Dirty Duet (Found in Oblivion Book 3) Page 11

  He was halfheartedly watching the television, but Denver was far more entertaining. She knew every line from the show and explained her extensive love for Luke—the diner owner. Apparently, cranky men turned on women. Certainly explained why Malachi got more chicks than any of them combined. The more rude he was, the harder they clung to him.

  It was a phenomenon West didn’t understand in the least.

  Michael and Ryan were playing some tabletop game that required far too much strategizing for West’s brain. He got bored way too fast.

  “So what’s with the hanger-on?” Denver asked, turning her head so he was the only one who could hear her.

  He hoped.

  “She’s not like that.”

  “Oh, really? No job, no clothes, and semi-hiding from her best friend.” Denver made air quotes on the last phrase.

  Yeah, he wasn’t wild about the last part either. That Ethan guy was way too wound about seeing Lauren with him. In fact, he’d looked a little crazed. Understandable once his true feelings had come out, though West understood worrying about her. Lauren was a little flighty. Actually, she was rather like the star of the show she was watching with the rest of them.

  Not quite as gun-shy about commitment as the lead in the show—at least she didn’t seem guarded like Lorelai. More like she didn’t quite know her place in the world. And she soaked up information from the girls like a sponge.

  She never stopped asking questions. Her often awkward phrasing annoyed Molly—enough that she’d literally walked away from her mid-sentence. He had to hand it to Lauren. She didn’t bat an eye. In fact, West was pretty sure she was used to it.

  Elle, however, thought Lauren was hilarious. Then again, her brother was Nick Crandall. Nearly every word out of his mouth was outlandish.

  “I have a good feeling about her,” West said.

  “Is that a good feeling below the belt, or above?”

  He gave Denver a side-eye. Of course she was focused on the road, so it was mostly wasted. “Sure, I’m into her.”

  “Not yet.” She threw a grin over her shoulder

  “Does everyone know my damn business?”

  Then again, he’d been making out with Lauren right on the couch last night. They hadn’t exactly been circumspect. But Denver had noise-cancelling earphones and a thick curtain she could pull around the driver’s area, and she wasn’t afraid to use them. Often.

  Denver shrugged and braced her wrist on the bottom of the huge steering wheel. “Mal did find you bare-assed with her in your bunk.”

  Modesty had left their bus long ago. “And one would assume the latter.”

  “That girl hasn’t been fucked yet. She’s still too wound up. There’s a chill that happens whether you want more or not.” Her gaze drifted to the rearview mirror.

  Hmm.

  West followed her gaze and tripped over Mal. No way. Mal and Denver would kill each other in a half a second. And not the fun way to go. She’d just put one of her size sixes into his throat then snap his neck.

  He was pretty sure Denver might be capable of it. She was damn scary when she wanted to be.

  She unhooked her big gulp from the cup holder they had fashioned for her. The girl drank tea by the gallon. “Refill me.”

  West slid down onto the couch and changed places with the sun tea container. It had a handy pour spout. She made one overnight without fail and left it in the window to steep. “Do I get some?”

  “I suppose.”

  He grinned and filled hers then his much smaller cup.

  Lauren poked her head up from the magazines. “Whatcha got?”

  “Sun tea.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Sweet tea and you might have had me.”

  He put the cap back onto Denver’s cup and handed it off. “Can I get you something?”

  Lauren nibbled her lower lip. “No, I’m ok.”

  That was code for yes. He stood up and replaced the tea on the seat and buckled it in. Heaven forbid something happen to Denver’s three gallon container.

  “Half hour warning.” Denver raised her voice. “We’re stopping in Portland for a refuel and hour food break. All the girlie types may want to beautify or you know, pee or whatever.”

  “Yes!” Juliet transferred a pile of magazines onto Elle, hopped off the couch, and ran to the back of the bus.

  Elle struggled up and dumped the pile on the couch. “Do not lock me out of that bathroom, Jules!”

  Lauren’s eyebrows went up. He held out his hand to help her out from under the sliding grip of Cosmopolitan, Vogue, HGTv, and W.

  “Are they always like that?” She tugged down his Bowie shirt. Unfortunately, she’d put her damn bra back on.

  “Molly doesn’t know we’re stopping yet. It gets worse.” He led her to the kitchen and pulled down his box. “Need a pick-me-up? We’ll stop and get food when we get off the bus.”

  “No, that’s okay.” As she said, it her stomach rumbled.

  He grinned down at her as he held out a granola bar. “You were saying.”

  She blushed. “Thanks. I’ll pay you back, I promise.”

  “Stop with that, all right? I’m doing okay. I don’t mind playing boyfriend for the next few days.”

  Lauren broke off a corner of the cinnamon and oats bar and nibbled on it. “Boyfriend, huh?”

  He shrugged. “Dating? Dude pays?”

  She smiled around the piece before closing her mouth to finish chewing. “I’ve never had a guy pick up the tab for me. At least not more than once or twice.”

  He knew her situation, but she was far too hot not to date at least. She must have seen his thoughts on his face.

  She finished off the rest of the bar and brushed the crumbs off her fingers over the sink. “I’ve been on a few dates, but rarely with the same guy more than a couple times and I usually insisted on chipping in my share. Even when I’m broke as a joke, like right now.”

  “I think you mentioned something about being between jobs?”

  “Yes. They never seem to last long.”

  He grinned and tugged her closer. “Between clown school and the mortuary, hard to imagine why.”

  “They weren’t bad. I like being challenged.” She looked down at the leather necklace he wore. It was usually under his shirt, but he’d been helping Mal with moving bags under the bus on the last stop. She traced the small brass compass charm on the cord.

  “Why a compass?”

  He shrugged and tucked it back under his shirt.

  “Now there’s a story,” she said as she flattened her hand on his chest over the charm.

  “Maybe for another day.” He laced his fingers at the small of her back. “How many jobs have you had?”

  “I lost count.”

  “Unlikely.”

  She tucked her hair behind her ears. “Forty-seven.”

  He barked out a laugh. “How?”

  “I get fired a lot.”

  He leaned down and kissed her frowning mouth. “They didn’t know what they were missing.”

  “Yeah, well, most places don’t take kindly to me speaking my mind. Either I was too weird, or I got distracted and left in the middle of my shift.”

  “In the middle of your shift?”

  She shrugged. “I saw this dog locked up in the back of a van. Poor thing looked so scared and she had a chain collar with studs.” She shuddered. “No dog needs one of those.”

  He dragged her closer. “No. I agree. So, you’re a dog lover?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Ever had one?”

  She sighed and laid her head against his chest. “Parents wouldn’t allow it.”

  “Allergic?”

  “White furniture.”

  He moved back. “What? Every kid needs a dog.”

  “Did you have one?”

  “Yeah. Ruffles. When I was really young before…well, when I was young there was more room for one.”

  The little wrinkle between her brows returned.

 
He smoothed it out with the pad of his finger. “Ruffles had an awesome life. He was older when I got him.”

  “Aww, you took in a senior dog?”

  He shrugged and cleared his throat. “I didn’t know it at the time. He was muddy and scraggly and barked at anyone that got near him.”

  “Except you?”

  He grinned. “I had a bag of Ruffles. The dog was mad for them. Probably because he was starving, but I didn’t care. As soon as he took the first chip from me, he was mine.”

  She tipped her head up then went onto her toes and kissed him. It wasn’t the first time she’d kissed him, of course, but it was different this time. There wasn’t a calculated gleam in her eyes to figure out what she should do. Or how to do something outrageous. And it made the kiss even more softer and more intense.

  Instead of her arms going up around his shoulders, she snaked her arms around him and dug her fingers into his back pockets.

  He groaned into her mouth and slowly slipped past her lips with his tongue. Her fingers tightened on his ass and he had to hold himself in check. He liked her aggression and wanted to taste more of it.

  “Dude, not in the kitchen,” Ryan muttered and pushed past them.

  West swiped his thumb over his lower lip as he twisted to watch his best friend stride by. Ryan could be surly, but for the most part he was pretty affable. Except lately.

  “He doesn’t like me,” she said resolutely.

  After the comments she’d overheard that morning, West couldn’t blame her for getting that feeling. Ryan’s apology probably hadn’t gone that far either. Denver hadn’t even bothered. She wasn’t mean, but she reserved judgment about new people and when it came to the supposed hookups the band brought on the bus, she lived in mother hen mode until they’d proven themselves.

  That didn’t happen overnight.

  West turned back to her. “He doesn’t know you.”

  “He won’t look at me. Usually means someone doesn’t want to deal with me.”

  West cupped her cheek. “You’ve had a lot of shitty people in your life, huh?”

  She shrugged and slipped out of his arms. “Where did you want to go? Is Denver dropping us at a mall or something?”

  Part of him wanted to drag her back. There was something there, but he had his own dark spots he didn’t want poked. “Malls are dangerous.”

  “Shopping is dangerous?”

  “More that there’s too many people who could recognize us. We’re no Brooklyn Dawn, but we have a steady fan base that’s building.”

  “Yes, you do. I’ve done much research into you guys.”

  He slid his arm around her shoulder and led her down the aisle to the front of the bus. “Is that right?”

  “Yes. Part of my project included researching you thoroughly. I wanted to make sure everything I wrote about was authentic. I actually wrote an algorithm to track your likes on Facebook, Twitter and Snapchat. Your numbers have not leveled off. They increase exponentially.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Exponentially?”

  She nodded sagely. “Yes. It’s impressive actually. I started tracking your numbers and The Grunge—a contemporary band by all estimations.”

  Huh. She really had been researching them.

  “The Grunge has a similar trajectory, but you’ve actually eclipsed them in the last few months. Some of the data is skewed since the lead singer of that band has been in a few legal scrapes, as well as a few stints in rehab. Some find that reason causes a surge of hits on their sites, but their likability actually struggles in the end. Especially since the rehab isn’t for drugs.”

  West dropped onto the seat by the doors. “So, drugs would be good?”

  “Well, there’s a level of support and empathy there, oddly enough. However, Luc Moreau has a different sort of problem.”

  “Do tell.”

  “Sex addict,” Denver shouted.

  West’s gaze swung to their driver. “Are you shitting me?” He focused back on Lauren. “Seriously?”

  Even as he asked the question, a memory tickled the back of his mind. That was how they’d gotten their Fillmore show in December. The Grunge had pulled out because of Luc’s latest rehab stint. Somehow he must’ve forgotten.

  Probably because they’d done a shit-ton of shows since then.

  Lauren nodded. “The amount of womanizing and unruly behavior has brought down their fan base in a remarkable way. I’d assume sex and fans would have the opposite effect, but it seems there is a taboo nature to it that people don’t understand.”

  A twenty-something-year-old dude with sexual problems wasn’t cool. Especially when he was the lead singer.

  They’d had a few run-ins with The Grunge simply because they were on the same label, but West didn’t really know Luc. Lila had been focusing on putting Warning Sign with larger acts instead of using two bands as a double act.

  West much preferred it. It gave them opportunities to tighten their arena shows and a few nights off where they could do smaller concerts with longer setlists. That had helped them figure out which songs would be single-worthy.

  Of course, if Molly had her way, they’d have a show every damn night. She was obsessed with pushing the band forward. He admired her drive and knew she was one of the best damn singers and frontmen—women—of their time. She just kept getting in her own way. He knew she had some awful shit in her past that she was obviously trying to out-run, but in the process she was starting to believe her own hype. As far as West was concerned, that was always dangerous.

  Elle and Juliet jogged down the main aisle on the bus. “Are we almost there?” Jules asked.

  “We have a strip mall with Target, a Chinese restaurant of unknown origin, a Mexican joint that I Googled and would give a thumbs up based on reviews, as well as a pizza joint that may or may not have the best calzones in the county.”

  “You are my hero.” Jules bounced at the mouth of the bus. “I need to get out of here.”

  “What’s got you so riled?”

  “Sexy Skype call with her babes,” Elle said in a singsong voice.

  “How do you handle two penises?” Lauren asked.

  Juliet laughed. “Carefully.”

  “I mean the orifices I get, but isn’t that exhausting?”

  “Okay, that ends that.” West grabbed her pink jacket off the hook and led Lauren off the bus. “We’ll see you guys in an hour.”

  “But I have questions,” Lauren said, glancing toward the fount of sexual knowledge that was their Jules.

  “Some of those questions will require more wine and less pushiness, babe.” He dragged her down the stairs and caught her before she took her ankle out on the last step. “Whoa there.”

  “Shoes of Satan,” she mumbled as she dragged on her jacket.

  He laughed. “Guess we’re going to Target. I need some supplies anyway. And so do you. We’ve got a few full days coming up.” He laced their fingers.

  “We do? And did you call me babe?”

  “I did.”

  “Hmm.” She did her check biting thing again.

  He was going to have to start distracting her when she did that or her cheek was going to be raw. And he had a lot of plans for that delectable mouth.

  “I thought we were just going to your show in San Francisco, then Los Angeles.”

  “That we are, but I have a very important event tomorrow. I think you’ll like it.”

  “What is it?” She clomped awkwardly on the wet pavement behind him.

  He wouldn’t miss the Pacific Northwest’s rain at all. He missed sunshine and the beach. In that order. Instead of answering her, he grabbed a cart and made a beeline for the shoe department as soon as they walked through the front door.

  He tossed a bag of socks into the cart as he walked by. Rainbow colors at the toes and heels. It seemed her.

  “You have got to stop buying things for me.”

  He waggled his eyebrows. “You already promised me oral favors for the last shopping sp
ree. Or did I just imagine that?”

  Chapter Ten

  West sucked in a breath. Shit, he’d just been joking. Hopefully, she wouldn’t get the wrong idea.

  “It can definitely be arranged.” She nodded and crossed her arms under her breasts.

  “Don’t get that look. I don’t expect you to trade sexual favors for a shopping spree. I was kidding.”

  “You should have some sort of compensation, West. I’ll pay you back, but with my lack of current employment prospects, I can’t say when. I promise I will though.”

  “I like buying stuff for you. Besides, you never buy boring shit, so that’s even more fun. I don’t know anyone who has a bowling jacket in that color. Or any color.” Relieved that she didn’t seem to be holding his admittedly skewed sense of humor against him, he wheeled the cart between racks. “I only grabbed it for you because you were cold. I didn’t expect you to actually like it.”

  She tugged the snaps closer together over her chest. “I love my jacket.”

  “It’s adorable.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been called adorable.”

  “Well, get used to it. Now, let’s find you a few pairs of comfortable shoes. We’ll be doing a lot of walking tomorrow. Sneakers?”

  “I’ve been known to wear sneakers.”

  “Good, then you’ll know what to get.” He turned down a shoe aisle and pulled down size tens.

  “You remembered?”

  “I did. Like these?”

  “I, um, I prefer Sketchers.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s easy then. I’m partial to them for hikers myself.”

  She glanced down at his shoes. “Timberlands are not Sketchers.”

  “I haven’t always been able to afford Tims.”

  “Hmm.” She hesitantly grabbed two pairs.

  Once he knew her style, he dragged down two more pairs against her multiple objections and a comfy looking pair of slip-ons for the bus. If she happened to stay longer, she’d be prepared. “Okay, now clothes.” He swung through the ladies department and stopped at bras. “Do you…”

  “You are not buying me bras.”

  “Why not? You can’t wear the same one for days, right? Not that I don’t enjoy the one you’re wearing.”