Freddie’s sharp swivels to Griff. “The label explicitly specified you don’t fight. But they said nothing about working out hurt feelings within the band. And Brian ... your cousin, he has tended to be a—”
“Sleazebag,” Alabama interjects.
Griff chuckles.
Freddie stares. If there’s a hint of a smile on her lips, Alabama can’t discern it. The woman’s locked tighter than Fort Knox. “Yes. Well. You said it smashingly, Alabama. I always thought he was a bit dodgy.”
Alabama and Griff glance at each other, confused. Griff makes a gesture of impatience. “What’re you sellin’, Freddie?”
“It’s what we in the business call a loophole. The label won’t put you down, Griff. Not for this.” She stands, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle from her skirt. “Seeing as how I didn’t come all the way out here to witness two hotheaded males butt heads like baboons, I now have good news.” Freddie smiles. “Things are looking good for you, Griff. And you, Alabama.” She pauses for effect. Then, “The tour’s sold out.”
Alabama’s mind whirls; she’s shell-shocked by the news. She squeezes Griff’s hand. “That’s ... amazing.”
Griff’s gaping. “Since when?”
Freddie flaps a hand. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Griff. The remaining two weeks you’re on tour, we’re switching venues. Bigger, bolder, less beer-splattered venues.” Before either of them can react, she goes on. “And I come bearing more good news. A winter tour. Europe.”
It’s Alabama’s turn for her jaw to drop. Holy shit. Holly’s gonna go crazy.
“Fuck,” Griff says, equally stunned.
“You’ve done well, Griff. And there is one more thing.” Freddie swirls a finger around Alabama and Griff. “The press will want to know—are you two an item?”
For a heartbeat, silence.
Beside her, Griff’s gone still. Alabama’s very aware he’s waiting for her to answer. He’s made it clear where he stands, and now it’s her turn to decide.
But is this really what she wants? To give her and Griff another shot? Can she trust that the man who left her once won’t leave her again?
Alabama tries to control her emotions, tries to tell herself that what’s between her and Griff is still casual, that her feelings aren’t deep and dangerous and all kinds of conflicting.
She looks up at Freddie. “Yes,” she says quickly. Then amends, “We’re sleepin’ together.”
“I see,” Freddie says.
Griff stares at her, his Adam’s apple bobbing. She can see he doesn’t agree with how Alabama’s phrased it, but he finally turns to Freddie, confirming what Alabama’s said. “That’s right.”
“Very good,” she says tartly. “I’ll alert the social media manager and fill in for Brian until we find a replacement.” Then Freddie’s eyes alight on Griff. “We’re pleased, Griff. You’ve done everything we’ve asked you to.” Her lips curve in a twisting, knowing smile. “And then some.”
Beside Alabama, Griff’s spine goes stiff, his face paling considerably.
With a nod, Freddie exits the bus.
For a long moment, Griff and Alabama stare at each other speechless, processing the whirlwind of information laid on them.
Then the bus rumbles to life, jolting them into action.
Griff exhales and sits back against the couch, slapping his hands on the knees of his jeans. Alabama lets out a bright burst of laughter and collapses against him, burying her face in his chest. When she lifts her face, she’s met by Griff’s sweet kiss.
“So we’re sleepin’ together?” he says, arching a brow when they finally pull away.
Alabama smooths her fingers over the rings he wears. The metal cool and cutting. “Let’s just stick to what we decided.”
His eyes flash. “And what’s that?”
“Casual.”
“Casual, huh?” His eyes scan hers, as if seeking something else. As if disagreeing with her completely.