“You’re Liberty, right?”

She squinted at the guy with longish brown hair, a soul patch and a sweet smile. His bulging biceps indicated he hauled heavy objects. “Yes, I am. Who are you?”

“Name’s Check. I handle the band’s instruments.”

“Do they call you Check because you’re the guy who says ‘Check, check’ into the microphones before the show?”

He groaned. “Original, huh? But no one would know who you were talking about if you said my given name—so Check is easier.”

Liberty smiled. “Did you need something?”

“Saw you sitting here and came by to say hey. I wondered if you’d met the other equipment guys.”

“Just Boomer and the dude with the cigar.”

“That’s large-and-in-charge Sarge. He’s head of stage setup, front-of-house merchandise stalls and roadies.”

Liberty’s gaze landed on Check’s tattoo—a marine insignia. “A jarhead, huh? How long?”

“Eight years.” He cocked his head. “Which branch owned your soul?”

“Army. Twelve years. Been out a little over two.”

That seemed to impress him. “A lot of us guys in this line of work did our time in uniform.”

They started bullshitting about the life that only those who’d lived it could understand. Swapping good-natured insults. Trying to one up each other with stories.

Then Sarge showed up, bringing chairs for himself, as well as Mike—who oddly enough didn’t handle the sound system—and Rick, who rotated between driving the equipment truck and the band’s bus.

For the first time in days, Liberty was completely in her element.

She’d just finished a story with “I don’t give a flying monkey’s ass if you’re a f**kin’ general. Find me some goddamn coffee or I’ll shoot you myself,” and the guys were laughing uproariously when the door behind her opened.

The laughter died. Immediately, Check, Rick, Mike and Sarge pushed to their feet. Check said, “See ya around. Come have a beer with us some night.”

She looked up at Devin, who wasn’t wearing the smug smile of a sexually satisfied man but an expression of annoyance.

The groupies sauntered out, each stopping to whisper in Devin’s ear before snatching their purses. “Can’t wait for the show tonight,” the busty brunette tossed over her shoulder.

Neither she nor Devin said anything as the women sashayed down the hallway. It surprised her that the blonde didn’t throw out her back from the exaggerated sway of her hips.

Liberty stood and stretched. Rather than say, “Finished already?” she opted for, “Ready to go back to the bus?”

“I’ve decided to stay and work on new material until the show starts.”

She glanced at her watch. “Backup security should be here soon. I’ll make sure they don’t bother you.” She grimaced when her ass connected with the hard metal seat again.

“You wanna sit in here?”

So she could choke on the scents of sex and cheap perfume? Uh, no, thanks. “I’m fine.”

“Are you hoping your roadie admirers will come back and entertain you?” he said sharply. “You guys were incredibly f**kin’ loud.”

“Did it hurt your vocal cords to have to shout out your climax over our conversation in the hallway?” The instant she said that, she wished she could take it back. Not professional, Masterson. “Sorry. That was out of line.”

Devin said nothing.

She kept her features schooled as she flipped through the notes she’d taken, hoping he’d get the hint and return to his love nest.

No such luck. Devin crouched beside her. “My roadies ain’t dumb. Didn’t any of them question why a woman with a military career would be parading around as my personal assistant?”

Her gaze squared off with his. “First of all, sir, I worked as a personal assistant to my CO during my third tour, so taking this job isn’t such a stretch. And you’re right; those guys aren’t dumb. They’ve been there. They know what it’s like to flounder after leaving the military.” She dropped her voice. “Second, my position with you is confidential. I’d never violate that for a cheap laugh or easy camaraderie. But I will be working with these guys for months. By being on good terms with them, I can better protect you.”

“Bein’ on good terms means you’re gonna take them up on their offer to drink beer?”

Jesus, if she didn’t know better, she’d think Devin was jealous. “No, sir.”

“Would you have a beer with me?”

What the hell? “No, sir. I don’t drink on the job.”

Annoyance flashed in his eyes. “Stop with the no, sir bullshit. We both know that sarcastic sir is your verbal shorthand for ass**le.”

The man saw far more than she credited him for. How would she survive four months with him when they’d managed to piss each other off at least once a day for the last two days?

His warm fingers slid beneath her chin, forcing her to look at him. Why did he have to have such compelling eyes? Why did her damn heart skip a beat when he touched her?

“I don’t want to always be at odds with you, Liberty.”

“Me either.”

“Good.” His face softened. “I forgot to say thank you for comin’ to the hospital with me today.”

Don’t be sweet. She had a better handle on things when he was being a douche. “You’re welcome.”