Crazy in Love (Blue Lake #3)(34)

“I said I was fine!” She took off down the path to the parking lot, rubbing her hands on her jeans. “Don’t worry about me!”

She’d be more than fine. Sunday was only two days away and then Cole would be out of her life for good. She could handle anything for two days, and that included watching her best friend go out with the man she had a crazy-stupid crush on.

As soon as the door to the limo shut, Rachael curled up onto the cold leather seat and let her tears fall.





Chapter Eleven





Cole stood in his dressing room, geared up in his first outfit of the night: dark-washed jeans with a white handkerchief hanging out the back pocket, combat boots, long-sleeve black shirt and black vest with spikes on the collar. If he had his way he’d ditch the handkerchief and vest with the spikes. He’d wear head-to-toe black and channel the simple, bluesy notes of Johnny Cash. But Rita had made it perfectly clear: do things her way for a while, and then he could do things his way.

He tightened the guitar strap over his shoulder and played a few notes, his thoughts swarming around Rachael and the way she’d left.

She’d been angry. She’d thought he was asking if Lucy was single so that he could date her. She’d been dead wrong. He’d wanted to set her up with Ronnie, his drummer. Ronnie was a sucker for gingers.

But Rachael had no right whatsoever to be angry. No damned right.

If she didn’t want to be with him, what did she care if he dated every single woman in Blue Lake?


That woman tied him up in so many damn knots, he could burst.

Someone banged on the door to his dressing room.

Rachael.

“Come in,” he said, his throat drying up.

The door opened wide and Rita charged through in a leather coat that flowed around her ankles. “Do you hear them out there? They’re going wild!”

Screams and shouts blended into one ear-splitting roar. As the crowd chanted his name, their voices blended into a deep rumble that shook the walls of his dressing room.

“Yeah, I hear ‘em.”

He continued to play the notes on his mind, closing his eyes as new verses came to the forefront. Rachael was in every single note. The honey-blonde waves of her hair, the softness of her cheek, the sweetness of her lips. As he imagined Rachael with him in this moment, the unruly, staccato notes molded into something flowing and effortless.

“What is that?” Rita said, glaring at his fingers as they plucked at the strings. “What are you doing?”

He shrugged. “Going over a song.”

A song that was born as he sat in the living room of the inn, thinking about how he wanted to be the man Rachael needed him to be.

How that wasn’t possible.

He hadn’t named the song, but the core notes of the chorus were: Run to him, think of me.

“That’s not a song in your act. Damn it, Cole.” Rita put two firm hands on his shoulders and shook. “You need to focus. After what happened in Houston, we cannot afford for you to slip up. You have to concentrate on playing the songs on the schedule for tonight. You have to make that crowd love the music so that they love you and forget all about the drama with what’s-her-pretty-face.”

“I got it.” He slung the guitar over his shoulder. “Believe me, I hear you.”

Thanks to Rachael, he’d already forgotten all about Tori West.

Although she didn’t want him, she had no problem getting her panties in a wad when she thought he wanted to date someone else.

“Okay, then.” Rita smiled wide and toothy. “Let’s get you out there.”