Crash Into Me (11 page)

He pulled her up even as he scowled at Ryder, his own eyes filled with a warning Ryder
would have had to be blind to miss. He wasn’t sure what it said about him that he
didn’t give a shit. At that moment, if Jamison had given him any encouragement, he
would have grabbed her and taken off into the night. Would have told his best friend
to fuck off completely.

But encouragement wasn’t what he saw on her face at the moment. Climbing to his feet,
he kept a wary eye on Jared and Jamison, both of whom looked like they wanted to take
a swing at him. He wasn’t sure his jaw could take it—bitter experience had taught
him that they both knew how to throw a punch. He and Jared had tangled on more than
one occasion growing up and Jamison…well, she’d taken exception to his and Jared’s
teasing one night and ended up clocking both of them.

Still, those long-ago memories didn’t mean he wasn’t going to have his say. He might
be wary, but he was nobody’s pussy, after all. “Jamison, I’m glad you’re here—”

He never got the chance to finish his thought as seconds later, Wyatt, Quinn, and
Micah tumbled through the open door. They all looked a little worse for wear—Quinn
was also missing his shirt while Micah’s hung off of him in long, jagged strips and
Wyatt was in nothing but a pair of boxers. Not surprisingly, each of them wore wide,
satisfied grins. But then, exhibitionism had never been a problem for Shaken Dirty’s
members…or their groupies.

He glanced at Jamison, wondering if she would be upset. But she was smiling as she
drawled, “You boys look like you had a good time.”

“You know it, Jelly Bean!” Wyatt gave her a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek before
dropping face first onto the sofa. Seconds later, he started to softly snore.

Ryder caught Jared’s eye, saw his own worry mirrored there. Which only made him feel
worse. Jared was a pretty laid-back, take-things-as-they-came kind of guy. Pretty
much the opposite of Ryder and Jamison, though in very different ways. And if he was
stressed out about the Wyatt situation, then it had to be as bad as Ryder was imagining.
Maybe even worse.

He glanced between his bandmates’ faces, saw the strain they all tried to hide. And
knew that his suspicions were right. This wasn’t the first time Wyatt had used. It
was just the first time Ryder had caught him.

“Hey.” Steve, their bus driver, popped his head in from the front. “Everybody ready
to go?”

“Yeah,” Jared said. “Let’s get out of here.”

It was a testament to just how worried Ryder was about Wyatt that they were already
on the freeway heading north before it hit him.

Jamison was still on board.

Chapter Eleven

“What do you mean your sister is going on tour with us?” Ryder asked for what had
to be the fifth time. He, Jared, and the rest of the guys—sans Wyatt—were in the back
bedroom discussing her sudden appearance on the bus. They were making an effort to
keep their voices low, but the bus was too small for real privacy. Especially when
she was standing a few feet away from the closed door, doing her best to eavesdrop
without actually putting a glass—or her ear—up against that same door.

As it was, she’d heard enough to make her want to sink through the floor. Jared had
assured her that he would clear it with the guys before anything was decided for sure,
but obviously that assurance hadn’t been worth much. Maybe it was a good thing he
was on the other side of that door. If he hadn’t been, she’d be tempted to kick his
ass.

“What’s the big deal anyway?” Jared demanded. “You love Jamison. She loves you guys.
She’s a great cook. I don’t see the downside.”

“I don’t have a problem with it,” Quinn said. “Your sister’s great.”

“Absolutely,” Micah chimed in. “And if she’s going to cook for us, I say,
hell, yeah
.”

Jamison smiled at the support. She really did love these guys and it would hurt if
they didn’t want her to tag along with them for a few weeks. She’d understand— or
at least she told herself she would—but it would still hurt.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” Ryder’s voice, when it came, was so low she
had to strain to hear it. Then was sorry she had. “I don’t want her here.”

“You know, you can’t penalize her for what happened between you two last night.”

“Whoa. What happened between them?” Quinn demanded.

“You tapped Jelly Bean?” Micah sounded more intrigued than scandalized.

“Don’t even think about it, asshole!” Ryder and Jared growled the exact same thing
at the exact same time.

Then Ryder continued, “That’s not what I’m doing and you know it.” He sounded furious.
“Anything can happen to her if she’s on tour with us. You know a lot of these guys
aren’t trustworthy, right?”

“Which is why I talked to Max about staying away from her. The word has already spread
about how you took him apart—Jamison will be fine. Plus, I feel a hell of a lot more
comfortable with her here, where we can watch her, than in that dismal little apartment
searching for a job anywhere she can get one.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is—just give her some money. Or if you don’t want to,
then I will. She can get a decent place to live and—”

The alarm she’d set forty minutes earlier chose that minute to go off. Jamison leaped
away from the door and dove for her cell phone, which was sitting on the kitchen counter
next to the small stove. She blinked tears out of her eyes, shocked at just how desperate
Ryder was to get rid of her. He actually wanted to pay her to go away? Had kissing
her really been that bad?

Mortified heat flooded her cheeks as she bent to pull from the oven the apple cobbler
she’d made from the ingredients she’d cleared out of her apartment. If she’d had any
better options—or any options at all, really—she would have been out of there. As
it was, she was stuck and she knew it. She wanted to put her head down and sob at
the unfairness of it. She wanted her job back, along with her independence. Even more,
she wanted the relationship she’d had with Ryder just yesterday. How could things
have gotten so horrible between them so quickly?

She didn’t have time to cry, though. Didn’t have time to do anything but put the apple
cobbler on the counter before the door to the bedroom swung wide open, the guys obviously
alerted that something was up by the sound of her too-loud alarm.

Seconds later, the tiny kitchen was filled with large, handsome males, still in varying
states of undress, all of them jockeying to see where the sweet cinnamon-and-sugar
smell was coming from.

“You baked for us?” Quinn sounded ecstatic as he reached out and snagged a clump of
the sugary crumble off the top and popped it in his mouth. He moaned a second later.
“God, that’s good!”

“Jared, could you get me the ice cream out of the freezer behind you?” she asked as
she reached for five plates from the cabinet next to the refrigerator.

“That’s it,” Micah said with a glare in Ryder’s direction. “Jamison stays.”

“Damn straight,” Quinn agreed.

Jared didn’t say anything—she knew he hadn’t planned on this going any other way—but
neither did Ryder, who just stood there, returning Micah’s glare with interest.

Though she was embarrassed all over again, Jamison pretended not to notice. Instead,
she concentrated on dishing up five large portions of dessert and handing them out
to the ravenous guys.

She deliberately avoided looking at Ryder as she handed him his plate, but he was
having none of it. “Hey,” he said, blocking her into the corner so she couldn’t take
more than one step without bumping her body against his—something she would rather
die than do at this point. “You know this isn’t about you, right?”

It sure felt like it was about her. Not that she was going to say that to him. If
she did, she was afraid she’d end up crying and that she would
not
do. Not when she’d already had more than her fair share of humiliation this week.

When she didn’t answer, he said her name all deep and rumbly and determined. If she’d
had her way, she would have stood there all night, refusing to meet his eyes until
he finally gave up and went away. But she was conscious of the other guys watching
them. So she dug deep, put on her breeziest smile and most carefree look. “Didn’t
I give you enough ice cream?” she teased gently, knowing his weakness for the stuff.

“Jamison…”

God. Why was he making this so difficult for her? Couldn’t he see she was desperate
to get away from him?

“It’s okay.” She reached up and patted his cheek with a playfulness she was far from
feeling. “I promise, I won’t attack you in your sleep. Your virtue is safe with me.”

“Damn it! That’s not what I meant.” His frustration was obvious and her knees quivered
a little as she wondered what he was going to do next. Which was stupid as there was
nothing he could do, not in front of the other guys. And not when Jared had obviously
had enough. Her brother wrapped his hand around her wrist and gently tugged her out
of Ryder’s reach.

Grateful for the rescue, she went over to sit on the couch next to Wyatt. He was taking
up most of the sofa, so she perched carefully on the edge of the middle cushion, then
placed a gentle hand on the center of his back. “Come on, sweetie. Don’t you want
any dessert? I made your favorite.”

And she had. Partly because the apples she’d brought from home were pretty much the
only thing she had to work with and partly because she’d seen the darkness in his
eyes the night before and she’d wanted to lighten it, even for a few moments. When
she’d been growing up, he’d spent almost as much time at their house as Ryder had
and she’d been as crazy about him—but in a totally platonic way—as she’d always been
about Ryder.

Wyatt stirred, opened bleary eyes. “Jelly Bean?”

“Come on, sweetie. Why don’t you eat something?” She hated the way she could see the
bumps in his spine, the way she could count every rib.

“Not hungry.” He turned his face away, closed his eyes again.

Tears trembled on her lashes, this time for a totally different reason. “How long
has he been using?” she demanded, her harsh whisper echoing in the sudden silence
of the bus.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.” Ryder glared at his fellow bandmates.

Jared held his hands up. “I was as surprised as you tonight.”

Quinn shifted guiltily. “I thought he might have been high the other night, but I
wasn’t sure. It’s the only other time I’ve noticed.”

Micah didn’t say anything, which was strange enough that it had all of them looking
at him. “What?” he said, around a mouthful of ice cream. “I didn’t know.”

“Really?” Ryder asked. “You sure about that?”

He shrugged. “Okay, yeah, I suspected. Have for a while, really. But I didn’t kno—”

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell us?” Jared demanded. “The fact that our drummer is using
again is pretty pertinent information.”

“He’s fine,” Micah answered with a careless roll of his eyes. He seemed a lot more
interested in his dessert than he did in Wyatt’s problems. “He’s keeping it together.”

“That’s not the point.” Ryder’s arms were crossed, his eyes a hard obsidian. “We agreed
we’d watch out for him.”

“I
was
watching out for him. I was watching out for all of us! We can’t afford to blow this
tour, not now when we’re about to hit really big—”

“Really? That matters more to you than if he kills himself?”

“Don’t be such a drama queen, Ryder. He’s obviously fine—none of you guys even noticed
before tonight. Besides, you’re damn right it matters. I’m not in this band for my
fucking health, you know. I want to go big, really big and this is our shot.” He shoved
another bite of cobbler in his mouth, chewed, swallowed. Then shrugged. “Besides,
having a fucked up drummer just gives us street cred. Feeds the mystique.”

Jamison gasped, shocked at the way Micah talked about Wyatt and his very real demons.
She glanced around, realized the rest of the guys didn’t look shocked. Just disgusted.
Suddenly the gulf she’d sensed between them and Micah last night made so much more
sense. She couldn’t help wondering what had happened to him. Or if he’d always been
like this and they’d just never noticed before.

Ryder lunged across the short distance between them, got in Micah’s face with a growl
so deadly it sent shivers of dread sliding down her spine. “Keep it up, asshole, and
the only ride you’re going to be taking is straight back to Austin, one way.”

“Oh, yeah?” Micah straightened up, shoved Ryder in the chest. “And who’s going to
make me?”

“Oh, I am.” Ryder hadn’t so much as flinched under Micah’s assault, but when he shoved
him back, the bass player stumbled. Would have gone down if he hadn’t managed to catch
himself on the kitchen counter. “If you don’t start looking out for the band instead
of number one, I’ll fucking ruin you. And I won’t even think twice about it.”

Jamison was shocked at the anger that throbbed between the two, wondered what had
caused it. Ryder, Wyatt, Micah and Jared had been close friends for well over fifteen
years. Quinn had come along a little later—just about ten years ago—but he’d fit in
seamlessly and it hadn’t taken long before he was a close-knit member of the group.
But when she looked at Jared and Quinn, they both looked as disgusted with the bass
player as Ryder was.

Before she could say anything to diffuse the tension, Wyatt rolled over and shoved
himself into a sitting position. “Jeez, I was just having a little fun. Nothing for
any of you to get so bent out of shape about. Relax, will you?”

“It doesn’t look like much fun from where I’m sitting,” she told him softly enough
that the others couldn’t hear, before moving to stand up.

His hand shot out, pulled her back so that she was cuddled into his side. “Don’t go,
Jelly Bean.”

Surprised, she glanced into his face. Saw those damn demons prowling behind his eyes
no matter how carefree he sounded. Relaxing against him, she murmured, “I’m not going
anywhere, Wy.”

“Good.” He draped an arm over her shoulder.

“But you’ve got to eat for me.” She held up a spoonful of the apple crumble. “You’re
way too skinny.”

“You sound like my grandmother.”

“Obviously a wise woman.”

His smile, when it came, was a little off, but the darkness in his eyes had dissipated
some. It dispelled more when he leaned forward and she slid a bite of dessert into
his open mouth. “God, that’s good.”

He allowed her to feed him a few more bites before he buried his head in the curve
of her neck and rubbed his nose back and forth against the sensitive skin there. Jamison
laughed at his tickling, then shoved at his head in response. “You smell like cinnamon.”
He sniffed deeply before rubbing his face against her again.

“And you smell like dirty sweat socks.” She poked him in the ribs, tried to wriggle
away from him. He responded by putting the plate aside and tickling her in earnest.

“Oh, yeah? I’ll show you sweat socks.” He wrestled with her, doing his best to get
her face into his bare armpit.

She fought him, but her struggles weren’t all that effective considering she was laughing
like a hyena all the while.

“Knock it off, Wyatt!” Ryder snapped.

Wyatt ignored him, flipping her around so that he was on top of her. She continued
to wrestle with him, but he was way too strong for her. He might be too skinny, but
years of playing the drums gave him really impressive upper body strength.

She could hear Jared and Quinn laughing from the sidelines, calling encouragement
to her though they made absolutely no attempt to intervene. It only made her fight
harder—she’d spent her adolescence wrestling with these guys. Now that she was a grown
woman, she’d be damned if she lost as easily as she had at twelve.

“Take it back,” Wyatt taunted her from above, his wild blue eyes filled with laughter
for once. That, more than anything else, convinced her to keep struggling. If she
gave in, no doubt he’d go right back to brooding. Right back to hurting. She couldn’t
stand that. Not when she knew how self-destructive he could become. “Come on, Jamison.
Say I smell good and I’ll let you go.”

“Never!” she cried, closing her eyes and bucking against him.

He gave a maniacal laugh. “Then prepare to pay—” He stopped mid-cackle, his grip loosening
abruptly as his words cut off.

Then she was free.

Jamison opened her eyes to see Ryder standing above her like a conquering barbarian,
his drummer dangling from his hands like he weighed nothing. Then he was tossing Wyatt
aside and reaching for her hand.