Reckless (Thoughtless, #3)(110)

Not realizing she’d seen that, I told her, “I’m just about done with it.”

Twisting to me, she sat on her vanity and stretched her arms out behind her. The mirror gave me a full shot of her outfit; the counter was pulling down the already low back of her jumpsuit, so I could see the top of her ass. “I know people in the industry. Perhaps they could look at it when you’re finished?”

I sort of felt like accepting any help from Sienna would come with huge strings attached—cable-sized strings—and all of them would be tied to Kellan. So I only smiled and said, “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Sienna dismissed me with a friendly wave, and I left her room not quite sure if that conversation had gone well or not.

Shoving her to the back of my mind, I set off to find my favorite rock star. When I did find him, what he was doing surprised me a little. The crew hadn’t finished setting the instruments up on the stage yet. In the prep area behind the stage, there were various lonely instruments in and out of their cases—a guitar here, a microphone there. A full drum set was resting peacefully in the organized chaos. Kellan was behind them, attempting to play a D-Bags song while Evan laughed at him mercilessly.

I’d never seen Kellan behind the drums before. The sight was both odd and natural—a beautiful blue jay gliding across a lake instead of soaring through the clouds. It was clearly something that was not his specialty, and he was biting his lip as he concentrated on the complicated rhythms. Watching him focus so intently on something was intoxicating, and I wasn’t the only one who felt that way. A small circle of people were gathered around us, listening to him play—rather, try to play.

Evan spotted me and came over to wrap his arm around me. He was still laughing, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he watched Kellan fumble over a beat and nearly drop one of his sticks. “It’s nice to know I’m better at something than Kellan,” he told me.

I laughed as I watched Kellan curse and shake his head. He was losing the rhythm fast; I could barely recognize the song I knew he was trying to play. “His talent lies elsewhere,” I murmured. Evan chuckled at me, squeezing me tight, and I realized my statement could be taken as dirty talk. “You know, singing and such.”

He laughed a little harder. “Yeah, I figured that’s what you meant.”

When his attention shifted to Kellan again, I asked him, “What’s with the Jujubes box?” I hadn’t been going to pry, but darn if I hadn’t been curious for months.

Evan looked down, a touch of embarrassment darkening his cheeks. “Oh, that. Ah, Jenny and me, the first time we . . . you know, we’d been snacking on those and the box . . . got squished . . . in the process.” He peeked up at me. “I didn’t know she kept the box.” He smiled, a wide, lovesick, satisfied smile. “Sentimental girl.”

My heart warmed for my friends. “Most of us are.”

“Fuck! I give up!” Kellan called out.

The crowd around us started laughing as the awkward drumming ended. I twisted my head back to Kellan. He’d tossed the drumsticks out onto the floor and was resting his head on the snare drum in defeat. Evan clapped my back. “I think I broke him. You may need to console him before the show.”

I was laughing as I walked up to my dejected husband. When he felt me beside him, he glanced up. “I suck,” he muttered, his lips curving into a full-blown puppy dog pout.

Resisting the urge to suck on that lip, I extended my palm and helped him stand up. “You can’t be a pro at everything, Kellan,” I told him, fingering his wedding ring before letting go of his right hand.

Kellan’s eyes turned heated as he stared at me. Voice as husky as his eyes, he responded with, “You’re right. I’ll just stick to what I’m really, really good at.” His vision traveled down my body, the fire in his eyes tingling my skin like a Fourth of July sparkler.

I wanted to remind him to behave, but he instantly switched moods. Expression now curious, he asked, “What did Sienna say?”

Walking with him around the people busy working, I recounted my confusing conversation. “She said we were overreacting.” I watched him as I continued. His gaze was speculative and disbelieving; he didn’t agree. “She also said she’d ease up on the cuddling.”

Kellan smirked. “She’s said that before. But then a camera gets pointed in her direction and she . . . forgets.” He rolled his eyes. “Gotta give the fans what they want. She’s a performer to the core.”

“It’s how she was raised. It’s how she survived the transition from child star to superstar.” I blinked at my words. Did I really just defend her?

Kellan seemed surprised as well as he held open the door to his empty dressing room. “I get that. I think the only thing I really do get about her is that her childhood sucked just as much as mine did.”

The door closed behind us, and I looped my arms around his neck. My face serious, I told him, “No, her childhood was nothing like yours, Kellan. Not even close.”

Ancient sadness filled his eyes as he nodded, and I squeezed him tight in an attempt to prove to him that my love was stronger than their hate.

Later, when the D-Bags were on stage, Anna came up to me as I watched Kellan singing his heart out from my behind-the-scenes vantage point. I usually used this time every evening to work on my newly conceived book. Writing two books at the same time probably wasn’t the best way to finish one, but whenever I watched Kellan play, my creative juices started flowing and I had no choice but to pour it out onto my laptop screen. He was my own personal muse.