The Reverse of Perfection (Bad Decisions Book 2) by Christi Barth

Author:Christi Barth [Barth, Christi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-05-16T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

A lot of performers bitched about being stuck on tour buses—no matter how tricked out they were. Of course, they also bitched about being stuck on private planes. All of that enforced inactivity drove them nuts. But Dylan loved spending time on the bus. He could sleep through anything, so it was a guaranteed good way to catch up on zzzs between concerts. Their bunks weren’t luxurious, by any stretch. The long black ultrasuede couch and matching recliner more than made up for them, though.

He’d staked out the recliner to avoid any possibility of putting his hands on Ariel, who sat at the desk opposite covered in laptops and sheet music. Sexy Ariel, who wore cutoffs on this travel day that showed off her tanned, toned legs.

Beautiful Ariel, with the midmorning sun beaming through the windows onto her, causing a halo effect.

Adorable Ariel, who he’d discovered nibbled on the ends of her hair when she was deep in emailing.

Hot-as-hell Ariel, who had kept him up past dawn on what was now officially the best night of his life.

Smart and dedicated Ariel, who didn’t just bark instructions at him, but strategized and talked through her plans with him over the past few days, in between rehearsals and two sold-out concerts in Denver. Who took the time to approach him as a partner.

His other publicists had handed down edicts. They’d never bothered to involve him. Working together made a lot more sense and let him see how her brilliant mind worked. One of the reasons he’d gone solo was because Dylan was sick of taking orders. Even though Ariel was hired to boss him around, she didn’t. She listened. Made the effort to incorporate his wants and needs into her plans.

A loud grinding noise came from below as gears shifted. They must be climbing yet another peak on the way out of Vail. Right. The bus. What he’d started thinking about to distract him from staring at his gorgeous secret girlfriend.

The bus was a great way to connect with the guys. Not as his idols. As people. As fellow musicians. Jones was practicing a riff on his thighs. Cam shared the table with his sister, scowling over his guitar and plucking at random chords. None of it distracted Dylan from thinking up his own songs. Only Ariel did that. Ariel and her soft laugh and softer breasts…

No. Songs. New songs. Dylan couldn’t waste all this perfect songwriting time thinking about how sweet she tasted on his tongue, how responsive she was to his touch, how she worked so damn hard to help turn around his flagging career. How she’d gotten jealous at the thought of him actually doing something with the women she’d pushed on him. Jealousy was good. Jealousy meant that he mattered to her. That it wasn’t just sex, and it wasn’t just business between them. Jealousy meant she cared.

Huh. That’d be an interesting theme for a song. And wouldn’t it be fun to surprise her with one? Dylan picked up his legal pad and hovered his pen right above it.

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