Changing Everything (Forgiving Lies #2.5)(58)

Taking his sweet time, he shucked yesterday’s briefs and meandered naked to the shower without thinking twice. He knew Emily wouldn’t bat an eye. After ten years nursing him through injuries and illness, puking and pain, she’d seen all there was to see. Broad shoulders? Tight buns? She was immune.

And besides, she was gay.

Jacking the water temp to scalding, he stuck his head under the spray, wincing when it found the goose egg on the back of his skull. He measured it with his fingers, two inches around.

The same right hook that had chipped his tooth had bounced his head off a concrete wall.

Emily rapped on the glass. He rubbed a clear spot in the steam and gave her the hard eye for pestering him in the shower.

She was immune to that too. “I asked you if we’re looking at a lawsuit.”

“Damn straight.” He was all indignation. “We’re suing The Combat Zone. Tubby busted my tooth and gave me a concussion to boot.”

She sighed. “I meant, are we getting sued? Tubby’s a good bouncer. If he popped you, you gave him a reason.”

Dakota put a world of aggrievement into his Western drawl. “Why do you always take everybody else’s side? You weren’t there. You don’t know what happened.”

“Sure I do. It’s October, isn’t it? The month you start howling at the moon and throwing punches at bystanders. It’s an annual event. The lawyers are on standby. I just want to know if I should call them.”

He did the snarl that sent villains and virgins running for their mamas.





An Excerpt from





RIOT




   by Jamie Shaw

   Jamie Shaw’s rock stars are back, and this time wild, unpredictable Dee and sexy, mohawked guitarist Joel have explosive chemistry—but will jealousy and painful memories keep them apart?





“Kiss me,” I order the luckiest guy in Mayhem tonight. When he sat next to me at the bar earlier with his “Leave It to Beaver” haircut, I made sure to avoid eye contact and cross my legs in the opposite direction. I didn’t think I’d end up making out with him, but now I have no choice.

A dumb expression washes over his face. He might be cute if he didn’t look so. freaking. dumb. “Huh?”

“Oh for God’s sake.”

I curl my fingers behind his neck and yank him to my mouth, tilting my head to the side and hoping he’s a quick learner. My lips part, my tongue comes out to play, and after a moment, he finally catches on. His greedy fingers bury themselves in my chocolate brown curls—which I spent hours on this morning.

Peeking out of the corner of my eye, I spot Joel Gibbon stroll past me, a bleach-blonde groupie tucked under his arm. He’s too busy whispering in her ear to notice me, and my fingers itch to punch him in the back of his stupid mohawked head to get his attention.

I’m preparing to push Leave It to Beaver off me when Joel’s gaze finally lifts to meet mine. I bite Beaver’s bottom lip between my teeth and give it a little tug, and the corner of Joel’s mouth lifts up into an infuriating smirk that is so not the reaction I wanted. He continues walking, and when he’s finally out of sight, I break my lips from Beaver’s and nudge him back toward his own stool, immediately spinning in the opposite direction to scowl at my giggling best friend.

“I can’t BELIEVE him!” I shout at a far-too-amused-looking Rowan. How does she not recognize the gravity of this situation?!

I’m about to shake some sense into her when Beaver taps me on the shoulder. “Um—”

“You’re welcome,” I say with a flick of my wrist, not wanting to waste another minute on a guy who can’t appreciate how long it took me to get my hair to curl like this—or at least make messing it up worth my while.

Rowan gives him an apologetic half smile, and I let out a deep sigh.

I don’t feel bad about Beaver. I feel bad about the dickhead bass guitarist for the Last Ones to Know.

“That boy is making me insane,” I growl.

Rowan turns a bright smile on me, her blue eyes sparkling with humor. “You were already insane.”

“He’s making me homicidal,” I clarify, and she laughs.

“Why don’t you just tell him you like him?” She twirls two tiny straws in her cocktail, her eyes periodically flitting up to the stage. She’s waiting for Adam, and I’d probably be jealous of her if those two weren’t so disgustingly perfect for each other.

Last semester, I nearly got kicked out of my dorm when I let Rowan move in with me and my roommate. But Rowan’s * live-in boyfriend had cheated on her, and she had nowhere to go, and she’s been my best friend since kindergarten. I ignored the written warnings from my RA, and Rowan ultimately ended up moving in with Adam before I got kicked out. Fast forward to one too many “overnight visitors” later, I still ended up getting reported, and Rowan and I got a two-bedroom in an apartment complex near campus. Her name is on the lease right next to mine, but really, the apartment is just a decoy she uses to avoid telling her parents that she’s actually living with three ungodly hot rock stars. She sleeps in Adam’s bed, his bandmate Shawn is in the second bedroom, and Joel sleeps on their couch most nights because he’s a hot, stupid, infuriating freaking nomad.