Page 10 of Play Fast (Brooklyn Dawn 2)

For a hot second,

I’d had her curvy body pressed against me while she checked me for fever. She was built in ways I’d probably never get out of my head. When I jacked my own dick in the shower tonight, I’d be thinking of her full tits and worse, so much worse, those pleading blue eyes that had always asked me for far too much.

“Fuck.” I dropped Annette on the chair and immediately regretted it. As if she was a sentient being, I picked her up again and rubbed my hand over the battered midnight blue painted wood, circling my thumb over the pinprick yellow stars and sliver of a canyon moon.

This guitar was the embodiment of the times I felt most at peace—out alone in the woods in the dark, sitting by a campfire, woodsmoke stinging my eyes while crickets chirped and cicadas buzzed. Off in the distance, a lone coyote howled or an owl hooted while I played my guitar and pretended I loved having no one to share my happiest moments with.

I loved the solitude. I also hated it with a passion. Sometimes I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts. Sometimes I wished someone was there to sing bad songs with me and roast marshmallows and sleep in my too small sleeping bag when I roughed it in a tent.

Somehow the loneliness wasn’t as obvious in my cabin. The King-sized bed didn’t feel too big for me because I was a huge motherfucker. Out on the wraparound deck with a beer and Annette, I could pretend my party of one was all I’d ever wanted.

It wasn’t as if I didn’t have friends. Or hell, my bandmates. I could’ve made some calls and had the place filled in a few hours, not counting travel time. But loneliness wasn’t only about bodies filling a space. Only the right ones—one—made any difference.

And I wasn’t dwelling on any of this tonight.

Still carrying Annette, I pushed aside my backpack and searched around for my keys. I’d tossed them here, I was sure of it. A search behind the chair didn’t help. Then I remembered Daisy jingling as she left. With my keys.

“Fucking Daisy,” I muttered, grabbing for my phone.

Except I didn’t have her number. Of course I didn’t. What kind of game was she playing?

I hit the speed dial for Lila. She answered on the second ring. “Osmond?”

I winced. Only Lila, man. I hadn’t even told her my full name. She must’ve snagged it off my tax documents or something, for fuck’s sake. “Yeah. I need Daisy’s number.”

“Daisy Flannigan?”

I yanked the bottle of whisky out of my pocket and zipped it into my backpack for later needs. “Do we have another Daisy I missed?”

“No. If a lady wants you to have her number, she will provide it. Have a good night.” She clicked off before I even had time to curse.

Even so, I had to grin. That was Lila for you. I couldn’t even say I blamed her. It was probably a good policy, but maybe I should’ve mentioned I was pretty sure the little wench had stolen my keys.

I still couldn’t figure out why.

I was mean as hell to her most of the time. The rest I ignored her. For good reason. She looked at me a lot, as if she was trying to figure out what was going on in my head, or worse, analyzing my behavior.

Like that whole friend comment. I must be giving off a vibe.

Then again, I’d just been thinking about being isolated and shit in the woods, but who could blame me? When a hot as fuck chick wiggled against me, of course I was going to start thinking about not wanting to spend the night alone. She was sexy. It wasn’t because she was Daisy, or because we had a past. Definitely not because I’d had to practically tape my hands to my own ass to keep from touching her when she’d been barely jailbait.

She was off-limits. She had been when Kerry was alive, and nothing had changed now that my sister was gone.

It was just as well I couldn’t contact her, especially not in my current mood. But I still had that pesky little issue of not having my keys. I’d intended to head up to the cabin tonight, and I had a long ride ahead of me as it was when I was already exhausted. We had another show in town next week. Time was wasting. I didn’t have the patience to play games with my mischievous sprite.

I rubbed my forehead. Fuck, her shorts should be banned. That woman was not mine.

Had never been. Would never be.

Regardless, I wasn’t going to find my keys standing around. I had to find Daisy.

Obviously, that was what she wanted. Unless she just enjoyed messing with me. Could be either one.

Besides, how hard could it be to find one 5’5 blond covered in sparkles?

As it turned out, actually pretty hard.

I searched all over the damn venue. High, low, and a dozen spots in between. I ran into fans who squealed and hung off me as if I was their own personal funhouse attraction. I signed posters and posed for selfies and was offered alcohol, baggies of pills, and breasts in equal measure.

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