Page 44 of Wild and Bright

“I don’t like the EQ on my guitar,” I say into the mic, and it echoes across the arena. “Roll off some of the bottom end.”

“Got it,” the sound engineer says.

I lower my guitar and pull my phone from the back pocket of my jeans.

3:23. God, will sound check ever end?

“She texted me a minute ago and said she’s boarding her flight.”

Hunter’s voice makes me jump, but I keep my eyes fixed on my phone.

“What was that look for?” he asks.

Heat creeps into my neck when I realize I’m clenching my jaw. This is so incredibly stupid. A month with her, and I’ve fully reverted to the obsessed and horny teenage boy who’s jealous of a fucking text. This isn’t healthy.

She isn’t good for me.

“Nothing,” I say. “I’m just in a bad mood.”

In the worst mood, actually. It occurred to me that I’ll be introducing her to all kinds of people in our industry tonight, people who have a lot to offer a single mother. And while Lauren may not be the most conventionally gorgeous woman in the world, she’s got something…

She sparkles.

And she’s in danger of catching someone else’s eye. How can I stop her? She’s not technically my girlfriend. It’s fair to expect fidelity for the next five months. It’s not fair to keep her locked away from the rest of the world like I wish I could.

And what’s going to happen when this is all over? It’s been hard enough these last few years after moving away from Coronado knowing she was out there doing who knows what. I knew she’d be touched and kissed and fucked and maybe even loved by people who weren’t me, and as much as I hated the thought of it, I was mostly okay because I knew it was for the best.

Now the thought is unbearable.

Lauren

An electric thrill runs through my body as I pull my suitcase from the overhead cabinet.

Though my anger will return in full force when I see my beautiful, jealous control freak, I can’t help but enjoy this moment. Here I am exiting a first-class flight to visit my rich and famous sugar daddy, and he flew me out here because he couldn’t go two days without touching me.

I feel like I’m floating as I walk along the endless conveyer belt, which is probably mostly thanks to the three flutes of champagne I downed on that two hour and twenty-minute flight. As soon as I make it to the arrivals lobby, I pull out my phone and text the driver Brayden scheduled for me. I have a driver. Not an Uber, but a driver.

Howard—the driver—texts back, telling me to meet him on the sidewalk near the Delta baggage claim. As I roll my suitcase outside, my phone buzzes again, and when I lift it up, a jolt of electricity shoots into my belly at the sight of Cam’s name.

Cam: Where the fuck are you?

I smile slowly.

Me: There was traffic on the runway in San Diego, so it took forever to take off.

Cam: We’re performing in an hour. Don’t linger.

I gulp back a laugh. He’s angry already, and I didn’t even have to try. If only he knew what’s in store for him tonight.

When I spot the black Audi, I wave at the man with the white beard in the driver’s seat. He immediately exits the car and grabs my suitcase. “Hi there, Lauren.” He pops the trunk and sets my suitcase inside. “Did you have a nice flight?”

“Hell yeah.” I open the passenger door. “I drank the whole time.”

He chuckles. “That’s the only way to fly.”

After I slide inside the car, I pull out my phone.

Me: I’ll get there as soon as I can.

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