hotel entrance. Sensing a chance to escape the claustrophobic depressing bubble, I kicked my door open—the driver slammed his brakes. Lola jerked against her seat belt, eyeing me like I'd lost my mind.
Grinning, I said, “Come on, let's see how expensive our rooms are.”
Her tiny smile was encouraging. “I don't remember the last time I even slept in a hotel.”
“You traveled with your brother,” I said, reaching my hand out to help her from the car. “Where did you sleep when you were on the road?”
Her laugh was sharp and short. “Bus seats are comfortable enough in a pinch.”
I started to chuckle—the sensation of her fingers wrapping in mine stopped me. A river of energy flowed from her hot skin into mine. I'd meant to steady her next to the car, but instead, we both stumbled.
Lola's face came close to mine; I could see the tiny diamonds in her blue irises, fragments that broke up the rich color. My lips were magnetized to hers, and it was only thanks to the driver coming around, trying to yank my bag and be 'helpful' that I was stopped from tasting her.
"Here you go," the guy said, beaming up at me.
My fierce glare made him drop my bag; I caught it before it hit the pavement. "Thanks," I mumbled, "But I can take it from here."
Lola exhaled, it came out in a great whistle that she had no control over. Her cheeks were glowing. When she spun to face the hotel, I suspected she was trying to hide her reaction from me. "This place is gigantic," she said.
Her comment made me scan the building again. I'd grown so used to staying in a hotel that they all blurred together now. Unlike Lola, I'd never had to crash on a bus seat. When I'd started Four and a Half Headstones, we'd gone from driving our cars to local shows, to getting picked up by an agent in a mere few months.
Realizing how blessed I'd been was a cold eye opener.
I would never call myself entitled, but what would I do if Brenda ever suggested we sleep on a hard bus seat? And Lola's been doing that for... I don't even know how long.
Strolling up to the front desk of the Ramada, I fought with a drilling sensation of guilt. This honest woman had, unintentionally, made me reevaluate my privilege. I was torn between appreciating that... and hating it.
Lola stood beside me, her head level with my shoulder. From the tip of her nose to the curve of her mouth, she was beautiful. Like she felt me weighing her worth, Lola peeked upwards.
Those fucking eyes reassured me of one thing: A similarity existed between us. The ancient pain boiling in her eyes reflected my own. I didn't need details to recognize her scars—but I still wanted them. I needed to understand Lola Cooper.
“Can I help you?”
Turning, I smiled at the woman behind the counter. She was cute, though exhaustion and a too-tight hair bun were doing her no favors. Digging out my keycard, I flashed it like it was money. “You can, in fact, help us. We have rooms here. I'm—”
“Drezden Halifax,” she blurted, fingers covering her mouth. I smirked at her struggling to find the line between being a fan and acting professional. “Right! Your room is on the seventh floor. If you have your card, you can go right up.” Gesturing at the elevator, her cheeks went pink. It was endearing, but Lola's blush was far more enticing. “Um, do you need help with your luggage? I can—I mean, someone can—”
Waving my hand, I gripped my bag. “Thanks, but I think we can handle these.” Facing my companion, a wave of surprise careened along my spine. Lola's elegant fingers were crushing the handle of her guitar case, turning them the color of ivory. Every line in her forehead told me a story.
Jealousy.
Lola was jealous.
That fact pleased me so much, I could have hugged her right there. I'd sensed it the other night when we were at the Griffin, too; how she'd fidgeted over my flirting with the waitress, a girl whose name I'd already forgotten.
Standing tall, I slathered my best smile onto the girl behind the front desk. Her hazel eyes were glazed over. “Actually,"I said, "I could use help with something.” I squinted at her name tag. “Amy. If it isn't too much?”
“Of course not!” Beaming wide, she smoothed her already too-smooth scalp. “Just ask! I'd love to be of assistance.”