Love Songs for the Road (5 page)

Chapter Six

Lock the Door

Ryan couldn’t believe she’d gotten to sleep in until ten a.m. The incident with the reporter last night had been pretty disconcerting, and Jacey’s arrival hadn’t exactly been a barrel of laughs, either. But the junior rocker had already moved all her things into another room before Ryan had woken up. If Ryan could sleep in like this even a couple times a week, she could handle the unexpected obstacles that working for Marcus presented.

She spent her morning writing emails to her parents and a couple of her closest girlfriends, telling them for the first time who her employer was and swearing them to secrecy. After her run-in with the Harry Potter reporter, she realized she needed to be super careful when it came to associating herself with the rock star. No matter how professional their relationship was, people would be tempted to think otherwise. So, no way was she going to scream on Facebook, “I SLEPT 20 FEET AWAY FROM MARCUS TROY LAST NIGHT!!!” In fact, she didn’t post a status at all, satisfying herself by looking at her friends’ photos and comments instead.

Since Nick had dumped her for Natalie, Ryan had maintained a much lower presence on Facebook. In fact, she had come to be deeply wary of all social media, checking her accounts only once or twice a week to make sure she didn’t fall off the face of the earth. Not one week after their breakup, Natalie had had the nerve to post an image of herself and Nick, kissing in a series of those old-photo-booth-style pictures. And then she’d changed her relationship status, too. Really, after one week with Nick, one week after betraying her best friend, she had the nerve to say that she was “in a relationship” with him? And when she knew, she
had
to know, that Ryan would inevitably see all of the above? It was outrageous. She defriended both of them, and for good measure, blocked them, too.

Ryan had never thought of herself as particularly private until this, the most painful drama of her life, had unfolded on Facebook. The world of social media seemed to have desensitized even her most caring friends, to the point that they felt it was perfectly okay to comment in public on the most intimate details of Ryan’s life.

Her friend Karen, a sweet, caring presence in her life for more than five years, had ended up defending Nick, posting on Twitter that the chemistry between Ryan and him had “never been too sizzling in the first place.” Had she not realized that Ryan would read this brilliant insight along with all their other friends? But something about Facebook, Twitter, and all the other sites that Ryan now thought of as nothing more than universally accessible gossip blogs, made people lose their heads. They spent more time maniacally speed-typing on their phones than they did reflecting on the appropriateness of their comments. “The need to assert self,” as one of her child development texts had characterized the terrible two’s, held dominion over almost every adult she knew. Trust and respect, even friendship itself, seemed to have been abandoned by all her supposedly adult peers in favor of this childish and constant selfishness.

Yet for some reason, Nick seemed to want to stay in touch with her. At first, she hadn’t responded to the calls, texts, and emails at all. But now that her anger and shock had died down a little, she occasionally wrote him back, keeping her communications brief and devoid of emotion. Maybe it was just her pride, but she didn’t want her ex to think that he’d utterly destroyed her. No one would have that power over her. Never again, anyway. So when he’d write her three paragraphs, she’d respond, but usually with a single sentence, sometimes even a single word.

For the first time, she reflected on how badly she did
not
want Nick to know about her current gig. Her life would get complicated in a hurry if he, the biggest Marcus Troy fan she knew, found out what she was up to (he’d tried her the night before, but she’d missed the call, and wouldn’t have picked up, anyway). First of all, Nick was a total blabbermouth, and he would tell everyone he knew. And secondly, he’d probably call her ten times a day, wanting information, any information, about what his hero was actually like, in the flesh. She knew her ex well, and yes, he was that insensitive.

I really did sleep twenty feet away from Marcus Troy last night, though,
Ryan thought to herself, and giggled with the oddness of it. Just because Ryan was guarding her privacy didn’t mean sleeping in such close proximity to Marcus didn’t have an effect on her. As a kid, she’d sleepwalked a few times. What if she sleepwalked right into Marcus’s room, dipped the key into the slot, and slipped into his bed without a sound? She’d been thinking about him more and more. He wasn’t just incredibly sexy; he seemed to be a decent guy, a kind and loving father. Plus, he was fun, and funny, and so cute. What would it feel like to have those sexy biceps of his wrapped around her? What would it be like to kiss him, touch him…taste him? The man did something to her, pure and simple. She could suppress it, but she couldn’t deny it.

So instead, Ryan got up and did the only thing she could to banish these daydreams of her employer from her mind: she went for a run. She was an avid runner, going out four to five days a week for anywhere from four miles to eight or ten. She’d loved her first half marathon, back on a wintry April day in Kalispell, and she was struck with the thought that, if she had time to herself like this on a regular basis, maybe she’d use the summer to train for her first full marathon in the fall.

She’d never run in a new city before, so she’d Google-mapped the area around the hotel and plotted a route she hoped would be a fun one. The hotel was just off Waterfront Park, so after a few minutes of stretching, she set off on Alaskan Way, hugging the coast so she could take in the breathtaking view of the bay.
Note to self
, she thought.
Move to Seattle!

Just as she was starting to get comfortable, a middle-aged, totally out-of-shape man blatantly checked her out. Did men really think women didn’t see those sidelong, sneaky glances at women’s bodies on the running path, on the bus, in classrooms and offices? She would never be with a man who checked women out like that—so gross.

She couldn’t help but notice that Marcus didn’t seem to do it, though. He’d been very gentlemanly around her, hadn’t checked out her butt or her boobs when she wasn’t looking. And yet, his eyes seemed drawn to hers in spite of himself. Was she making it up, or was it true? For a gentleman, not to mention a famous rock star like Marcus, to be unable to keep his eyes off her? Getting the attention of a sexy man like him, a man who could have just about any woman he wanted—now
that
was hot.

On the way back to the hotel, Ryan stopped by Pike Place Market, the only Seattle landmark she knew to look for. Once inside, she was entranced. She had thought Pike Place would just be a place for food shopping, but there were lots of arts and crafts, too, and all kinds of artwork. Ryan had yet to receive her first paycheck, but it was challenging not to whip out a credit card and at least buy something nice for her mom.

“Ryan!” cried a voice behind her. She turned to see Miles, followed closely by Charlotte and their dad.

“Oh, hi guys!” said Ryan, shooting for enthusiasm, but feeling embarrassed in her sweaty (and skimpy, she suddenly realized) running outfit. The three of them were coming straight for her.

“You run?” Miles asked her in front of a store selling Polish savory pastries called
piroshkies.

“Yeah, does that seem weird?” Ryan asked, brushing the boy’s hair out of his face. The kid may as well have asked Ryan if she could fly, he seemed so amazed.

“Dad runs, too,” Charlotte said by way of explanation.

“Oh yeah?” Ryan said, looking up at her boss, trying not to meet his blue eyes too deeply or soulfully.

“A few times a week, yeah. We should go together some time. I haven’t had a running partner for years.”

Ryan gave him the once-over. Marcus was wearing jeans and a tight-fitting, perfectly tailored white T-shirt. Actually, there was nothing out of the ordinary about the T-shirt; it was the man wearing it, the one with muscles like Michelangelo’s David, who was just stupid sexy. Ryan thought Marcus might actually be a bit too developed for a runner—the most serious ones were usually super-skinny—but she couldn’t help but imagine him in workout mode, sweating, grunting, trying to beat his personal best. She wondered whether she could take him on in a one-on-one race. The extra muscle, as mouth-watering as it was, could definitely be a disadvantage. Rock star or not, she decided, Marcus Troy would eat her dust.

“We could come, too,” said Charlotte hopefully.

“Yeah!” said Miles. Then, out of nowhere, he touched her waist and said, “You’re pretty.”

“No, I’m not, I’m all sweaty,” she protested, thankful that there was probably enough color already in her face to hide the fact that she was blushing. A good night’s sleep had apparently caused Miles to fall madly in love with her.

Marcus said to his son, “Miles, a woman can be pretty
and
sweaty at the same time.” He smiled at Ryan and shrugged, as if to say,
Kids and the crazy things they say
. But Ryan wasn’t used to being scrutinized by a hot guy
and
his kids at the same time. The rock star’s nanny thought she might pass out if she didn’t sprint out of Pike Place Market right away.

“You think Ryan is sweaty
and
pretty, Daddy?” asked Miles.

“Shhh, stop it!” Charlotte said, jostling the clueless Miles’s shoulder.

Misunderstood Miles looked like he might cry for a moment, while Marcus, not answering his son, gave Ryan a dead-sexy look, those blue eyes seeming to silently agree that yes, she may have been sweaty, but she was very pretty indeed.

Ryan’s blush had faded, but with Marcus’s eyes on her, she somehow couldn’t form a proper sentence. Had a man ever looked at her so directly, so confidently? Guys in their twenties had never gazed at her like that, and she didn’t know if she could handle it. She walked a few steps down the aisle, and Marcus and the children followed her. “Have you ever seen such beautiful produce?” she said, nonsensically picking up a head of lettuce and feeling like some kind of half-assed Rachael Ray.

“I know,” Marcus said, rescuing her. “Look at these heirloom tomatoes. It’s like they weigh about three pounds each. Maybe I’ll pick some things up,” Marcus said, “and we could make the kids a salad for dinner.”

We? Dinner?

“You like to cook?”

“Yeah, sure,” Marcus said. “I mean, nothing fancy. But I know my way around a kitchen. Why? Is that so weird, a guy who cooks?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just…do you really have time on tour? Your schedule seems crazy.”

“Which is exactly why I need to break it up every once in a while, try something different—”

Miles interrupted. “Dad, come on, let’s go.”

Charlotte shushed him, and Ryan noticed that the girl was hanging on their every word. Seeing her there, the little girl she was supposed to be caring for, snapped Ryan back to reality. She couldn’t be making salads with this man, or flirting over fruit. She was supposed to be the nanny, and just the nanny. Salad could lead to dinner, which could lead to…dessert. No, there would be no salad.

“Hey, don’t you have soundcheck in an hour?” Ryan asked.

Marcus pulled out his phone and checked the time. “More or less,” he said.

“Well, if you’re handing them off to me before then, I’d better go get changed.”

“Sure,” said Marcus, and when she looked at him again, the sexy intensity in his eyes had disappeared. “I’ll see you in a few.”

With that, Ryan said a quick good-bye and set off like she was trying to break the world record for the 100-yard dash.

“Don’t forget to take a shower!” Miles yelled. “To take the sweat off!” Ryan didn’t turn around, but she could hear Marcus laughing behind her. She was going to have to stop somewhere and buy a big, bulky tracksuit.

…

Marcus was trying something a little different for this tour. He would play all the crowd favorites, as usual, because that’s what people were paying money to see. Marcus knew that—he wasn’t an idiot. But he was also going to try out some material that was different from anything he had ever written before. No band, either. Just him and his guitar. It was going to be interesting. These songs were darker, more intense than anything in Marcus’s catalog, perhaps more appropriate for a smoky club that fit a hundred people rather than the 10,000- to 20,000-seat arenas booked for the tour. But Marcus didn’t care.

When he’d started off in music, he hadn’t been a father; he’d been nothing more than a kid himself. Now, the responsibilities and challenges of being an adult had changed him. He wasn’t the same man anymore, and he wanted his music to reflect it. There was a new side to Marcus now, and he was going to show it to the audience, whether they liked it or not.

The first show of a tour was always a little creaky, and tonight was no exception. On lead guitar, Smitty was as reliable as ever. But although the bassist and drummer were the same ones he’d used on his most recent album, Marcus had never brought them on tour, and the four of them hadn’t had a chance to gel yet. Sure, they’d practiced for a few weeks in Big Fork in May, but being in front of an audience was totally different, and they weren’t firing on all cylinders, not yet, anyway. Marcus was going to have to make up for it by sending extra passion and energy to the very back row.