When we’re climbing the steps of the tour bus with the sounds of Motörhead blasting from the speakers over the crew’s laughter, I glance back at Belle to find her bottom lip caught between her teeth, eyes lit with worry. Something clearly shifted after our visit with Grandma Caroline, though I haven’t decided if it was actually in my favor. I know I shouldn’t be forcing her into making any more decisions and should probably lay off the talk of love since it obviously makes her uncomfortable. By the time this tour is over, I hope that will change.
The elegant bus was something I only had a small say in because Normie had already paid the deposit. I can’t get behind the idea of wasting money on shit that doesn’t matter in the end and can’t be considered a solid investment. It’s true we’ll be spending a lot of time in it, and I was glad he chose one with bigger bunks, but the luxury upgrade wasn’t necessary. The place already smells like dirty feet, and the guys have done their best to trash the place with empty bottles and crumbs from food on every surface. I grimace and make a mental note to have a talk with them later.
“There’s my girl!” Reggie cheers, launching forward to lift Belle into the air. She looks childlike in his arms as she makes a little squeaking noise. Most of all, she appears uncomfortable as hell.
I jab him in the ribs. “She’s my girl, fucker. Stop fondling her.” As he’s setting her back on her feet, I glare at the other guys sitting spread-eagle on the furniture. “And someone clean up this shithole. If you animals can’t control yourself on this tour, you can find your own ride. This isn’t Club Med.”
“Sure thing, boss-man,” Dillon answers smartly, lifting his middle finger in a salute.
Belle huffs beside me, arms crossed over her stomach. “Don’t even think about asking me to cook or clean up after you guys on this tour. Just because I have tits doesn’t mean I’m domestic.”
“Holy shit,” Rip says with a can of beer held to his lips. “I think I’m in love with this woman.”
Shooting him a warning glare, I sling my arm around Belle’s neck, drawing her tight against me. “Guys, this is my Belle. Anyone fucks with her, I’ll break your face. Are we clear?”
Rip chuckles, waving his hand in the air. “I’m Rip.”
Dillon raises his hand while looking down at his phone. “Dillon.”
“We met last night when I helped to escort you into the hotel, but you seemed a little too preoccupied to notice,” Luke says with a deep laugh. “I’m Luke. We’re going to get to know each other real well, sweetheart. I’ve been commissioned as your personal bodyguard on this tour. Once the fans figure out you’re with Roman, I’ll become the shadow you never knew you needed.”
Normie appears from the back end of the bus, his expression flat lining with the sight of Belle. “And you’ve already met my friendly manager,” I say to her as I pin him down with a warning stare. “Over the next six months he’ll become your new best friend. Isn’t that right, Normie?”
The prick shakes his head dismissively before approaching Dillon and Rip on the couch, wagging his finger in their direction. “I better not smell any pot on this goddamned bus. Smoke that shit outside if you have to.”
“Ten-four, captain,” Dillon replies.
Normie storms past Belle and me toward the exit, bumping into her along the way. “We’re rolling out in twenty minutes.”
“You got it, bestie,” Belle replies smartly.
With a chuckle, I press a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ll have another talk with him.”
“Don’t bother,” she mutters.
“You drink beer?” Reggie asks her as he starts for the stainless steel fridge.
Belle nods. “I’ll drink anything with alcohol.”
Reggie flips the top off two bottles and hands them to us. “Welcome to the shit-show, darlin’.” He clinks his drink against Belle’s and she laughs before taking a sip.
“It won’t be anything I haven’t seen before,” she says as she’s drawing the bottle away from her lips. “I’m in a band with two guys who have no problem wearing the same clothes to rehearsal several days in a row.”
“No shit?” Rip sits tall, taking too much interest in her story. “You sing? Play guitar?”
“Lead vocalist.” She takes a swig of her beer. “I don’t officially play an instrument, but I’ve been dabbling with the piano and I know my way around a guitar.”
“No shit?” I ask this time, looking down on her with surprise. “When did you learn to play?”