Page 37 of One Time Only (One Time Only 1)
I rap my knuckles against his sternum. “Your soft marshmallow heart.”
Zane laughs, then throws his arms around me. “I love you like a brother.”
I laugh. “Dude. Same.”
“Also, you have a marshmallow heart too,” he says when we separate.
“Maybe I do.”
And maybe that soft heart seems to get a little mushier around a certain six-foot-four Adonis.
That gives me an idea.
A brilliant idea.
The solution to my two-track brain. “I’ll take the plunge with you.” I raise my hand in a Scout’s honor oath as well. “Care to make a friendly wager?”
“What’s the wager?”
“Neither one of us gets involved from now till the show ends. A week of rehearsals and the two-week gig. Neither one of us falls in love. If either does, I owe you one of my Grammys.”
“You think I want your Grammy?”
I roll my eyes. “You can sell it on eBay, dickhead.”
“I don’t want anything from you but respect. I want to prove to you that I won’t mess up your show.”
“And I want to prove I have faith in you. So, I’m taking the no-love plunge.”
“Brothers-in-arms,” he says, and we shake on it.
This is what I need. Accountability. Someone I can make a promise to.
Real stakes to resist Jackson.
And a chance for my brother to wriggle away from a bad influence in the form of our dad.
“You’re on. We will have our hearts in lockdown,” he says. Then he eyes my hair, flicking his fingers at it. “But what’s up with the hair? You’re growing it out?”
I pat the back of my head. “It’s a little longer than the last time I saw you. I’m still fuck-hot.”
“Remember the tour where you had your best reviews? Your hair was shorter.”
I send a text to my assistant asking her to schedule a haircut for me tomorrow.
Stat.As I lift my chai at lunch with Nadia the next day, I’m feeling pretty damn good. Zane is already working with the tech crew, the early run-through of my songs was flawless, and this second detox is definitely going to keep me in tip-top shape for the two-week run.
I give my friend the basics. “Plus, I’m going to be focused AF. Last night, I even swore to Zane I wouldn’t fall in love.”
She chuckles, then takes a sip of her coffee. “But that should be easy. You’ve never been in love, Stone.”
“That is true. Stone by name, heart of stone by nature,” I say, then furrow my brow. “Was that too easy a promise to make? Should I have thrown down harder?”
“You tell me. Was it?”
I give a casual shrug. “Nah. It’s going to be a piece of cake.”
But her dark eyes stay locked on mine, like she’s studying me. “Is there someone you’re going to miss for the next few weeks?”
I haven’t told her about Jackson. Haven’t told anyone. Why would I? There’s nothing to tell. And I’m not a kisser and teller. Or a sucker and teller.
I scoff. “Nope. I’m free as a bird.”
And I feel that way until Jackson walks into my suite that afternoon for his shift, and seeing him reminds me that this—resisting him—is what’s truly hard. Because, hell, I just like the guy.
That is becoming its own massive problem.16JacksonSix miles in the morning.
Jujitsu after that.
A check-in with Ryan for his job interviews.
A bank transfer to the credit card company.
I scrub a hand across the back of my neck, trying to erase the tension—the inevitable tension—that comes with that reminder.
The balance is only a bit smaller.
But still, it’s shrinking.
Thanks to the job.
My afternoon begins with advance scouting—checking out some of the press stops Stone will make during his residency—as well as a routine check of the theater in The Extravagant where he’ll perform.
He played here the other month, so we know it well, but double-checking, then triple-checking, is the name of my game.
I conduct the advance survey then write up a report for the rest of the personal security team and email that out to Cruz, Terrence, the backup guys, and the weekend bodyguards.
Cruz replies in seconds via text.Cruz: Thanks for the info. Also, would you recommend pepperoni or sausage on a pizza?I roll my eyes. I swear he’s not ever going to let me live down the pizza comment from the night I left Stone’s room late. I have no idea if he knows what we were up to, but I’m not letting on, so I reply with a joke. But, like most jokes, it contains the truth.Jackson: I prefer sausage. Maybe you’d like a peach on yours.Cruz: Dude. That’d be donuts.I cringe. Not because of the donut comparison to a woman. But because . . .Jackson: Donuts on pizza sounds horrible.Cruz: No shit! But in any case, to each his own.He leaves it at that. And I’m grateful. Grateful he didn’t give me a hard time that night I left Stone’s room late. Grateful he’s giving me a hard time now. We’re buds, and that’s what we do.
