I knew I had to talk to him to take responsibility for the accident, but I was procrastinating, uncertain of the best timing to do it. Exhaling deeply, I finally decided it would be better to talk to him now and clear up any misunderstandings instead of waiting for him to cool down and risk the issue festering.

I rapped my knuckles against the door.

"I’m not talking to anybody right now." Jax’s voice boomed through the door, brusque and guttural, confirming my worry that he was still in a bad mood.

Nervous, I cleared my throat. "Jax, it’s me."

There was a shuffle and the door pulled inward. Jax’s statuesque silhouette filled the doorway. He was shirtless but still wore his patented leather pants; they fit so well that they looked like they were made for him. A hard expression on his face softened when our eyes met.

"Riley," he said with a gentler tone. "Sorry about that. I didn’t know it was you." He sighed, looking worn from agitation. "What’s up?"

I caught a glance behind him and saw that the room was a mess. Concert outfits were strewn along the floor and there was a broken guitar among them, the strings flexed in curls. It wasn’t the typical neatness Jax preferred. Had he done all of that?

"Jax, I . . . um, wanted to talk to you about something."

He studied my expression, his face becoming concerned. He touched his warm hand to my cheek. "What’s wrong?"

I took a deep breath. "I wanted to apologize for what happened with the pyro . . . I’m the one who cut it."

His hand brushing my cheek stilled. His brows turned to steep lines. "What did you say?"

"I cut the pyro, Jax. I’m sorry."

He pulled away as if I’d burned him. He then closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You need to leave."

"Jax, I—"

"Stop." Pointing down the hallway, he looked me directly in the eyes. "Go wait for me on the bus. We’re going to talk about this," he said, his voice barely concealing his anger. Then he slammed the door in my face.

I stood there in disbelief. I had the urge to bang on the door and scream at him for treating me like a child, but I resisted the urge. Just barely. His tone shocked me and hurt me, making my throat constrict and my eyes sting.

Blinking rapidly, I backed away from the door and hurried out of the venue, trying to make sense of what just happened. As I hurried back to the bus, I thought about how in just a few hours we went from being closer than we’d ever been to being infuriated with each other.

Chapter Thirteen

HEATED

I sat on the first floor couch with my arms folded across my chest and my flats tapping the ground impatiently. I was the only one on the bus, while everyone else was probably out partying. I felt ridiculous, stupid even, like I was back in kindergarten and Mrs. Elswick put me into timeout for jumping on the other kids during naptime. It’d been well over an hour since Jax slammed a door in my face. How long was he going to make me wait for him? If anything, he was the one acting like a kid.

Groaning in frustration, I went upstairs to get some air on the sundeck. I took a seat at the bar and poured myself a glass of whiskey, hoping to calm my nerves.

It was midway through my second round when Jax suddenly appeared from the stairwell, his expression serious. He’d put on a shirt that matched his black leather pants since I last saw him. As always, he looked too gorgeous. No matter how much I wanted to avoid him, push him away, or be mad at him, I couldn’t help the part of me that was attracted to him.

I set my glass down and felt the welling of emotions rise to the surface. I stood and pointed angrily at him. "You made me wait almost two hours for you! I told you, I was sorry. I thought we were past these petty games!"

"Sit down," he commanded, pointing to the barstool I’d risen from. "The time for games is f**king over. You crossed the line messing up my goddamn show! I knew I shouldn't have trusted you."

His voice shook me. I was scared at first but then I realized he was yelling at me for something that wasn’t entirely my fault. I remained standing. "I did what I had to do! You're the one who's acting like a damn princess!"

He approached me, shaking his head as if I didn’t get it. "You asked me to make cuts, and I did. Now you're making cuts behind my back . . ." He snatched my drink from the counter and pounded away the remaining contents. "All for that f**king bonus," he said, slamming the glass down so that the ice cubes rattled.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, taken aback. "That's not the way it is—"

His eyes blazed. "I let you sleep in my bed. I let you talk me into trusting you. You said you wanted to keep things professional between us, but here you've been f**king with me this whole time."

Oh god, that’s what he thinks? I could hear it simmering beneath the surface, in his voice and in his words—the tension between us that had been building over the past couple of days as we’d gotten closer.

He grabbed my arm, firmly enough to be intimidating. "Tell me, what was going through your head when you made the cut, huh? Did you trick the pyrotech too?"

My eyes stung. I threw his arm off me. "Damn it, Jax!" I cried, unable to stop a tear from falling down my cheek as I faced him. "The fire marshall came to talk to me! I had to make a choice."

"What?" he said, his volume still elevated.

I wiped my cheek with the back of my hand. "He said we had to either cut the Monster Inferno or pay an extra ten grand for ballistics insurance."

The fire in his eyes waned. His brows furrowed. "The f**k?"

"There wasn't time to check with you! I had to make a decision. And I did."

He put his hand to his head and exhaled in a rush. "God. Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve changed the routine if I’d known."

"I told the pyrotech, I thought he was going to tell you!"

His hand covered his eyes and he shook his head. "Fuck."

"I know," I said softly. "I’m sorry."

"Jesus . . ." he said shaking his head lightly. "Ten grand for insurance? Really?"

"Yeah."

An uncomfortable silence passed between us that seemed to last an eternity. We’d apparently cleared up the miscommunication, but the damage had been done. It was obvious that the unspoken tension between us was becoming a problem—not just for me, but for him as well. It’d be easier for the both of us if we could end whatever this weird thing was between us and start over as professionals.

"Jax, I've been thinking—"

Strong arms wrapped around my body, pulling me into his Jax’s chest. My train of thoughts faltered. I could only think about how good it felt to be embraced in his arms. I could feel his warmth cocooning me, his beating chest pressed against my tear-stained cheek. It felt right, like the first thing in years that made sense in my chaotic life.

He released the hug and looked down at me.

"What was that for?" I asked, surprised.

His dark eyes were gentle as they stared into mine. "I’m sorry for blaming you."

I blushed. "Well, that's a nice gesture," I said, meaning it.

He tilted his head and touched his lips tenderly to mine. Caught off guard, it took a second before I remembered that I owed him a post-show kiss. I began to reciprocate, pressing my lips softly against his. It was nearly the opposite of the lust-driven kiss we’d had last time. This one was almost scary in its intimacy.