Page 31 of Play Dirty (Brooklyn Dawn 1)

I wasn’t sure which one was the real me.

Maybe neither. Maybe I was still figuring myself out.

As for him? I wasn’t going to go there.

I twirled on my booted heel and stalked out of the room.

“You didn’t even talk to me about this?” Nash’s raspy, Irish-tinged voice filled the air.

All my mixed

up emotions arrowed into disgust. For an instant, he might’ve seemed like the fascinating guy from the festival, but the obnoxious edge to his tone echoed exactly how he’d been in the dim little bar.

Biting and nearly cruel.

My nipples tingled at the memory. Why the hell that should turn me on, I had not one clue. I didn’t even understand that girl from a handful of years ago. The one who had followed that danger into the corner. Even with the obvious anger coming off him in waves, I’d chased it. Chased him. And then I’d run like a coward.

“Fuck.”

“Oh, that’s not good.”

I turned toward Bella’s voice. I winced and glanced around.

“Don’t worry, the kids are at a playdate.”

I shut my eyes. “Sorry.”

“A bit early for wine, but this will help.” She held out a bottle of flavored water.

“Thanks.” I cracked the seal and took a long sip. I really wished it was infused with vodka instead of Honey Crisp apples. First class in an overnight flight and a ninety-minute drive with a perfectly comfortable car service could not combat the fact that I’d crossed far too many time zones.

My stomach said wine, even if my watch said morning. It was going to be a hell of a long day. Jet lag lured me into wanting to find my guest room, but it would be a mistake. Especially if I was expected to sing at all tomorrow or tonight.

Probably tomorrow.

God, I hadn’t even asked if the song was already written.

I slumped into a chair at the dining room table.

“Hungry?”

I slid my hand over my twisting belly. “Not sure.”

“Been there. I can’t believe Logan dragged you here from Hawaii.” She moved to the fridge and pulled out eggs. “Actually, I can’t believe you came.”

I took another long drink from my bottle. Flying always dehydrated me. I’d need to drink my weight in water and dip myself in a vat of lotion after I showered off my flight. “Moment of weakness, obviously.”

“He knows he can always count on you.”

I waved her off. It was hard to find people in the industry who were true friends. The Kings were among the few I’d do anything for. Well, other than my band, of course. Logan’s wife and I got along very well. We’d downed more than our fair share of wine together over the years, commiserating over the stupidity of males and the unrelentingly vicious press that chased both of us.

Her, because of her famous husband and the drama that had unfolded in Winchester Falls a few years ago. Me, because my life was lived in front of a camera, whether I liked it or not.

But she also knew me too well.

Not like Jamie, not like the rest of my band. But well enough for me to wince and try to shut down the reactions probably flashing over my stupid face. I was usually better at hiding my emotions. Winchester Falls had something in the air that always allowed me to forget about the invisible barrier I cloaked myself in all the other days of my life.

Here, I didn’t have to be on. I could just be me.

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