Reprise (Ruby Riot #3) Read online

  I toy with the idea of leaving for London after the gig is over, when I’m sure everything is okay to be left with Claudia, the local girl helping out, but it’s late and the weather hasn’t improved. Snow fell the last two days and the roads are icy. Despite how desperate I am to get home to Josh, I want to travel safely. Unfortunately, it appears I need to see the tour through to the end.

  Thankfully, the concert runs fine. The recording planned for yesterday is taken tonight, the VIPs behave, and so do the twins. The after party doesn’t end in chaos and my day ends easier than expected.

  Tomorrow I go home with memories of exactly why I work from home and the London office, and why I never want to repeat time on the road with Ruby Riot for a third time.

  I’m late checking out as I tidy up loose ends with the local tour staff and assign them tasks they’re capable of doing so I can leave as soon as possible.

  The last two days have cemented the fact I don’t want anything to do with Ruby Riot’s PR. I’m moving onto a project with Chelle Belle, a vapid reality TV star set to make money from hosting a crappy talent show. How she can be the judge when her talent is not wearing many clothes and causing scandal, I don’t know. I’ll avoid dealing with her one on one; but unfortunately, these days, reality TV stars are clients worth catching for the big bucks.

  I sit in the gleaming lobby, on a leather lounge, waiting for the porter to bring my bag. Through the double glass doors, the English winter awaits. There’s no snow but the streets and sky are grey. A holiday is long overdue, and I drift into daydreams of where I could go. I’d take Mum with me, and Josh. Somewhere hot. All inclusive.

  A toddler approaches me from across the lobby. Dressed in a short, pink dress and matching cardigan, she’s unsteady, almost tripping over her shiny black shoes. The curly-haired girl grips a small black and white toy dog by one ear as she studies me.

  I smile. “Hello.”

  Not replying, she pulls herself onto the sofa next to me and holds out her toy. “Doggy.”

  “Does he have a name?”

  She studies me with her wide brown eyes. “Doggy.”

  “Hello, Doggy,” I say to the toy.

  The girl’s smile grows and my heart tears a little as I think of Josh. Hardly any time at all seems to have passed since he was this age, now he’s five and at school. I missed a lot of time with him as a baby and toddler, as I worked hard to hold down my job and forge myself a career. My determination and success in getting where I am today means I can work from home more and choose not to travel longer than a couple of nights.

  But I missed too much. Mum saw Josh’s first steps and heard his first word. I lost a part of his life I’ll never see and this is my biggest regret. I tell myself I did this for us, but I should’ve slowed down instead of pretending I was like any other career girl out there.

  “Quinn!” Ruby strides across the lobby and scoops the girl into her arms. “I told you to wait with Daddy.”

  “She’s beautiful,” I say.

  Ruby smiles, the smile of a mother whose daughter is the most precious and beautiful child in her eyes, but this little girl truly is. Ruby pushes Quinn’s brown curls from her face and kisses her cheek. The contrast between the two is huge, Ruby in her black clothes and Quinn in pink; Ruby’s scarlet red hair against her daughter’s natural brown curls. I imagined Ruby and Jem would dress their daughter to match their casual-bordering-on-grunge style, but she’s an image of cute, little girl perfection.

  Jem approaches and gets a severe frown from Ruby. “What?” he asks. Quinn holds her arms out and Jem takes hold of his daughter. She whacks the toy dog against his face a couple of times and I bite back a laugh.

  “I asked you to watch her.”

  “She’s fine. Riley was watching her.” Jem raises both brows at me.

  “I was. She’s fine. I didn’t expect to see you. I thought everybody would’ve left by now.”

  “We’re flying out to New York for a couple of weeks. Waiting for the car to pick us up.”

  “Nice.”

  “Some downtime after the tour,” says Ruby. “I need it.”

  “Me too. Too much babysitting.” He nudges Ruby who responds with a kiss.

  I look away. That’s the other thing I didn’t have for Josh. A father. I know who he is, but I don’t want anything to do with the man. I doubt he knows about his son and I don’t want him to.

  A middle-aged man smartly dressed in the gold and black hotel uniform appears with my large travel bag on a trolley. He pulls the bag to the floor.

  “Can I help you with this?”

  “I’m okay. My car is parked in the carpark across the street. I can manage to carry my bag that far.”

  “Are you sure?” he asks.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Drive safely,” he says. “The weather’s forecast to get worse.”

  I smile. “I checked. Motorways are clear and most of the snow is forecast for the North. I’ll be halfway home by then.”

  “Still, take care.”

  “Thank you.”

  I pull my bag onto my shoulder and say my goodbyes to the strangely perfect family with their perfect daughter. The cold wind assaults me, the chill smarting my ears. Thankful for my warm coat, I pull it tighter and cross to the multi-storey car park.

  Before I left my car here a couple of days ago, I made a mental note. Third floor, next to a concrete pillar and close to the elevator. Did the hassle of the tour mess with my memory? The space I thought I parked the car in is taken by a blue sedan and not my red hatchback.

  Disconcerted, I doubt myself. No, definitely parked here. Maybe? I walk along the row of cars but the only red hatchback on this level is a Ford and not my Audi.

  Stolen? No.

  Blood drains from my face as my heart sinks. Please, no. Not today. What other explanation is there? I stare at the space with the blue car as if mine would magically reappear if I looked for long enough. Then in a numb daze, I walk back to the hotel. Jem and Ruby left, nobody from the tour is around to help so I approach reception.

  The girl behind the desk looks up.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I think my car’s been stolen,” I blurt.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Are you a guest here?”

  “I was. With the band. Just checked out.”

  The girl nods. “Should I call the police for you?”

  I blink at the officious tone from the perfectly groomed, perfectly poised staff member.

  “I said my car has been stolen.”

  “I’m sorry. Have you called the police? Would you like me to call them?”

  A strange part of me expected her to produce my car and tell me I was wrong, but her nonchalance indicates this isn’t an uncommon task for her.

  Shit.

  “I need to get to London. Today.” Aware of my rising tone, and the curious glance from the couple next to me, I step to one side.

  She writes on a card and holds it out to me between two perfectly manicured fingers. I take it and read. Police.

  I retreat to the café across the lobby with the card. Hands shaking, I make a call. In my panicked state, all I can remember is the colour and model, and struggle to remember my registration number.

  A few minutes later, I clutch the crime reference number I write on a nearby napkin and take short breaths.

  What the hell do I do now?

  Call Mum.

  Mum, as usual, calms the situation. “Riley, you’re fine. Josh is okay. Hire a car or catch a train, and we’ll fix this when you get home.”

  Hiding in the corner of the hotel café and hyperventilating won’t help the situation, but I’m freaking out. My plans over the last few days shot out of the window because I was hauled up to Newcastle, and now life has crashed in spectacular fashion. I shouldn’t be here. If I hadn’t needed to travel to Newcastle this wouldn’t happen. All I wanted when I woke this morning was to go home and see my son.

  “The next trai
n isn’t for hours, Mum. I’ll try the car rental places. You know how easily the rail services fail in bad weather.”

  “You’ll be fine, sweetheart.”

  I rub my eyes. “Is Josh okay? Did he get to school?”

  “Yes. You spoke to him four hours ago, nothing’s happened since.”

  “Right.”

  Focus on breathing; deep calming breaths.

  I end the call and push down the vulnerability to switch back into organised and efficient. Close down. Don’t think. Get done what needs to be.

  Claudia loiters nearby, watching me. I misjudged her and shouldn’t have allowed her to work on a tour with rock stars. She’s local and looking for experience; remembering myself in the same position, I agreed. Her nervous edge often shows around me, and with her hands tucked beneath her arms, this is higher than usual.

  “Are you all right?” I ask as she approaches.

  “I thought everybody else left.”

  “They have. I’ve a couple of things to attend to; otherwise, I’d be out of here too.”

  Claudia chews on her lip.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “The hotel receptionist wants to talk to you.”

  “Why?”

  “They need Nate out of his room. It’s one p.m. and they need the room ready for—”

  “Go up there and tell him he has to leave, then.”

  Claudia shifts from foot to foot. “I tried. He told me to um… go away.”

  Oh, for fuck’s sake. This is all I need. “Try harder.” Her eyes widen. Is the fear of me or Nate?

  “I don’t know, it’s just I—”

  I stand and shove my phone away. “Fine. I’ll speak to him if you can’t manage a simple task.”

  I cringe at my bitchy tone but I’m wound up so tight I’m ready to explode at any second.

  The receptionist I dealt with earlier is less friendly this time, ramping up my irritation further. “I’d like a key card to Nate Campbell’s room, please.”

  She raises a brow. “We’re not supposed to—”

  “Do you want me to get him to leave or not?”

  I swear the girl deliberately takes her time organising the card and refusing to look at me. I glance at the clock above the desk. Every minute that passes is one less to organising how the hell I get home.

  By the time I reach the floor Nate’s room is on, I’ve lost any patience to deal with his shit. The jerk had better get out and fast.

  I hammer on the door. No response. “Nate!”

  A maid cleaning an adjacent room pretends not to watch me as she takes things from her cleaning cart.

  I lower my voice and knock, calling his name again.

  After a couple of futile minutes with no response, I slide the key card and push open the heavy door. Nice suite, a lot better than my room. The expensive fittings are covered in Nate’s clothes and empty bottles, an unpacked black bag by the window. The huge bed is unmade but empty, and I can’t hear voices. Thank god, I didn’t want to walk in on Nate mid-sex.

  The bathroom door clicks open and Nate walks out.

  Naked. No towel. Nothing.

  Shit.

  I catch a glimpse of every magnificent inch of him, this moment forever lasered in my mind. The sight of his toned chest, and powerful tattoo-covered shoulders, the abs and, well, a part of him I’m semi-acquainted with, sears my vision. I turn my back before Nate notices my appreciation.

  “What the fuck?” he growls. “Why are you in my room?”

  The heat on my face spreads to my neck. “You should’ve checked out four hours ago. You need to leave, Nate.”

  “And that gives you the right to invade my privacy?”

  I gaze at a spot above the door, back still turned. “You told Claudia to fuck off when she asked. I decided to deal with you myself.”

  There’s a long pause. “Good thing I’m naked, then, if you’re wanting to deal with me.” Nate’s voice is low, the teasing tone back.

  “Funny, Nate. Do you have anything on yet? Towel? Clothes?”

  My response is rustling and I hold my breath.

  “Okay. I’m decent.” I turn to a smug smile from the man not in the slightest perturbed by the situation. His black jeans rest low on his hips, the v pointing straight to where I attempted not to look a minute ago. “Should’ve knocked, Smiley.”

  “I did.”

  “I was in the shower.” He tips his head. “Are you pink? Did my nakedness upset you?”

  “No, I’m pink because I’m pissed off that I have to deal with your shit.”

  Nate’s eyebrows shoot up. “Whoa. I wouldn’t call a late check out a major drama.”

  “Can you please pack up, or at least let housekeeping in the room while you get your arse into gear.”

  The sound of a vacuum cleaner close to the door adds a less than subtle hint to the situation. Nate yanks open the bar fridge and pulls out a bottle of water.

  “I feel like shit. You got any painkillers?” He holds a hand out.

  “No.”

  “People normally bring me them.”

  I choke on his arrogance. “I’m not people, and I’m not bringing you anything.”

  “Claudia did. Anything I wanted, I could’ve had so much fun with –”

  “Nate. Get your act together and leave.”

  We stand off, the usual tension grabbing us both by the throat and flinging us together. Nothing’s changed in the time we were apart. This man evokes stronger emotions in me than anybody ever has – even Logan. One day I’ll unpack in my mind exactly why this happens between us, but it doesn’t take rocket science to figure out Paris is one reason.

  “I love a forceful woman,” he says in a low voice. “People don’t dare give me crap but you… You enjoy it.”

  His eyes glint and I run my tongue along my teeth. “Can I tell reception you’ll be checked out in five minutes?”

  The stand off continues with him silently goading me into a round of Nate versus Riley. I’m not in the mood. Maintaining professionalism around Nate is hard at the best of times, and I already crossed that line once today when I saw him butt naked. If I engage, I’ll lose my shit at him because my stress levels peaked an hour ago. Walk away. Now.

  Nate approaches and studies my face more closely. “Are you okay?”

  “Are you asking about my well-being?”

  “No, wondering why you’re not playing.”

  “Playing what?”

  “Or did the awesomeness of my naked body overwhelm you?”

  Correct.

  Not playing.

  I take a deep breath. “Just check out of the room, Nate. Please.”

  Nate sighs and grabs a discarded t–shirt from the floor, allowing me one more surreptitious look at his abs before the material drops into place. Does he have new tattoos?

  “Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?” he asks as his head appears through the top of his shirt. “Again.”

  “I said goodbye to the band last night.”

  “To me.” He steps closer.

  Nate’s scent dives into my memories of his mouth on mine, skin on skin with him. I hold my ground and look back into his eyes. He’s inscrutable, closed off, the way he perfects.

  “Goodbye, Nate.”

  “So, we meet again in another two years?” He murmurs the words as he flicks a look at my mouth, then back to me. My pulse hikes. No, he does not get to do this again. I break away before he decides to touch me.

  “Goodbye, Nate,” I repeat and hope he doesn’t notice my trembling hands as I walk away.

  “I’ll miss you!” he calls after me.

  Me too. Like a hole in the head. I slam the hotel room door.

  I return to my spot in the café and hide in the corner with my latte and phone. Several calls later, and I’m no closer to locating a car. A few rental places don’t hire for one-way trips, and others have no cars or they’re not due for return until mid-afternoon.

  I place my el
bows on the table and hold my head in my hands. What do I do? The train could be my only option and one I’ll avoid at all costs. Knowing my luck, the train lines will be blocked and I’ll end up halfway home and worse off.

  A plate clatters onto the table in front of me and I look up. A slice of chocolate cake. Nate stands with a takeaway coffee in his hands and looks down.

  “What’s this?” I ask.

  “For you. You like chocolate cake.”

  I stare at the huge chunk of gooey, brown chocolate. “Why would you buy me this?”

  “Heard you’re having a shit day.”

  Nate polite and thoughtful? Either I’m dreaming or he’s had a knock on the head since I left him in his room.

  “I am. And no thanks to the cake.”

  “Should’ve told me earlier what happened to you.” He regards me with what could be concern, but I doubt that.

  “We don’t really share problems anymore, do we? We already said our goodbyes.” I pick up my phone and stare at the screen, as if somehow this would make it ring. I’m vulnerable, and the longer Nate sits here, the more likely he’ll realise.

  “Yeah, but I heard about your problem.”

  “You mean stolen cars, snow, and belligerent rock stars who refuse to check out of their rooms?” I ask, eyes remain fixed on my phone. Call. Come on.

  He laughs. “Yeah. So, you’re stuck, huh?”

  “No, I’m waiting for a rental car.”

  “Cool.” He pulls out a chair and sits opposite me. “You were crying.”

  I snap my head up. “I wasn’t!”

  “You were wiping your face with a sleeve and your eyes are red.” He digs his fingers into the chocolate cake and eats. “You’re travelling back to London, right?”

  “Correct.”

  “I’ll give you a lift, if you want. I’m heading that way.” He licks the chocolate off his fingers. “Long drive. Weather’s shit. You don’t want to leave here late and drive in the dark.”

  Travelling with Nate for over five hours wouldn’t be pleasant but would guarantee I’ll get home tonight. Can I? “Um. That’s nice of you to ask, but I’m okay.”