“Have you been working much?”
Holding my phone between my ear and the crook of my neck, I rub my palms down the front of my shorts. So far, working as Lucas’s wardrobe consultant has consisted of very little consulting and limited wardrobe. Literally. No doubt Gram’s already aware of that. “Not as much as I would at home.” Because that’s a safe answer, right?
“Well, I can’t wait to have you back here.”
“It’ll only be for a few days.” Most of which will be spent helping out on the set of a new Nashville-based reality show. Better to prepare her for not seeing me around much now, so she’s not disappointed next week. “There’s a lot of work to be done while I’m home.”
She pulls in a breath to speak, but she’s cut off by what sounds like a man telling her something in a soft, clipped voice. “Sienna, honey, I’m going to have to call you back. I’ve got an appointment that—”
Since she’s been my biggest supporter for as long as I can remember, shielding Seth and me from whatever bullshit my mother threw our way, I’ve always been protective of my grandmother. Hearing the word “appointment” instantly makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. “Is everything alright? You’re not sick, are you?”
“Calm down.” She releases a shaky laugh. “I’ve got an appointment with a lawyer.”
And without having to ask, I know this has something to do with Mom. I bring my hand back up to my phone and grip it with all my might. “I hope she’s not asking you to spend your money on hiring someone for her.”
“It’s just a consultation. I can promise you that I haven’t spent a penny.”
“Sorry, I just . . .”
When she interrupts me, her voice is soothing. “I know, and I love you so much for who you are. I’ll call you when I get home, alright?”
I find myself nodding; despite the fact that the only people nearby are a couple of roadies walking past who are in a heated debate about bass guitars.
“I love you, too,” I whisper.
After she hangs up, I sit my phone in my lap and stare down at the beach-inspired wallpaper until the screen goes black. There’s a part of me that’s dying to know why my mom has Gram going to an attorney but the other part—that’s completely wary of any of any of Mom’s motives—trumps that. She’s caused so much heartbreak, so much stress, for my grandmother that I can barely think of her without feeling a bitter twist in the pit of my belly.
I start to head back inside the bus but then I see Lucas and Cal coming off the one parked on the other side of the venue’s back lot. Lucas’s hazel eyes lock with mine and his lips lift slightly. Though he’s deep in conversation with Cal, he motions me to him. Pushing myself to my feet, I slip my phone back into my pocket and head over to them.
Cal turns his Monster can up to his lips, and when he lowers it, his dark eyes are dancing with laughter. “Sinjin scare you away?”
Moving my head from side to side, I stop beside of Lucas. Without looking at me, he works his arm around my waist, pulling me to his side. Like always, his touch is magnetic, and I melt against him, not caring that it’s as hot as the depths of Hades in Houston right now. “I can handle Sinjin. Even if he is pants-less right now.”
“Sounds about right.” Cal offers me a flash of his straight white teeth. “I think this means she’s inviting herself over to our bus.”
“Over my dead f**king body.” Lucas grins down at me, looking more relaxed than I’ve seen him in a few days. “Sinjin is tame compared to Cal.”
“Wyatt balances me,” Cal argues. “He’s been as virginal as—” He runs his gaze over the length of me before cocking his head to one side. “Well, shit, he’s just been virginal.”
I bite my lip to keep from smiling. There’s a sound against a window inside of the bus, and I tilt my head back to see a pink-manicured finger tapping a rhythmic beat on the glass. “I think you’re being summoned.”
Looking behind him, Cal waves at the woman inside of the bus before turning back to Lucas and me. “Looks like I am. God, I love Houston.” He shoots us a wicked grin as he heads up the bus steps. After stepping inside, he grabs something from behind the door. I’m surprised when he holds a guitar out to me, wiggling it around until I accept.
“Enjoy,” Cal tells me. “Lucas-Fucking-Wolfe has good taste.”
I don’t get a chance to respond before the door slams in my face. I draw away from Lucas, running my fingertips along the body of the Gibson guitar. It’s beautiful—with a mahogany back and sides. “You plan on teaching me how to play this thing?” I ask gently, and he nods.
“I missed your birthday in June.” He takes the guitar out of my hands, holding it effortlessly as he leads me back to our bus. “Figured if you can play a piano like that, I can talk you into this, too.”
Twisting my face, I study his expression carefully, searching for any of the stress that’s been there the last few days. It’s not there, but then again, Lucas is good at hiding his emotions. I press my palm to his hard chest, letting the steady beat of his heart drum against my hand.
“It’s perfect,” I say. As he walks up the steps of the bus, I curl my fingers into his tee shirt, stopping him from going inside.
“What is it?”
I pinch my lips together and then relax my mouth. “Is everything okay?”
He gives me one of those soft looks that pull me apart, piece-by-piece. “Never been better, Red.”