her body a little of what it needs to function properly.
She’s determined to do what Delores tells her to, though. Me being here is ample proof of that fact. And I guess I’m really no better. Because I agreed to be here, after all.
The least I can do is make sure the food she does eat is as nutritious as possible. It doesn’t feel like much. But at least it’s something.
Chapter Twenty
Alexis
I thought I had a hard time with Colt in sweats and nothing else, but somehow watching him get ready to meet one of his concert promoter contacts is a thousand times sexier.
It must just be pent up sexual tension making me think these thoughts. Yes, he’s hot, and there’s no denying it. And charming. And sweet. And caring. And funny. And …
Well, anyway. That’s not the point.
The point is that I’ve been celibate for way too long, and because he’s all up in my space and we’re sleeping in the same bed, I can’t even relieve myself in the usual way. Because if he hears me, then I’d have to admit that he’s got me too revved up to sleep, and then he’ll offer to take care of the problem for me, and I’ll be hard pressed to come up with a reason why not, and then it’s all over but the crying.
And it’s the crying I’m trying to avoid.
So him leaving for a meeting will be fantastic, because I’ll get some time to take care of myself. When he’s at the gym, I’m too nervous to get the job done, because what if he decides to cut it short and comes back early?
And if he’s the star in my fantasies, well, so what? I’ve had plenty of fantasy stars over the years, famous and not, guys I’ve known and ones I’ve only seen on screen.
But none of them have slept next to you every night for weeks, a voice whispers in my head.
Oh, hush, inner voice of reason. Don’t you get that I’m trying to protect myself?
He comes out of the bedroom dressed in close fitting jeans that show off his dedication to leg day and a trim button-down shirt in navy blue with fine, widely spaced pinstripes. Somehow the dark shade of blue makes his eyes seem even brighter. Bright enough that I’d be tempted to accuse him of borrowing my colored contacts, except he’s made the comment that putting something on his eyeball freaks him out. His hair is artfully styled, getting long enough that he’s got that shaggy, sexy vibe that contrasts just enough with his put together clothes to make him seem a little edgy.
A grin tugs at his lips as he catches me checking him out. And instead of poking fun at me, he spreads his arms and executes a turn. “Your verdict?”
I have to swallow a few times to make sure I can actually speak. “You look great.” Unfortunately my voice still comes out as a croak. So I clear my throat and try again. “You look great,” I repeat, waving a hand at him. “They’re bound to take you seriously as a rock star showing up looking like that.”
His eyes are warm as he chuckles and tucks his hands into his pockets. “Thanks. I think having you on the ticket is what will really sell the show, but I appreciate the vote of confidence all the same.” His expression changes, consideration replacing the warmth as he examines me again. “We’ll actually need to talk about the look we want to go for on stage. I’m not sure the angry pixie thing you had going on with your band is necessarily what you want since you’re trying to go solo. We don’t want to overhaul that entirely, but you’ll want to start transitioning away from that a little bit. Then you might not have to dye your hair and wear contacts all the time in public.”
I frown, one hand going to my hair. My roots are starting to show, and I know it. I haven’t bothered to get to the salon recently because I’ve been holed up writing songs and practicing with Colt. But he’s right. If I’m going to be on stage, I need to start thinking about my appearance again.
“I’ll shoot a message to Delores and see what she suggests.”
He opens his mouth to respond, then closes it again with a jerky nod, his brow furrowed. “Sure. Good plan.”
My frown deepens. Is there some reason that talking to Delores