Page 10 of A Way Out (Rock Star #2)

Chapter Nine

O z was unsurprised when Maria chased him down, even though he’d deliberately headed straight to his bedroom in hopes of deterring her. Surely, she would not want the reminder of her walking in on him buck naked.

He was wrong. Did that mean she wasn’t the least bit fazed by what happened? By staring at his junk while it inflated like she had been blowing on it?

He bit back a groan. He was giving his dick ideas. Swallowing down those very vivid images now in his head, he turned to face her as she stepped into his bedroom without knocking.

He almost wished he were naked again.

“Is that a yes or no?” she said without preamble. It was impressive the backbone she’d developed over the course of a day. Yesterday she’d been scared, a nervous wreck, unsure of seemingly anything in her life.

Now she was offering to sponsor a fledgling rock band with no history to prove that they could earn her money back. Talk about a risky investment.

“Are you acting out because of your divorce? And how are you planning to pay for this sponsorship, anyway? Your ex’s money?”

Jesus, he was a dick. But he didn’t take it back, not even when she paled and her eyes went wide before she swallowed and shook her head.

“It’s my money. Anything from Vic will be used strictly for Riley’s well-being.”

At least he now knew the ex’s name, not that it mattered. And he supposed she had integrity. Still…

“You told me you’ve never worked a day in your life. How could you possibly sponsor a band if you have no form of income?”

He was definitely trying to scare her off. The question was why. Did he want her to take back her offer to sponsor them? Or did he want to draw a line in the sand, make it clear that if she did this, she had to forget any attraction she had to him?

Or was he trying to do that to himself?

Her cheeks turned an alluring pink while her gaze found the floor.

“I, uh, have an inheritance,” she whispered.

“I’ve not touched it. I haven’t needed it.

” She lifted her gaze, caught his eye, held it.

“I want to do this. Not for you but for myself. You guys are amazing. All you need is a chance to prove it. I want to give you that chance.”

Well, damn. “Why?” he persisted anyway.

“Because I have never taken a chance in my entire life. I’ve never allowed myself to dream. And as weird as it sounds, this feels like I’m fulfilling my own dream. Even though I don’t even know what that dream is yet. So let me do it.”

That made sense.

What didn’t make sense was his wavering commitment. Or maybe what didn’t make sense was the fact that he’d committed to this band in the first place.

Because his priorities were his kids. And his mother. He couldn’t leave them high and dry while he went off to chase his dreams.

That was the real problem. He’d been stalling for months. They’d formed the band in January, came up with the name, recorded an EP. Even put one of the songs, “A Way Out,” up on Spotify and YouTube.

It was getting decent downloads. He’d created an Instagram account for the band, but when he couldn’t keep up because he was working too damn much, he gave Lacey a few suggestions as to what to post, and let her have at it. Every time she posted a pic or a video, fans asked for more.

When’s the next song coming out? When are you going on tour? Where are you playing next?

Lacey and Cash were right that they continued to play the same bars over and over, although their LA shows consistently filled up. But they were small venues; the revenue was capped way too low for five people to truly make a living.

They’d laid the groundwork. They had the talent. They had already written enough new material to record a second EP. Probably even a full-length album.

They needed to get out on tour. That was the only way they were going to move to the next level.

And yet, Oz continued to put up roadblocks. Insisted Bridgette book them shows only in LA.

That way, he could still be home in time to grab a few hours’ sleep before he headed to whatever job he was working the next morning.

It sucked, to be honest. All he was doing was dragging himself—and the band—down. They couldn’t go on like this, not if they wanted to succeed, yet he couldn’t figure out how to break out of this routine he’d created.

“I have to support the kids. My mother,” he admitted. The words tasted like ash in his mouth. Not that he didn’t want to support them, but that he had to choose.

“That’s what we’re trying to do,” Maria said quietly.

“I mean, right now. Like, tomorrow, I need to pay the electric bill. Izzie needs a new pair of shoes. There are all these end-of-school things that always crop up to nickel-and-dime parents. None of that will wait until we make it.”

“So what’s your plan?” she asked, crossing her arms.

Oz blinked. “Plan?”

“Yes. When are you planning to tell the rest of them that you aren’t going to be part of the band?”

“I’m not,” he insisted, but he knew where she was going with this. Exactly where he ended up, night after night.

“I just haven’t worked out how to do both,” he finally admitted.

“You have now. You need to let me help.”

She made it sound so damn simple. To her, it probably was. To him, there was a whole lot of pride and fear and who knew what else blocking his path.

He scrubbed his face and did not look at her. “I’m going to need to talk it over with my mother first. Where do you think I got this whole ‘I can take care of myself’ attitude from?”

“My mother,” she said suddenly, “provided the capital for my sister’s best friend and her mother to start their own business. A coffee shop in the small town where we grew up. The place makes money hand over fist. My mother’s investment was paying dividends within a year.”

“That’s—”

“Do not say it’s different.”

She stepped farther into the room. He watched her warily as she approached and finally rested a hand on his bicep. She didn’t squeeze; it probably wasn’t even meant to be sexual at all, and yet, his body reacted like the two of them were magnets. He caught himself as he leaned into her touch.

All he wanted to do was close that door behind her and toss her onto the bed and lose himself to the moment. To pleasuring her. He had a feeling whatever she liked, he’d like.

He was almost desperate to find out if that was true.

There were so, so many reasons not to go down that path, yet, when she touched him, as innocent as it may be, his brain short-circuited and he couldn’t seem to remember any of them.

“I believe in you,” she whispered, her voice husky, like he imagined it would be during the throes of passion.

He cleared his throat. “In me or in the band?”

“Both.” He was not imagining that her hand was now stroking his arm.

Her eyes were dilated, her mouth forming a tiny O.

Her face was flushed; the rosy color spread across her chest and disappeared into her bodice.

If she’d looked at him like this when he hadn’t had any clothes on, he was pretty sure he would not have been able to close the door in her face.

She would have been in that shower with him. He might not have had enough self-control to strip her first, but then again, it might have been fun divesting her of her soaking wet clothes while the steamy water poured over them.

Ah hell, he was getting hard.

Again.

“Please, Oz.”

Jesus, what was she even asking for?

“Give us a chance.”

Us?

“Give this band a chance.”

Damn it. He knew he was a goner before the words formulated on his tongue.