Oh, and they had been working on way more than one song. Since Sarge had brought music back into Jasmine’s life, she couldn’t stop writing. Singing. More often than not, Sarge joined her, encouraging her simply by adding his voice to hers, turning her creations into duets. Sexy ones that fit the Old News vibe. A few that would even make it onto the new album. Some of Jasmine’s best new memories of Los Angeles were lying on their bedroom floor singing up at the ceiling while Sarge strummed his guitar, ocean waves breaking down below.
Jasmine’s voice was thready when Sarge’s skillful mouth finally gave her the chance to answer. “We won’t sing anything if you don’t go get on stage.”
Sarge’s blue eyes lit up. He knew he had her. There was something else there, though. Additional mischief. “Is that a yes?”
Leaping had become easier, so much easier, because she knew they would always catch each other. Every time. “That’s a yes.”
His smile fell away little by little, but those eyes remained focused on her. So focused. “I love you, Jasmine. But I dreamed about you so long, I’m still not sure I’m awake right now.”
“You are.” Heat pressed behind her eyelids. “I know because you woke me up, too. And I never want to go back to sleep.”
He enfolded her in his arms and squeezed. “I’ll see you out there, baby.”
Sarge gave her a long look over his shoulder as he walked out of the dressing room. As soon as he was out of sight, Jasmine fell back against the wall, breathing deeply to get the hormones her boyfriend had unleashed back under control. The struggle was real. A corner of her mouth ticked up when she heard the crowd lose their minds over Sarge walking onstage…and then she heard the first few chords of “Girl in Blue.”
Dios, the man knew how to make her heart pound.
Last week, Old News had gotten their upcoming tour schedule from the record label. Twenty-two countries over the course of a year once the new album was completed. Jasmine was loath to put her voice lessons on hold, but with the help of webcams, she could continue them from the road. She could still remember that afternoon when the schedule had been announced. Sarge had looked over at her in the meeting, obviously worried she might balk about accompanying the band on such an extensive tour. She’d seen his stubborn side rising to the surface and knew he wouldn’t go without her. Informing Sarge—with a whisper in his ear—that she had no intention of being without him for any length of time had ended the way most of their conversations did. Back at home. With Sarge praying to God between Jasmine’s thighs, in between licks.
James walked into the dressing room, bursting her naughty thought bubble like a day-old balloon. “You coming?”
Interesting choice of words. Jasmine straightened. “Already?” She checked the wall clock. “They just walked out.”
“You can’t hear them chanting your name?”
Her heart slowed at the band manager’s casually delivered question. Closing her eyes, she listened hard and heard it. The distant rumbling of her name. Jasmine. Jasmine. A hand lifted to circle her aching throat as she slid off the desk. “What am I supposed to do now?”
“Now?” James signaled that she should precede him to the stage. “You go out and sing. Later, we’ll talk about the fact that the band already voted to make you the newest member. Which means…” He eyed the wall clock. “Technically, you’re late for your first gig.”
Jasmine’s legs shook as she walked through the backstage area, past the roadies who patted her on the shoulders, and out onto the stage to deafening applause. Sarge met her halfway across the stage where a second microphone was already set up. The second he took her hand and they locked eyes, her legs stopped shaking.
They sang together. And they always would.
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Acknowledgments
Thank you Patrick and Mackenzie for loving me, continuing to believe in me, cheering for me, feeding me, and keeping me sane.
Thank you Heather Howland at Entangled Publishing for being a great, supportive editor, and loving tattooed men in beanies.
Thank you Margarita V. for inspiring the character of Jasmine! I appreciate you reading the rough draft and filling in the curse word blanks—it wouldn’t have been right without them. And I still miss those walks to Starbucks.
Thank you Aquila Editing (aka Eagle) for beta reading Crashed Out. And loving Sarge’s penchant for praying to Jasmine’s lady parts.
Thank you Nelle OBrien for always being on messenger and being an all around fantastic lady. And for bullying me into being organized.
Thank you to Sara Eirew for taking the fabulous photograph on this cover. It’s definitely my favorite cover to date. Such emotion and heat! Amazing.
Thank you Jillian Stein for being a huge, encouraging presence in my life and a most entertaining road trip companion.
Thank you to my Bailey’s Babes, as always. Love you guys like FAS. ;)