“Were you going to assign me a bus?” I ask, zipping up my bag. “Or just throw me under one?”

She winces, her nose wrinkling. “I know, I know. I am a gossiping hag. I was low on caffeine and in a pissy mood.” Her gaze travels over me as if looking for battle scars. “I didn’t think Scottie would flip his shit like that. He doesn’t normally have a bad temper, but he’s been a bit off lately.”

“Off?” I ask, despite not wanting to talk about The Incident at all.

“Distracted. Snippy.” Brenna shakes her head, her ponytail swaying over her shoulders. “He’s always fairly deadpan and unflappable, stone cold.”

Gabriel leaning into me, his breath on my cheek, whispering please flashes through my mind. That man wasn’t cold or unflappable. But I don’t want to think about that version of Gabriel. My attraction to him is inconvenient and annoying. I have a job to do—one other photographers would kill for.

But Brenna is still eyeing me with remorse and worry. “I am sorry, Sophie. I didn’t mean to set him on you like that. Do you want me to talk to him?“

And poke the bear? I can imagine how that would go. “No, it’s fine. We worked it out.”

She looks dubious but nods. “Right then. You’ll be traveling with the guys.”

“Really?” I don’t know where I expected to be placed in our traveling caravan, but I hadn’t thought right with the band.

“They like to travel in one coach for camaraderie, and your job is to capture that, so it makes the most sense.”

“And they’re okay with this?”

Brenna grabs one of my bags, and we exit the room, heading down to the waiting cars that will take us to the buses. “Yeah. They’re a pretty open bunch, all things considered. And they trust me when I say you won’t post without permission.”

Translation: Don’t fuck that trust up for me.

“I want to thank you again for this opportunity,” I tell her. “I won’t let you or the guys down.”

Brenna smiles. “I know. I’m a good judge of character.”

I have to laugh at that. “I am too. I just seem to ignore my common sense when I most need it.”

“Shit, if we’re talking about our love lives, I know I have you beat. I’m a train wreck with an atomic bomb on the top.”

Before we enter the coach, Brenna hands me a small key for later use. We’re alone for the moment, and she shows me around. There’s not much to see. The front has a lounge space and a galley kitchen-bar to the side. It’s dark and sleek, and there are three TVs on different walls.

“The guys store instruments and a few small amps in the bins,” she says, pointing to ebony wood cabinets overhead. “And then there are the bunks.”

Mid-bus is reserved for bunks that line both walls, leaving a narrow hall. Four beds and then a small master bedroom at the very back, with an even smaller bathroom between them.

“Killian and Libby have the bedroom,” Brenna tells me. “You get this top back bunk. It’s with the guys.” Her sherry-colored eyes narrow with worry. “You’re okay with this? Because if you’re not, it’s fine. I can move you to one of the roadie coaches.”

“They all have bunks too, don’t they?” I ask.

“Yes, I’m afraid we get cozy during tour travel. Except for Scottie, who has an entire bus to himself.”

“I’m not surprised in the least.”

“And a word of warning; don’t try to visit him there. He snarls if he finds anyone near his private spaces.”

He left me alone in his house today. Then keeps me at arm’s length in the next breath. I’m beginning to think the man simply doesn’t know how to let people into his life. “I’ll be fine rooming with the guys.”

“You will,” Brenna assures me. “They might be pigs now and then. But they’re good guys. The best. They’ll make you feel comfortable, I promise.”

“Who’s promising what?” Rye says as he hauls his muscled bulk onto the bus.

“That you’ll be nice to Sophie,” Brenna says with a stern look.

The big guy has one of those open faces that easily shows his emotions. He reminds me of a puppy, cute and exuberant. “Of course.” His smile is wide and framed by dimples. “Welcome aboard, lovely Sophie.”

Whip steps up behind him, his blue eyes flashing with impish humor. “Did you tell her about the initiation rites?”

“If it involves anything sexual,” I say blandly, “I offer free nuttings with a hundred-percent guarantee to leave a man incapacitated for an hour at minimum.”

Whip laughs. “I bet. Naw, you just have to drink a lot and make a fool of yourself at least once.” He runs his hand through coal back hair that reaches his collar. Effortlessly cool rocker. “But I promise to take the lead.”

Jax crams in behind him and gives him a nudge to move on. “Out of the way, pretty boy.”

Killian and Libby follow, and soon we’re all crowded in.

Brenna leaves us as the bus gets ready to go. But she’s right; they all make me feel comfortable and welcome. If I’m going to be stuffed in a bus with minimal privacy and space, bunking with these guys isn’t a bad option at all.

I remind myself of this and refuse to think of Gabriel Scott on his own bus, or how much space he must have to rattle around.

After settling in, I join the guys and Libby in the living area. Libby is putting out a tray of biscuits, but stops to offer me one before I sit.

“Get one now,” she tells me in her soft Southern drawl, “because these jackals will devour them in a second.”

I take a napkin and a flaky, hot biscuit. “You baked?”

She smiles wryly, and her grey eyes light up. “Made the dough before and froze it. Not much room for anything else.”

Killian’s hand reaches down between us, and he snatches two. “Best baker ever.” He gives Libby a quick kiss on her cheek. “Love you, Elly May.”

She rolls her eyes and sets the tray down for the guys. “I’m thinking you’re more loving my biscuits right now, lawn bum.”

“Never.”

They grin at each other, and I take a picture before sitting down. Killian is right; Libby is an excellent baker. And Libby is right; the food is devoured in a blink. I find a seat and simply watch the guys interact. There’s something comforting about witnessing old friends enjoy each other’s company.