His Assurance (Assured Distraction Book 3) Read Free Page A

lame . [delete]
    Gunner: Hey, it’s been a while …Oh yeah, that sounded a little desperate . [delete]
    Gunner: This is Gunner. I’m in Austin … That was a little better . [delete]
    Gunner: Hey, are you all right? This is Gunner from Assured Distraction. We met in Paris.
     
    I hit send before I could delete it. It still sounded lame, but I guessed it was better than nothing.
    I spent the rest of the day unpacking, going through mail, and sorting laundry for the lady to do. I had a lady who came over once a week while I was on the road to collect mail and make sure everything was okay in the house. Now that I’m home, she’ll come and clean and do laundry. Sending out my laundry was a luxury I opted for since I sure as shit didn’t know anything about doing it myself.
    By that night, I decided Lola either didn’t want to talk to she or me had changed her number. I thought about it all day and guessed she probably did since she was supposed to be living in France. Hell, her French accent sounded real to me, and she spoke it fluently. The article said she claimed to be a U.S. citizen, though. Why didn’t she tell me that? I think the lady has some explaining to do.
    The banging on my door let me know Carter must have finally extricated himself from his private party. I opened it, happy to see him alone.
    “Dude, I never heard back from you. What’s happening?” Carter moved into my den as he spoke.
    “I haven’t heard back from her. I shot her a text after I talked to you, but she hasn’t replied.”
    “You need to call her. Fuck that texting, get right to the good stuff like that sweet French accent I remember her using on you while she was wrapping those luscious lips around your dick.”
    “Please, don’t remind me. I’ve remembered that since I saw her on TV.” I couldn’t get it out of my mind actually, but I didn’t want to sound over-eager.
    I’d never been that way about a woman we met on the road, but for some reason, it was different with her. I had a hard time getting her out of my mind.
    That was never a problem with new women at every venue. Most of them wanted to fuck someone from the band so they could brag about it. Hell, Carter and I didn’t care. We were happy to accommodate them as long as they were willing to accommodate us however we wanted it that night.
    If I was honest with myself, meaningless sex with faceless women was becoming tiresome. It got old never knowing who or what was going to end up in my bed or bath or the door or table or couch or hell, even the brick wall outside the venue or side of the bus. Carter and I had sex wherever we wanted and pretty much whenever. I guess it was a miracle one of us hadn’t spent some time in the back of a police car for having sex in public.
    “So, you think I should call even though she didn’t get back with me? I don’t want to seem desperate.”
    “Dude, you are desperate. How long’s it been since you got laid? Your dick’s probably ready to fall off from lack of use.” I guess he didn’t see me leave with the red head. Just as well. Carter popped me on the back of the head. “Call her already.”
    When the phone started ringing, my palms started sweating. What was this shit? I wasn’t that desperate.
    “ Allo ,” a man answered.
    “Uh, I’m looking for Lola.”
    “This is her phone, but she is not here any longer,” said a thick, French accent.
    “Do you have a number for her in the U.S., uh, please?” I bet he thought I was some weird stalker now.
    “To whom am I speaking?” The man’s tone was very formal.
    “This is Gunner Wallace. I’m a friend of hers from Texas.” Lame, Lame, Lame. What else could I have said?
    “Well, Mr. Gunner Wallace. I will give her the message that you called, and she can return the call if she chooses. I am not in the habit of handing out my daughter’s phone number to strangers.
    “Right, I, uh, understand that. You’re right. You shouldn’t give her number out. I’m sorry