pair of black silk ones. They reminded him of Toni for some reason. Probably because they felt so silky against his flesh. Like her supple, untouched skin.
Deciding that the guys wouldn’t want to have to stare at his tented boxers either, he put on a pair of jeans as well.
“Breakfast ETA ten minutes,” Cade, their overnight driver, called from the front of the bus.
Butch reached for the clipboard, pulled off the top page—yesterday’s schedule—and consulted the page underneath. He checked his watch and scowled. “Fifteen minutes behind schedule. You’ll have to eat fast,” he told the guys. “We have to be at the radio station at ten.”
Logan went to dry his hair before the rest of the guys started fighting over the bathroom. If he didn’t take proper care of his longish waves, they became curls, and then an uncontrollable mass of tangled frizz that put 1970’s afros to shame. Max in particular was a bathroom hog, and with the brace on his wrist, it took him ten times longer to get his hair just right. They didn’t much care if they looked like shit most days, but when they had a public appearance, they were expected to look presentable. Sam was a real stickler about image. And Logan had been bashed a few too many times by the tabloids for going to events with Brillo-Pad bed hair. He looked forward to the days in their schedule when they didn’t have public appearances. On tour, those days were few and far between.
“Is Sinners having breakfast with us?” Dare asked with an exaggerated yawn.
Butch consulted his clipboard again. “Not this morning. I think they have an appearance in the next town over. Sam says we need to spread the awesome around a little.”
“What about the radio interview?” Dare asked. He obviously wanted to hang out with his brother. Logan hadn’t seen his own brother in over a year, and he was okay with that. They didn’t exactly get along. Or even tolerate each other.
“Nope, no Sinners on the radio. And you’re on your own at the meet and greet too.”
“Stupid me thought I might get to spend some time with Trey on this tour,” Dare said with a sour frown.
Logan switched on the hairdryer, calculating how much free time he’d have that day to spend with Toni. He’d definitely make sure he was sitting next to her at breakfast. Then in the limo between their various engagements. Maybe he could hang out with her backstage—or would she be working on her book while they did their events? Perhaps he’d see her more than he thought. He wasn’t sure how much they’d get to interact, but as long as she was in sight, maybe he could concentrate on what he was supposed to do instead of wondering where she was and what she was doing.
Hair dry and mostly under control—it was so thick and wavy, it had a mind of its own, and sometimes he had a mind to shave it all off—Logan left the bathroom and knocked on the closed door of the lounge. He figured someone should explain to Toni how the day was going to go, and he volunteered himself before anyone else thought of it.
“Just a minute,” she called.
She slid the door open and gaped at his bare chest. Logan was doubly glad that he’d yet to don a shirt and that he’d worked out extra hard the day before. He gave her a moment to stare—because, hey, he liked the attention. The bus engine’s pitch lowered as it pulled off the interstate and began to slow.
“We’re going to stop for breakfast and then we have a live interview at a radio station. Are you going to tag along and see what that’s like?”
She smiled, her wide brown eyes sparking with excitement. “Yep. Can’t wait.”
He grinned at her like an idiot for a long moment. She really did seem fine this morning and not mad at him. He didn’t understand why he felt such relief. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. That she’d hide away and refuse to show her face. Cry for days. Send him scathing looks of hatred.
“You’re beautiful,” he blurted.
She rolled her eyes and shuffled around him to enter the corridor. She went to talk to Butch, asking him about how the schedule worked. Who set it up? Who enforced it?
“If it wasn’t for me,” Butch said in his gruffest, most self-important tone, “these four guys would scarcely find the stage, much less tend to