Love Struck (Miss Match #2) (14 page)

God, he was an idiot.

He wouldn’t do the same thing. He’d stick it out and try to mend their relationship. He was a total romantic.

He was an idiot again, because she didn’t
know
. She couldn’t. And it didn’t really matter if she did, because the two of them were not dating. Not really. It just felt like it.

He threw himself back onto the bed again with a dramatic flair that Jax would have been proud of. If somehow Love
did
know—which she couldn’t, but
if
—then he was sure she’d judge him harshly.

Okay, that was idiotic too since she’d never given any indication of being any type of a judger.

Which only made him feel worse. She
should
judge him. She should decorate him with a scarlet A for “Asshole.”

What had he been thinking?

He could make up excuses. He’d just been going with the motion, for example. She was the one who’d chosen his bedroom. It wasn’t his fault she’d had those sad eyes and pouty lips.

The truth was Lacy Dawson was the coolest girl he’d met in ages. Playing music with her felt as natural as playing with his own band. That said something, since the Blue Hills had been together in various incarnations since sophomore year of high school. So he played with her, insisted they talk, pried into her personal life, passed harsh judgment on her dead fiancé, and then fucked her when she was most vulnerable.

And, man, had it been amazing. As in A.Maz.Ing.

Really, he should be castrated. That was the only fitting punishment at this point.

He glanced at the bedside clock and realized it was past time for him to get up. Sammy would be pounding on his door any minute. The days they weren’t traveling belonged to the band to do with as they pleased for the most part. Today they had a load in at the new venue later that morning, followed by sound check, and then they were free until the show. Lou, though, was a stickler for breakfasts. More specifically, he was a stickler for free breakfasts, and he encouraged his boys to take advantage when they were offered.

Eli pulled a worn tee and jeans on as slowly as he could, dreading the moment when he’d head down to the lobby and see Lacy. He’d told her last night they’d deal with awkward today. He was regretting that now that today was right this minute. She probably hated his guts now that she’d had a chance to think about it, although no one could possibly hate him more than he hated himself.

The part he hated most was how he was still fighting down the erection that had threatened him from the moment his eyes opened and he recalled the sight and feel and scent of her body on his. Though they hadn’t had a drop to drink, he had been dizzy as he inhaled that soft floral scent from the hollow of her neck. Even if they’d gone no further, he’d felt drunk on her kisses. He glanced down. Well, everyone would notice
that
.

On the way to the lobby, Eli forced himself to think of nothing but baseball until he’d gotten himself under control. Then he planned for the moment to come. The real problem was going to be what Lacy thought of him, not what he was thinking about. Last night he may have been the kind of man he didn’t want to be, but this morning was his chance to prove to her that he wasn’t a horrible person. This was his chance to be the man he thought of himself as, the kind who owned up to his mistakes, the kind who apologized and promised to never let his mistake happen again.

He’d started to feel better about the whole thing. Or at least as though he might be able to get through the day. Except then he got to the lobby where breakfast was laid out, found the table where the guys were sitting, and realized that Lacy wasn’t with them.

Eli rubbed at his scruff, suddenly worried about what her absence meant. Was she too embarrassed to face him?

He should ask about her. Unless that seemed weird. Lacy always ate with them, so curiosity about her whereabouts should be normal.

“What’s your deal, a-hole?” It was a standard greeting from Jax, and pretty reasonable since Eli had been standing in one place looking like an idiot since he’d arrived.

He lied, of course. “I’m trying to decide if I want pancakes or waffles.” Then he felt bad about lying. Probably because he felt bad in general. He tapped Sammy on the shoulder. “Hey, where’s Lacy?”

“Dawson? I don’t know. Do I look like her mother?” Sammy eyed him.

He pressed her further. “You usually wake us up. Didn’t you go to her room?”

Sammy laughed around a mouthful of eggs. “I don’t wake up Dawson.” Well, that was certainly news. “Lou says women are smart enough to not need to be reminded to eat breakfast. Though he does seem to nag at her about dinners, so I’m not sure his reasoning there.”

Somehow it didn’t surprise Eli that Lou didn’t wake Lacy for breakfast. Eli had often believed the routine for the boys was only to make sure they didn’t stay up all night partying. It made sense, considering Jax was in the band. At the moment it was unfortunate, though, since that left Eli in a state of concern. Maybe he should go to Lacy’s room and check on her himself. But if she were avoiding him, then that really would be awkward.

He searched for a reason to send Sammy. “But don’t you need her for load in at the next venue?”

“That’s not until eleven.” Sammy wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “If she doesn’t make it to the bus on time, I’ll go after her then. Stop your worrying, nerd. You got a thing for her or something?” He could feel himself blushing as he tried to make appropriately horrified faces.

Eleven.
That was two whole hours away. He should probably go and talk to Lacy before that. Make his apology. Promise to behave in the future.

However, thinking of talking to her alone in her hotel room didn’t seem wise at the moment. Not when memories of the night before were still strongly singed in his mind and in his pants. And come to think of it, he didn’t even know what room number was hers. Sure, he could ask, but that would be really obvious. So he decided to just play it the way he had been and let whatever happened happen.

Yeah, because that was working out for him well so far.

*   *   *

The sun streamed through the hotel window, hitting Lacy smack in the face and waking her earlier than she’d wanted. Dammit. She’d forgotten to close the blackout curtains. A glance at the alarm clock said that it wasn’t even nine. As a musician who worked and thrived at night, she hadn’t seen before nine in eons. God, it sucked.

She stretched her arms over her head and her toes toward the bottom of the bed. Man, was she stiff. Her thigh muscles were singing and stinging like she’d been in a rodeo. What was up with that?

Then it hit her. Memories flashed before her like a pornographic slideshow. Eli. Eli naked.
Her
naked. Their naked parts together.

Then another thought—Folx.

Aw, crap.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d missed a date with Folx. And that she missed it because she’d been with Eli. Intimately …

She felt like a sack of the brown stuff.

Funny, though. Her phone hadn’t buzzed with any incoming messages the night before. Maybe something was wrong with her cell. She scrambled out of bed to use the bathroom. On the way back, she grabbed her laptop and climbed back under the covers. She logged in to SoWriAn. There it was—a single message in her queue left less than half an hour before.

Hey, I feel like a total asshole. I fell asleep and missed you last night. Hope you slept well. xx

He’d sent kisses. That was new. And sweet.

Lacy threw herself back on her bed with a sigh. The whole message sent a burst of warmth through her body. Followed by a shower of ice-cold regret. She felt so much for him—
so much
—and she’d cheated on him.

Okay, technically, she hadn’t cheated on him. They’d both agreed to put anything they had together on hold. But how could she do that, really? Just pause her emotions like a button on Spotify. It wasn’t that easy.

Or was it? Because, if she was honest—and hell, this was all in her head so what was the harm in a little truth—she’d had a pretty excellent evening with Eli. Not just the sex, but the sharing. The connecting. Finally unloading about Lance.

And, yes, the sex.

All of it was incredible. So if it really wasn’t cheating—and it really wasn’t—then maybe she could embrace it for what it was. Something good and beautiful and very much needed. Like hearing an unexpectedly brilliant song in the middle of a lousy playlist.

Oh, my God!

Lacy bolted upright. There had been words! A phrase. Lyrics swarming in her head. She searched her memory to see if she could recall them, which was a bit tricky in between all the particularly pleasant thoughts of Eli kissing her, touching her, moving inside her. Eli certainly was a good lover. The kind of lover she wouldn’t mind a repeat tryst with if she was—

Her train of thought derailed. Because, there they were. The words.

Pieces of me.

You’re just pieces of me.

She shot out of bed to grab her guitar and her notepad. The second her hands struck the first chord, the melody came, clinging to the lyrics in her head as if they’d been born together. A whole refrain came out within minutes.

There’s pieces of me

Where you live

Like you never went away

And there’s pieces of me

That can’t focus off your face

And there’s times I believe, I’ll move on,

That I’ll be whole and healed someday

But I’m busted and broken

And there’s just pieces of me

She played it over and over, the weight of the song on her tongue comforting and electric and new. Like a comet streaking through her with its light and its fire, the darkness on her writing had been lifted.

She nearly wept from the exhilarating release.

Then she reached the verse, got one line in, and the block was back. There was nothing. No more words. Nada. Zilch. A big fat absence of lyric.

Lacy spun Lucky and shook its neck as if she were throttling the instrument. “Gahhhh!”

Immediately she felt sorry. It wasn’t Lucky’s fault she was a worthless songwriter. What had she expected anyway? Nearly a year of nothing, no matter how hard she’d tried, and now she thought she’d be able to write a whole piece like she’d never been blocked? Maybe it was unreasonable.

Or …

Maybe she just needed to figure out what it was that had struck the inspiration in the first place. There were a number of factors at work, of course, the most obvious that she’d been with Eli. They’d been talking music. They’d been jamming. But she’d jammed at the studio and onstage. She’d talked music with lots of people. And she’d had just as many deep conversations with Folx and hadn’t been able to open up.

Which meant it had to be the sex.

Oh, my God.

She sat up as the realization dawned on her.
I need orgasms to write songs!

Could that actually be the issue? All this time it wasn’t Lance’s death that had left her dry, but a lack of sex?

No way. That was just absurd.

Come to think of it, though, she’d only written sparse poetry before she lost her virginity at fifteen. Yes, she’d been an early bloomer. Songwriting had come soon after that. She’d been sexually active with one boyfriend or another from then on. Of course she’d written more when she was in love—that was pretty standard—but she’d never connected that her inspiration might be the sex.

She burst into laughter. There was no other possible response. She’d always considered her lyrics her superpower. Now she found it might be triggered by O’s. It was rather hilarious.

It was also problematic. She had a whole album scheduled to record in a couple months time and only half a song written. And except for the one encounter the night before, she wasn’t getting any. If her theory about the sex and the inspiration was correct, then she was screwed.

Screwed by being not screwed.

She let out another
ha
at that. Well, what else was she supposed to do?

Actually, what she had to do was test her theory out. She needed to have sex again and see if more lyrics came. Her true love interest only knew her online. Maybe she could suggest an earlier meetup with Folx. Except she was on tour and he was on tour, and even when they did meet it didn’t mean there’d be sex. At least, not right away.

That left Eli.

She’d have to have sex with Eli again. The event had gone well enough. There was no reason to think he wouldn’t be interested in a second round. Yes, that was what she needed to do—hunt him down and attack.

Lacy showered quickly then threw on some cut-off shorts and a tank top intending to head straight to Eli’s room. While she searched for her key card, though, there was a knock on her door. Maybe it was Eli coming for her. Wouldn’t that make things easy?

She put on her sexiest smile and opened the door wide.

Sammy stood there with a rather intimidating scowl on her face. “It’s eleven oh three. We were supposed to leave for the venue three minutes ago. You’re late.”

Already eleven?
Man, she’d forgotten how time got away from her when she was in the creative zone. “Gosh, I’m sorry, Sammy. I lost track of the hour. Let me just grab my things.”

This was fine, too, Lacy decided as she flung her bag and her guitar over her shoulder. She’d get her sound check over with and then she’d have all afternoon to bang Eli and bang out some words.

Chapter Twelve

Lacy skipped to keep up with Sammy as she followed her down to the bus. With each step, she grew a little less excited and a little more nervous about seeing Eli again.

What she was, really, was a girl on a morning-after high. A girl who wanted to repeat the night before, but for convoluted reasons. It was perfectly natural to feel a little anxious.

She kept her eyes down as she climbed onto the bus and deposited her guitar in its storage rack. Not only because of her anxiety but because Sammy was currently embarrassing her with an announcement to the others.