“I do tonight.”
“Are you a security guard?” Long lashes fluttered against her cheeks. I wanted to reach out and run a finger along the dusting of sugar that decorated her jawline.
“Something like that. Here, you’ll need this to get in.” I pulled an envelope out of my pocket containing two VIP tickets to the show. Tonight’s concert was the last stop on our U.S. tour. Tomorrow at this time I’d be stuck on a tour bus, halfway back to Nashville.
“Seven o’clock?” She took the envelope but didn’t open it.
“That’s right. See you then?”
“I’ll be there.” She turned to head back into the bakery, but stopped. “Hey, how many people do you work with? I want to know how many buns I should bring.”
I didn’t want to tell her the concert venue had been sold out for weeks and that we were expecting a crowd of fifteen thousand. “Don’t worry about it. The guys will appreciate whatever you show up with.”
“Okay. See you tonight...”
I held out my hand. “By the way, I’m Shane.”
She slid her palm against mine. First, I registered the warmth of her skin. Next, I leaned into the shiver that rolled up my arm.
“It’s nice to meet you, Shane. I guess you heard, I’m Britt.” Her lips split into a broad grin.
I smiled back, relieved that revealing my name hadn’t led to recognition. With five number one hits under my belt over the past two years, it was difficult to go anywhere without being immediately recognized. The other guys in the band loved the fame that accompanied our success. But not me. I’d always been one to hide from the spotlight and being frontman for the country-rock band who’d just taken home top honors at the CMAs hadn’t changed that.
“Yeah, see you tonight.” I gave her hand a final squeeze and took off down the street. If I didn’t get back soon, I’d be late for rehearsal.
“Where the hell have you been?”My manager stood in the foyer of the hotel when I walked in.
“I went for a coffee.” I shrugged him off, not wanting his pissy mood to wipe away the lingering warmth from my interaction with Britt.
“When are you going to listen? You’ve got people for that. Need a coffee? Call room service. Want someone to scratch your balls? I’ll find you a girl.” He nodded toward a small group of fans standing by the elevator. “Take your pick, Shane.”
I glanced at the group of twenty or so fans. One of them saw me and shrieked, causing the rest of them to turn their attention my way.
“Use the service elevator.” He gave me a push toward a door marked “Staff Only.” “I’ll see if I can hold them off.”
I ducked through the door and followed the hall until I reached the kitchen. The hotel manager had shown us how to access the service elevator just in case something like this happened. We’d been on tour for the past four months. Tonight’s show would wrap up our time on the road, at least until our next album came out.
I was looking forward to taking some time off. It was time to get back to Nashville, time to get back to my son. As much as I hated being away, I reminded myself I was doing all of this for him. Sometimes I wondered if it was worth it. But how else was I supposed to make a life for us?
“There you are.” Mickey, the bassist, clapped me on the back when I entered our suite. “Thought you’d run out on us before our last show.”
I could have admitted I was tempted, but I didn’t want to piss off my bandmates. Not when they were all depending on me to secure our next record deal.
“I found the cutest bakery a few blocks over. The owner’s going to bring over some honey buns before the show.”
“Honey buns?” Mickey asked.
“Yeah. Like cinnamon rolls, but made with honey. Reminds me of Sunday morning breakfasts when I was a kid.” If I let myself, I could almost taste the fresh-from-the-oven honey buns Mama Mae used to make. My mouth watered just thinking about it. The buns from the Corner Bakery were the closest thing I’d found to my foster mom’s recipe.
“You’re such a sap.” Mickey cuffed my ear. “You sure it’s just the honey buns you’re after?”
“I suppose she was kind of cute.” My shoulder lifted in a half shrug. Truth was, Britt had caught my attention the first day I walked in. I’d been jogging by, trying to clear my head from the three shows we’d just played in Dallas. One whiff of something fresh from the oven had me taking a detour into the bakery.
She stood there, her light pink apron wrapped around her waist, her hair pulled back in two blonde braids like a schoolgirl. But there wasn’t anything girlish about her. She was all woman. The kind of hips I could hold on to, the kind of curves I wanted to skim my hands over, the kind of mouth that was made for much more than the tentative smile she’d given me.
I hadn’t been able to get her out of my head. So, I’d gone back the next day and the next, trying to work up the courage to talk to her. It wasn’t that I was afraid of her shooting me down. I was afraid of getting attached. I lived the kind of lifestyle that wasn’t conducive to much more than a one-night stand. I could tell by one look that Britt wasn’t that kind of woman.
“Ready to head over to the venue and do a sound check?” Mickey tossed his backpack over one shoulder. “The other guys are already there.”