Chris had been the one to contact me a couple weeks ago, not knowing Josh had already invited me to Portland. But Chris’s invite came with a private plane and an extra four hours with Josh. I’d be stupid to say no, so I agreed, on the condition that we surprise Josh with it.

I shake my head and look over at Josh, my heart racing at the sight. He smiles at the two girls in front of him, but it’s neither genuine nor forced. It’s definitely not the way he smiles at Tommy, or at me, and that realization sets off something deep inside me. He quickly moves on to the next person in the line—a younger kid. He signs a board, a magazine, a shirt and the back of a phone, all with the same smile on his face, and gosh, he’s beautiful.

Chris places something around my neck, pulling me from my daze, and I look down to see a lanyard with the tag: Becca (Warden).

Becca Parentheses Warden.

Becca Warden.

If I were ten, that name would be scribbled all over my notebook.

“You ready?” Chris asks.

After a nod from me, he leads me through the crowd with his hand on the small of my back while my heart picks up pace. We stop at the side of the table, where Josh is in the middle of talking to a fan. He glances up quickly when he feels our presence, but quickly goes back to the kid in front of him. He picks up a pen and starts signing the board, but he pauses halfway through, his eyes narrowing.

Then he looks up. Up. UP.

This time, nothing stops. Nothing. Not even him. His chair tips backward, his table forward, and the next thing I know, I’m wrapped tightly in his arms, my feet barely touching the floor, while the world falls away around me.

24

—Joshua—

warmth

wɔːmθ/

noun

1. the quality, state, or sensation of being warm; moderate heat.

2. enthusiasm, affection, or kindness.

3. Becca

I’ve done a lot of difficult things in my life. Raising Tommy on my own was one them. So is trying to balance my work with being a dad. But, sitting next to Becca for two hours, her scent invading my nostrils, driving me wild, and feeling her warmth next to me while wanting to throw her down on the table and make out with her face (What? She’s hot!), and not being able to do so is pretty high up on the list. So is not punching every fan that looks twice at her. Occasionally, the roles get reversed and it’s a girl on the other side of the table. Some want shirts and posters signed, a few want body parts. That’s when I really feel Becca’s warmth—like lasers shooting from her eyes and into the side of my head. Kind of adorable, kind of hot, but mainly funny. Besides, she messed with my mind—told me she wouldn’t be here—and now I get to enjoy messing with hers.

I sign what’s in front of me: boards, shoes, stomachs, cleavage. Whatever. And take pictures with whoever wants them. Time ticks by slowly. So damn slowly I fight the urge to fake a sickness and leave with Becca. Go back to the hotel and you know… talk.

* * *

Stepping out through the storeroom doors and into the alley is like breathing in fresh, cool air for the first time in days. I take Becca’s hand and pull her into me until there’s no space between us and I hold her. Memorize her. Find and lose myself in her. “I missed you,” I tell her, squeezing her tighter.

She laughs. I don’t hear it, but I feel her shoulders bounce and her breaths warming my chest. Too soon, the door opens and my teammates join me. I introduce them to Becca just as the limo pulls up. Becca hops in first, and I follow, sitting closely next to her. I rest my arm behind her, and that’s all I do because anything more could possibly get me arrested.

“So we finally get to meet My Becca,” Nico says once the car’s in motion.

Becca looks up at me, her brow bunched. “My Becca?” she mouths.

I shrug. “Tommy talks a lot.”

“My neck’s all stiff,” Reece says, rubbing the back of his neck and tilting his head from side to side. “Or maybe it’s just all the sexual tension in this car.”

Ry attempts to stifle his laugh while I kick Reece’s leg. He feigns hurt and points to Chris. “You see that? Write him up a warning!”

“Idiot,” I murmur.

But Reece just leans forward, his eyes focused on Becca. “You’re a lot hotter in person, My Becca.”

I kick his leg again.

“Chris!” he shouts. “Josh kicked me!”

“You started it,” I mumble.

Chris sighs. “Settle down, children.”

* * *

My hand covers the handle of Becca’s luggage while I roll it behind me, the other taking hers as we walk into the hotel lobby. “You want me to book you a separate room?” I ask, turning to her.

She nods.

I freeze.

Then she smirks.

“You’re mean.”

I hold her hand tighter and rush through the lobby toward the elevators, praying for the first moment alone. The second we’re inside, I hit the button for the twentieth floor. I stare down at her, watching her bright green eyes lift to mine. “Hi,” I say.

“Hi,” she mouths.

After releasing her bag, I wait for the elevator doors to start closing before holding her face in my hands. But that’s all I can do because the doors ping open again, and the rest of my team, plus Chris, step inside.

I drop my arms.

“Team cock-block to the rescue,” Reece shouts.

Chris shakes his head. “Leave ’em alone.”

Ry laughs.

Nico says, “I bet you can’t wait to get her in your room, be alone, get down and nasty.” He smirks at me, winks at Becs, then presses the buttons to every single floor between here and the twentieth.

“I hate you,” I tell him.

Becca presses her face to my chest, hiding her laughter. I’m glad she thinks it’s funny. I’m pissed.

Swear, an entire lifetime passes before we actually make it to our floor. I’m the first to step off, but not without a pocketful of condoms jokingly supplied by my so-called friends. I hustle Becca down the hall and into my room, making sure the door is closed, locked, secured, and then I grasp her hand when she starts to walk farther into the room. I gently push her against the wall just inside the door. “Where do you think you’re going?”

She looks up slowly, her eyes meeting mine, her teeth working on her bottom lip.

I move in on her, smiling when her eyes widen. “You’ve been bad, Becs, messing with my head like that.” I almost laugh when she rolls her eyes. Instead, I move closer until I’m flush against her. “You crushed my heart and you know how fragile my heart is.”

She smiles when she rises to her toes, her lips aiming for mine, but I don’t let her have it. Not yet. I pull back just in time and place my hands on her hips, pushing her away from me. “I’m mad at you.”

Her eyes dance with amusement as her hands flatten on my stomach, beneath my shirt, and I almost lose it. Almost. Her touch is warm, hot, satisfying all my cravings, all my longing. I hold off, fighting the urges coursing through my veins. She raises her hands slowly, so damn slow I can feel the pulse in her fingertips as she makes her way up to my neck, taking my shirt with her. I try to think. Try to come up with a plan that will give me the control and right now—the way she’s looking at me… I can’t think of a single reason to stop her when she removes my shirt, wraps it around my neck, and then uses it to pull my mouth to hers.