hint of his clean scent still clung to it. Not a print out of his handwriting. He’d actually written the card.

Suddenly, tonight’s show wasn’t going to be such a hardship.

Hell, now he actually deserved the surprise I’d been holding on to.

I opened the email with the extra video I’d put on my personal account. The one of “Dream On” that showed me on display for the world, and yet secretly only for one man.

Him.

Dammit, it felt like some days were always for him.

And that was scary as hell. Yet I still sent it. The whooshing telltale sound of the email flying into the ether nearly made me shudder.

Such a big step. Would he even realize the courage it had taken for me to send that? Would he care?

I followed it up with a text, not expecting a reply.

Maybe that was the way to handle this. And him. No expectations. Just enjoyment of the moment.

Whatever it brought.

Twenty-Four

Twelve cities in fourteen days was probably a new personal best. Not that best was the word I would use at the moment.

I dragged myself to the dressing room and dropped onto the sofa, completely wrung out. The show that night had been amazing, but only because there was an internal switch in my brain when it came to stage time. I knew I was on the last of my personal battery cells. I’d dug deeper than usual to find the energy for the encore. And the crowd here in DC could have taken a good three more songs without complaint.

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