Crap. The biggest bed? The most sequestered space and it goes to me? This set up isn’t going to endear me to the band. Instead the guys will think I’m a spoiled princess, always needing the best.
“Wait. I can’t sleep back here,” I protest. “This is the biggest room. Give me a bunk. Or the sofa in the front. Heck, I’ll sleep on the floor. Please.” When he doesn’t immediately shut me down, I know he’s wavering. I press harder. “Seriously. If I’m going to spend eight weeks with you guys, treat me like one of the guys.”
“I don’t know.” Davis runs his hand through his hair—an action he does when he’s uncertain or frustrated. “This is Rees’s gig, and he said you should be back here.”
I suck in my lower lip. I hate seeing Davis in any mood other than serene. In the past, the ruffling of his hair was the precursor to more troubling behavior. “Was there something I said”—or you said? I think—“that made him believe I needed this?”
Davis looks everywhere but at me, his guilt on clear display.
I press my palms together, prayer-like. “Davis, you need to get along with these guys and so do I. If this is Rees’s gig, as you say, then he should have this room. I’ll take whatever bunk the rest of your band doesn’t want.”
“Fine. I’ll go get Rees.” Davis stalks off.
I glance around the room again. Is eating snakes really that bad?
Adam appears a minute later. His handsome face looks as angry as it did the other night. “Is there a problem?”
I open my mouth to deliver a firm rebuttal of his plans when my ovaries melt and my knees go weak. Since I’m finally wearing my glasses, every inch of his beautiful frame comes through with perfect clarity. I place a hand against the back of the sofa so I don’t fall over. His big tattooed arms, made strong from all the practice he does, are holding a tiny baby clad in a sunshine-yellow onesie with the words “shit happens” lettered on the back. The forearms flex as he pats one long-fingered, talented hand along the baby’s back.
Those wonderful fingers. They could soothe me anytime. My core tightens. I’m so going to hell for entertaining dirty thoughts while in the presence of a baby! Get your act together, I sternly order myself.
“Is he yours?” I manage to squeak. I’m torn between utter enchantment at seeing him so tenderly hold the baby and dismay that he’s taken. But why wouldn’t he be taken? He’s so damn gorgeous and so damn talented that it’d be crazier if he were single.
Do not sleep with a musician, May chastises me in my head.
“No, this little guy is Ian’s. What’s the problem here?”
“It’s too good for me,” I explain, battling back a wave of unnecessary relief that Adam isn’t taken. “I don’t need this. I’ll sleep in the top bunk over Davis and you or Ian or Rudd can sleep in here.”
“Is that right?” Adam looks over his shoulder to my brother.
Davis shrugs. “I don’t care where she sleeps.”
Adam turns back to me. “You’re sleeping back here, not because I think you’re some precious piece of porcelain that needs to be coddled. You’re back here so the boys can fuck who they want, when they want, without having to worry that you’re going to judge them. Now if you want to sit in front and watch because that’s what gets you off, then be my guest. Otherwise, you’ll sleep here.”
Okay, then. “I’ll sleep in here,” I concede, a blush creeping across my cheeks. “Thank you. I’ll just pay a greater portion of the rent then.”
“Rent?” Adam sounds confused.
Davis props his forearm against the wall and leans his head against it, as if I’m so wearying that he can’t stand upright. “She wants to pay her own way and she wants a job.”
“I’m right here.” I wave my hand. “But, yes, I’m not going to be a leech. I’m paying my own way. Food, gas, shelter. The whole shebang.”
I pull out my wallet. I made Davis stop at the bank before we came, so I have plenty of cash. But instead of taking my money, Adam’s frowning.
“No. You’ll get a per diem like the rest of us. The money that comes in will go toward the gas and paying the driver.”
“Please. I insist.”
“Trust me,” Davis interjects. “She can afford it. And if you don’t take the money from her, she’ll hassle you every spare minute of the day.”
That garners a raised eyebrow from Adam.
I clear my throat. “In college, a friend and I wrote an app and we sold it for a good amount.”
By now, the entire band has crowded into the small hallway outside of this back room.
“What app?”