Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
8
ZOE
Nixon had been on edge since we landed in San Francisco. He was tapping his foot, rolling a pick over his knuckles, or jiggling his knee—he certainly wasn’t sitting still.
“Is he doing okay?” Quinn asked quietly as Nixon, Jonas, and Ethan strolled down the hall ahead of us at the hotel. “He seems a little…”
“Off?” I suggested.
“Wound up,” she offered. “But yeah, off works too.”
“He’s not usually this bad.” Dinner had been just the five of us in a private room, since both Quinn’s and Jonas’s kids had started school a few weeks earlier, but Nixon hadn’t been able to relax. “He’s been restless since we left…” Home, I almost said, but we really hadn’t been at home. We’d been in Colorado for the last two weeks. “The house,” I finished lamely. “We haven’t been in public much. This is really the first time he’s been around everything that could set him back.”
“I wish he’d let us cancel it.” She sighed. “I get the optics of it, and why he’s so adamant that we not, but it’s really not worth the risk to his sobriety.”
Ahead of us, I saw Nixon’s tattooed knuckles as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“Is it?” Quinn asked, pausing in the middle of the hallway.
“Is what?” I stopped to face her, noting the worry in her eyes.
“Is this risking it? We called ahead and made sure there was no alcohol at dinner and there were no surprise gifts in his suite—your suite—whatever you guys call it.” She tucked her thumbs in her pockets and rocked back on her heels. “But I don’t know if it’s enough.”
“I think every day is another risk to his sobriety,” I answered as truthfully as I could, keeping my voice down even though the band had reserved not only this floor but the two beneath us. “Is being here harder? Yep. Does he keep secluded? Yeah. Does he avoid temptation? Absolutely. But don’t, for one minute, think that he couldn’t sneak off to the bar or the liquor store if he wanted to.”
She nodded, looking over my shoulder. “I just don’t want to be his reason for failing.”
“I think you guys are a major part of his reason for staying sober.”
Her forehead wrinkled. “Is he being a complete dick to you?”
I scoffed. “He’s Nixon.”
“That says it all.” She winced.
“No, he’s fine, really,” I assured her.
She arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow.
“I’m serious.” I grinned. “He’s…” There weren’t any words to describe him. He was infuriating one moment and bone-meltingly sweet in the next. Ice cold, then flipped to scorching hot. He was just Nixon.
“How many girls have there been?” she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Anything we need to worry about?”
I swallowed. Hard.
“Shit, I shouldn’t be digging into you like this, but if we get him on the phone, it’s only for a few minutes, and he’s not exactly an open book with us right now. I just want to know that he’s not trading one vice for another, you know?”
“Hey, are you two coming?” Jonas called down the hall.
“Give us a second!” Quinn waved him off. “I swear to God, they harass me about not having any female friends when we tour but won’t let me talk to another woman for a few minutes without butting in,” she muttered. “So, normal level of women in his life? More?”
“Um. That’s…” I cringed. The number of people who could call Quinn a friend was small to say the least, and I wasn’t in a hurry to piss her off. “That’s a question for him to answer.” I was there to keep Nixon sober, not report the details of his life. “But I would say that you don’t have anything to worry about.”
She tilted her head, studying me for a nerve-wracking moment. “Huh. I knew I liked you for a reason.” She shrugged, then we started walking again, heading toward the end of the wing where the rooms were.
The guys were gathered outside the door to the suite Nixon and I shared. He shot me a curious look before jumping back into the conversation with Jonas and Ethan.
“I hope he’s slowed down a little. I swear to God, he was at risk for chafing,” Quinn remarked.
My eyes popped wide, but I schooled my features quickly. Nixon’s exploits were so well known that women usually lined up backstage like Baskin Robbins, hoping he’d pick their flavor for the night. Reason number four hundred and six that kiss can’t happen again.
“Chafing what?” Nixon asked, obviously having heard.
“Your dick,” she answered with a smile.
Nixon’s gaze flew to mine.
“Don’t look at me.” I dug into my purse and took out the room key. Nixon stepped to the side, so our shoulders brushed as I approached the door.
“I asked her if you were man-whoring,” Quinn explained.
“And what did Ms. Shannon say?” Nixon’s voice dipped to a purr.