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  “Ready.”

  We both dive under and resume our positions facing each other. Paige’s black hair floats around her head like a cloud. Her skin looks paler under the water, the red of her lipstick bright against her face as she holds her breath.

  “baaahwl zec.”

  “What?” I call back.

  She repeats herself but I’m no closer to understanding her.

  I shake my head, totally lost. My chest is starting to get tight; I’m going to need to surface soon.

  “Bahl zec!”

  Did she just say ball sack? “Ball sack?” I call back and she nods, giving me a thumbs up.

  I snort with laughter, pulling in a bug gulp of water as I do so. I kick my way to the surface, gasping for air and laughing at the same time.

  “Sorry!” she calls, her head bobbing up next to mine. “Are you okay?”

  “I cannot believe you just said ball sack,” I manage to say over my laughing and coughing.

  “You guys were saying gross stuff!”

  “And that was the worst you could come up with? That’s freaking hilarious, Paige.”

  She grins at me triumphantly. “Does that mean that I won?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She throws her arms up into the air. “I won! I’m the winner!”

  I’m pretty sure I’m going to drown, I’m laughing so hard. There’s just something so inexplicably hilarious about her using that kind of language when she comes across as so sweet and innocent. I think about the way she often dresses, in black leather and hot pink, and her eyebrow ring and nose ring. Paige is a study in contradictions, it would seem.

  She slaps my back a few times to try to stop my coughing. “All right, let’s get out of here before I’m blamed for drowning the drummer of the world’s greatest rock band.”

  I follow her from the water, doing my best not to stare at her ass clad in red cherries. I don’t want to piss Daisy off by leering at her friend, hot as she might be.

  I fill up a plate with a burger, a hot dog, a mess of pasta salads and coleslaw, and join Lennon and Cash at one of the patio tables. “What do you think about jet skis this afternoon?” Lennon asks around a mouthful of potato salad.

  “I think you’re disgusting and you should shut your mouth while you’re eating.”

  He grins broadly, showing off more of his mouthful. “Sure thing, Dad.”

  Cash ignores him entirely, turning to me instead. “Apparently the guys at the resort can arrange to bring some jet skis over. They can take us out on a tour or just let us ride around in this area.”

  I swallow. “Yeah, that sounds good, I guess.”

  “You guess? Way to sound enthusiastic, man.”

  From one of the other tables I hear Paige let out a loud squeal about something and grin to myself. She’s probably enthusiastic enough for everyone present.

  “No, jet skis sound good,” I say, trying to inject some positivity into my voice.

  “Hell, yeah, they do,” Cash says, pointing a fork at me. “So, you’d better stop moping.”

  I hold up my hands in surrender. “I’m mope-free.”

  On the other side of the patio, Paige laughs and I can’t help but grin again. It’s such an infectious sound.

  “Definitely mope-free.”

  Chapter Five

  Paige

  After dinner, Cash arranges for the house staff to set up a massive bonfire on the beach for our party.

  “It’s a good night for this,” I remark to Karen as we make our way across the lawn towards the beach. I can see the flames of the fire already jumping around in the darkening sky.

  She links her arm through mine. “Definitely. There’s not a single cloud up there.”

  I look up to the indigo sky, stumbling a bit over a divot in the lawn. Karen’s right—an inky darkness is spreading down towards the horizon and already a few stars are visible.

  “There you are,” Daisy calls from the beach, her figure obscured by the gathering darkness. “I thought you were right behind me. Where’d you go?”

  “We stopped back in the room to grab sweatshirts,” I explain as we join her on the beach, the sand still warm from the earlier rays of sun.

  “Yeah, we don’t all have hot rock star boyfriends to keep us warm after the sun goes down,” Karen adds.

  The hot rock star in question is already sitting on a low Adirondack chair in front of the fire. His brothers are there too, Lennon sitting cross legged in the sand, Reed and Cash as well as several of their friends and the guys from Roadside lounging in assorted beach chairs or leaning against a piece of driftwood someone pulled over. I’m not at all surprised to see the guitar cases leaning against their chairs but I feel a rush of excitement all the same. I love when the boys play in a casual setting like this.

  “Hey, ladies,” Cash calls as we approach. “What’re you drinking? Beer good?”

  We all agree, so he hands us icy bottles of Corona from a cooler by his feet. “There is a distinct lack of females here, Cash,” Karen says, squinting around at the small crowd by the fire. “What on earth will you do with yourself?”

  “Well, you’re here, aren’t you?” he asks, giving her that big cocky rock star grin of his. There was a time when such a statement—let alone a blood-pressure raising grin like that—would have sent Karen into a stuttering, star struck mess. Tonight she just laughs, slapping him lightly on the shoulder as she makes her way to one of the unoccupied chairs on the far side of the fire. I notice that the cute guy—Pat something—from Roadside that she’d been flirting with by the pool earlier is in that general vicinity and smile to myself.

  I join Daisy on the sand by Daltrey’s chair. He’s talking to Lennon but automatically reaches his hand down to play with her hair the moment we come near. The naturalness of the gesture, the intimacy of it, makes my heart constrict a bit. They’re so attuned to each other, as if they’re inherently aware of where the other is and what they’re doing. I’ve never had that with any of my previous boyfriends.

  I tilt my head back against a nearby bench, watching the stars come out as the ebb and flow of conversations swim around me. What is it about spending the day in the sun that makes me feel so tired? I haven’t been particularly active, but I feel like I could close my eyes and fall right to sleep, in spite of the noise of the group.

  Over the sounds of conversation, I hear a few soft strums of guitar—the opening chords of Murder in the City by the Avett Brothers. I abandon my view of the stars and look toward the sound, immediately locking eyes with Reed. He gives me a small smile over his guitar and I grin back. Soon Cash also has his guitar in hand, joining his brother as the chords build toward the first line of song.

  Daltrey’s voice cuts through the warm night air, clear and low. I can’t help the little shivers that run up my arms at the sound. It’s pure Rock God, that voice. The kind of voice that makes thousands of girls crazy with yearning.

  All the conversation around the fire ceases immediately. I can feel a little thrum of energy flow through the group, as if everyone in the vicinity is straining toward the source of that sound, captivated, trying to get just a bit closer. It’s the same feeling I’ve sensed in crowds all over the country when the boys were on tour. Whether performing for tens of thousands or a mere ten, Daltrey’s voice has the same effect.

  There’s a moment of silence when he finishes, and I sense, rather than hear, more than one wistful sigh. Then the boys, as if by some unspoken agreement, move right into Black Water by the Doobie Brothers. This time his brothers join in on the vocals with Daltrey. I see him nudge Daisy with his knee. She smiles up at him before opening her mouth to join the song, poking my shoulder so that I’ll sing, too.

  It goes on like that for a while, the boys moving seamlessly through an eclectic mix of classic rock, blues, current hits, and their own songs. By the time Cash sets his guitar to the side, night has fully fallen over the beach. Someone brought a CD player, and they turn that on in lieu of the l
ive music, while someone from the resort brings down supplies to make s’mores.

  As I stand with Karen and Lennon around the rim of the fire to roast marshmallows, my eyes drift, once again, to Reed. I try to tamp down the thought that this is happening more and more on this vacation—the covert glances in his direction. It’s just because you know he’s sad, I tell myself. I’ve never been good at standing by silently when someone I care about is sad.

  I take my golden brown marshmallow from the fire and Karen makes a face at me. “How do you always manage to get them so perfect?”

  I raise my eyebrow at her roasting stick—at the end of which is her marshmallow, engulfed in flames. “Because, I don’t get impatient after twenty seconds and then stick mine right in the fire.”

  She curses and pulls the marshmallow from the flames, frantically blowing on it as I laugh and head over to the little picnic table where the rest of the s’more fixings are laid out. As I build my treat, I once again find my eyes on Reed. He alone hasn’t gotten up to make a s’more. Instead, he’s turned his chair slightly away from the group and appears to be staring out at the jet-black waves of the ocean.

  I sigh a little, knowing I’m not going to be able to relax until I know he’s okay. I grab a napkin and head over to his chair, holding out the s’more without a word.

  He looks up at me, eyebrows raised. “What’s that?”

  “It’s a s’more, Reed,” I explain slowly. “That’s the yummy treat you make when you combine toasted marshmallows with chocolate and graham crackers. It’s called a s’more, see, because everyone always wants some more—”

  “Ha ha.” He shakes his head at me but I can detect a hint of a smile at his mouth. For some reason it gives me a warm, proud feeling, that little upturn of his lips. “I meant, why are you giving it to me? I saw you spend all that time getting your marshmallow just right.”

  I try to tamp down the little flutter in my chest at the thought of him watching me without me knowing. “You looked like you could use a s’more,” I explain, moving it a little closer to his face.

  “I don’t want to take yours—”

  “Oh, come on, Reed. I can make another.”

  He looks like he’s going to argue some more but maybe he sees the set expression on my face because he smiles, finally, and takes it. He shoves the entire thing in his mouth in two bites—it’s fascinating to watch—and swallows it within seconds. “Mmm,” he mumbles around a sticky mouthful of melted marshmallow. “Fanks, Paige.”

  I laugh. “You’re welcome. Excellent manners, by the way.”

  He laughs too, wiping at his mouth. I hesitate at his side—he clearly wanted some privacy, or he wouldn’t have moved his chair. On the other hand, he did smile at me when I teased him. Not knowing quite what to do with myself, I start to edge away—and nearly jump when he reaches out and grabs my hand. His is slightly sticky and warm and somehow makes it feel like fire is shooting up my arm.

  “You could stay,” he says quietly. “If you want. The company wouldn’t be unappreciated.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief, not really knowing why. I just feel like leaving his side right now would be unsettling, for some reason. Instead, I plop down into the sand, my arms resting on my raised knees.

  It’s quiet for a long moment. Normally, I find silence unsettling, always eager to fill it with conversation, music, or laughter—something, anything, to keep from the stifling feeling of stillness that I often associate with silence. But with Reed, that stifling feeling is missing. I find that I like the quiet, which is kind of crazy for me.

  “Your neck is all pink,” he says suddenly, and I feel his fingers brush against my skin. My breath catches in my throat—he’s touching me. I know it’s not the first time—you don’t live on a tour bus together without some accidental physical contact. But somehow, it feels incredibly intimate, the pads of his fingers touching my bare neck. I can’t help the little shiver that runs down my spine. “You must have spent too much time in the sun.”

  I struggle to keep my voice steady. “No such thing as too much time in the sun. It’s been so cold at home, I have to store up all the sun I can get.”

  He laughs softly, the sound low and rumbling, barely discernible over the crackling fire behind us. “But it’s not good to burn, either. Doesn’t that hurt?”

  The truth is I hadn’t even noticed it before he pointed out it. But now that he’s touched me, all of the skin in that area of my neck feels like it’s on fire. I have a feeling it has nothing to do with sunburn.

  This isn’t good, I tell myself. You can’t be getting all giggly schoolgirl over Reed. The work-study I’m about to embark means everything to me. I cannot mess it up because I have a crush on the drummer of the band.

  I thought of the giggling girl I had seen with Cash in the kitchen the night before and my stomach twists. It’s a common sight on tour, Cash leading a parade of groupies and who knows who else into the bus or dressing room. Sometimes, Lennon would even hook up with girls on tour, though he was never so in your face about it as Cash. Reed, on the other hand, appeared to be entirely faithful to Sienna, as far as I could see. I’d seen him flirt with fans plenty of times, but I got the feeling he did that more as a PR measure than anything else.

  But I can hardly expect that to be the case this time around. If Sienna is out of the picture, what’s to prevent him from acting like the rock star that he is? He’s every bit as good looking as Cash, though not half as arrogant. Once the girls know he’s on the market I can only imagine how many times I’ll see them throw themselves at him.

  No, going into this tour with a crush on Reed is about the last thing I need in my life. What I need is to focus on the work that I’ll be doing. And focus is hard enough for me to find even without Reed Ransome in the mix.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asks, jarring me from my thoughts. The flush spreads from the back of my neck to my cheeks and I’m glad he can’t see my face. “The tour, actually,” I say honestly.

  He sighs loudly behind me and I frown, wondering if I messed up. “What’s going on up there, Mr. Sigh?” I ask.

  He chuckles a little. “I’m thinking about the tour, too. Wishing it had started a week ago, to be honest.”

  I turn in the sand to face him. “Yeah?”

  He nods, not meeting my eyes. His focus is firmly on the ocean. “Yeah.”

  “You do realize that you’re in paradise right now, right? That anyone in their right mind would be happy to switch places with you. And you’re wishing you were at work, instead?”

  Now he meets my eyes and, in the dancing light from the fire, I can see the laughter in his. “Good point.”

  “Are you not having fun?”

  He shakes his head. “No, it’s not that. It’s been great to spend time with my brothers and my friends and not have any responsibilities. It’s just...” He shakes his head again, as if at a loss for words. “I guess it would just be nice to have something to keep my mind occupied, you know? I’ve always thought that hard work is the best way to keep from thinking about shit you don’t want to think about.”

  “Sienna,” I say automatically, and then wince. Maybe he isn’t in the mood to hear her name.

  But his expression is only thoughtful as he studies my face. “Not really Sienna, not exactly. I mean, I can hardly say I miss her. I barely saw her even when we were still dating.”

  “But you cared about her. You guys were together for a long time. It can’t be easy to end that.”

  He shrugs, looking back to the water. “I guess we had some good times.” He lapses into silence and I try to resist the urge to press. Something is obviously bothering him about his break up—if it’s not missing his ex-girlfriend, what would it be? Karen has always told me that I’m way too curious, way too pushy. To say that I have a hard time dropping something would be an understatement.

  When I can handle the silence no longer I offer a tentative, “care to elaborate? I mean, if you don’t m
iss her and you barely saw her—what exactly do you want to get your mind off?”

  When he doesn’t answer, I could kick myself. Why can’t I ever just mind my own business? Just when I’m about to apologize for being nosey he suddenly stands, holding out a hand to me. “Want to go for a walk?”

  “Wha... what?” I stutter, caught off guard.

  He grins, and I notice, for the first time, that one side of his mouth quirks up a bit more than the other when he smiles. How have I never seen that before? This is a guy whose face graces the posters on my dorm room wall.

  “A walk, Paige. With me.” I’m still staring at him like an idiot, transfixed by the mouth quirk. “Come on. It’s hot by the fire and all I can hear is Cash hitting on that poor girl from the dive stand. I want to get out of here.”

  I take his hand without thinking, allowing him to pull me to my feet. Again, I feel that burning sensation where our skin meets—and he doesn’t release my hand right away, holding it for a good twenty seconds longer than strictly needed to help me up from the sand. Before he lets go he gives it a brief squeeze, and, as I move to follow him, I can’t help but wonder why.

  Chapter Six

  Reed

  Paige and I each grab a fresh beer from the cooler. “Maybe get two,” she suggests, winking at me. “It’d be a shame to run out of beer.” I laugh and grab two more, slipping them into the roomy pockets of my cargo shorts before following her down the beach away from the villa and the resort. It’s practically pitch dark out here away from the bonfire. This part of the beach is mostly undeveloped, the trees forming a solid dark wall to our left, the ocean crashing to our right. The only light comes from the moon, which reflects off the black water, dancing in the waves.

  “Is it just me, or are the waves louder out here?” Paige asks.

  “It’s not just you,” I assure her as we walk around a bend in the tree line. The waves are a steady roar now that the noise of the CD player is gone and we’re closer to the water. “Don’t think I’m a pussy—it freaks me out a little bit.”