The Loneliest Tour Read Free Page B

for a second that
it couldn ’ t be true … but after the rumors …
    It was another total holy shit moment.
    This wasn ’ t just any guitarist.
    This was one of the guitarists for
Willow Son.
    This was Jett.
    Complete bad ass rockstar … looking right at her, half
grinning.
     
    (3)
     
    If it had been a guy he would have
gotten a guitar smacked across his face. Actually, Jett was pissed any way. He
looked at the woman ’ s hands
first, wondering if she was some nosey reporter who snuck into the studio.
    You think shit like that didn ’ t happen? Try again.
    Jett and Willow Son were still big
news and would be with the announcement of the recording sessions and the west
coast tour with Crutch Fail. That meant Jett would have to deal with a million
questions about his so-called addiction.
    Then the damn woman fell forward,
lunged back, and charged away. By the time Jett was able to get his guitar off
and chase her down, she was standing in the hallway to the studio with a broken
picture near her feet.
    After their little holy shit and you ’ re
screwed moments, Jett just stood there and waited for the woman to answer
his question.
    Having a few seconds, he did what
any decent man - and true rockstar - would do.
    He checked her out.
    She wore tight pants. Super tight
pants. Black. Her shoes were almost like running, or some kind of athletic,
shoes. Her shirt was just as tight as her pants, showing off some very nice and
subtle curves. Natural curves, the kind that were meant to be on a woman. Her
hair was pulled back in a mess of a ponytail. Everything about the woman didn ’ t add up to why she was in a
recording studio this late at night.
    Slowly, she lifted her left hand
and put up a finger. Then she moved into the soundboard area. She bent over and
crouched a little, leaving Jett with an even more enticing sight. Those damn
tight pants hugged her ass in an impossible way. Her shirt pulled up just
enough to show a sliver of creamy skin.
    Jett turned his head and took a
breath.
    Since the arrest and the mess that
followed, his desire for women seemed to have flatlined a little. Colby and
Tessa were inseparable, always working on their schedules to make sure they could
keep meeting up and keep their romance of fate (or whatever the hell Colby
wanted to try and call it) alive. The rest of the guys were always doing press
and writing stuff, trying to keep the Willow Son name from being completely
ruined. Although Jett did a hell of a job getting that process started.
    It wasn ’ t that Jett wasn ’ t
interested, it just seemed nothing caught his eye.
    Until now.
    He looked again, just as the woman
stood back up. She held up a bag that was black with some kind of white flowery
design on it.
    “ I
came for this, ” she said.
    She touched her face, obviously
knowing how beet red her cheeks were.
    It was kind of sexy to see.
    Dare Jett think it … almost cute.
    “ A
bag, ” Jett said. “ Good to know. I thought that
maybe Portis had a metrosexual side to himself. ”
    “ You
know Portis? ” she asked.
Then she laughed. “ Of
course you know Portis. You ’ re
signed with him. You ’ re
famous. Duh. ”
    She touched her face, then her
hair. A piece of her hair fell forward, right in her face. She hurried to blow
on it as though Jett hadn ’ t
noticed.
    Jett was completely enamored.
    He stepped forward. “ You know a lot about me. ”
    “ Yeah.
You ’ re Jett. One of the
guitarists for Willow Son. You ’ re …”
    He watched her hesitate.
    What ’ s wrong? Want to ask
about my drug habits?
    Jett felt his smile fade and lip
start to curl. “ You have
your bag now. ”
    “ I ’ m really sorry. I didn ’ t know someone was here. I didn ’ t mean to … it was just … really good. You … the
guitar. What you were playing. ”
    “ Okay, ” Jett said. “ You have a name, sweetheart? ”
    Why the hell did you just call
her sweetheart? Are you really going to flirt with her?
    Then again, how was this not