Raw Deal (Larson Brothers #1)(25)
Zane waved a hand and wandered back into the adjoining bathroom, though he still kept up the conversation. “I’m not trying to tell you what’s what,” he said ironically, since that was exactly what he’d been doing. “Do what you want. I just think it’s a bad move.”
“While you hitting on Rowan wouldn’t be?”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I didn’t kill her husband.”
“No, but your brother did. That makes you the enemy whether you like it or not. You’re on my side, right?”
“Yeah, but . . . forget about Rowan anyway. We talked, she’s cool, she’s going back home now. I didn’t bother getting her number and I doubt I’ll ever even see her again.” The water turned on, and suddenly Zane’s voice was muffled as if he had a mouthful of toothpaste. “And if you were smart you’d let Savannah get on that plane too without getting all tangled up in this . . . whatever it is.”
Right again. So right. Zane wandered back in, brushing his teeth, and stared Mike down mercilessly for a minute. When he pulled the toothbrush from his mouth, he said, “Shit. You’ve already got it bad for this girl.”
“No I don’t.”
Zane scoffed and ambled his way back through the door, steadily brushing. That was one problem growing up with two brothers with whom you shared one tiny bedroom and barely had access to any other parts of the house lest you be exposed to raucous sex, violence, or drug use. In quarters that close, those two brothers grew up knowing everything about you, everything you were thinking, what you were going to say or do before you said or did it. That bond couldn’t be denied. It was enough to drive him insane some days, and definitely enough to keep him away from them when he was going through some shit he wanted to deal with on his own. Damien was the worst, sure, but Zane was getting there fast.
“I don’t have it bad for her,” he tried again, more forcefully this time. “She’s an amazing girl and we’ll talk tonight, but in thirty-six hours she will get on that plane and that will most likely be the last time I ever see her too. She has a life to get back to. I couldn’t fit in it even if I wanted to.”
Zane merely grunted in response. Which was almost worse than arguing with him. It meant he was done with the debate because he knew he was right. Luckily, Savannah took that cue to text him.
Rowan all tucked away in bed. The rooms are fabulous, thank you AGAIN. I’m ready when you are.
“I’m out,” he called to Zane, getting to his feet. “You going straight home when you leave here?”
“If I even remember where the f*ck it is.”
Mike chuckled at that, heading for the door. “I’ll catch up with you soon.”
He’d managed to ditch Nicole in the after-show chaos, ducking into the dressing room with Zane where very few others were allowed. His phone had been sullenly silent on her behalf, so he hoped she was gone and not milling around hoping to find him. Nevertheless, he looked both ways when he stuck his head out the door, then set off toward the exit. Hurting her feelings wasn’t an idea he relished, but neither was getting caught up in her drama.
He had Savannah waiting for him.
On my way, he answered her.
When the knock sounded on Savannah’s hotel door, she surged up from her chair as if a fire alarm had sounded. He’d come to her door to get her? She’d expected an I’m out front message so as to minimize any chance of bumping into Rowan . . . who was supposed to be in bed next door, but might be prone to a midnight snack attack that necessitated a trip to find vending machines.
She should’ve known better. It was probably a ridiculous notion, but Mike Larson would probably be Savannah’s personal bodyguard if she let him. She simply got that feeling from him.
Biting her lip, she watched him through the peephole for a few seconds. He’d ditched the baseball cap, nothing to shadow or mitigate the devastating power of his eyes. Anxiety fluttered in her throat.
He was smiling when she opened the door, and she couldn’t help returning it. Great smile. She’d bet he had a great laugh, too. Maybe tonight she would find out.
“Ready?” he asked, and she was: clutch in hand, hair recurled, her tiny dab of makeup in place. He wore the same clothes he’d had on at the concert, and suddenly she wondered if she’d gone overboard on her own attire. After a lot of debating with herself, she’d finally changed into the sundress she’d planned on wearing tomorrow, white with little pink flowers. It was thin as a slip and left her shoulders and a good portion of her legs bare, but it was such a warm night and it seemed perfect for walking on the beach in the moonlight—far better than the jeans and boots she’d had on earlier. If it came to walking on the beach, of course.
“Ready!” she said brightly, stepping out and pulling the door closed behind her. They fell into step together, heading toward the elevator.
“Is Rowan feeling okay?” he asked. “No morning sickness or anything like that?”
Touched at his concern, she nodded. “She’s doing well. It’s not a difficult pregnancy so far, which is a relief.”
“Good.” While they waited, another couple joined them, so they fell silent. All four stepped onto the elevator when it arrived, Savannah taking the opportunity to surreptitiously scrutinize little details about Mike she might have otherwise missed: he wore a brown woven bracelet on his right wrist, and above that, one of the tattoos on his impressive forearm looked to be a quote written in Latin. She tilted her head slightly to see it.