Free Songbird by Victoria Escobar Page A

be
important for you. I can cook; I enjoy Italian food the most though
I do make some killer fried chicken and biscuits. I’m not big on
sweets.”
    Sweets are for good girls. Girls that listen
and obey. You’re not one of those.
    The memory sucked the air out of my lungs and
I braced against the wall when I swayed. The sucker punch was
unwelcome and certainly unbidden. I fought the bile down, fought to
remain in control of myself. This would not happen here or now.
    “Hey,” Nicholas sounded closer and alarmed.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Probably not enough to eat and you did
that running. I’ll call room service. What do you want?”
    “Chicken would be nice. Some kind of starch.
You can surprise me with the vegetable.” My voice was a little
ragged but strong enough that I didn’t think he’d be too overly
alarmed.
    “Got it.” He hung my towel over the top of
the shower bar. “Don’t stay in much longer. I will haul you out if
I have to.”
    I waited for him to close the door before
reaching for the water and turning it full heat. My body had gone
icy cold and I needed the warmth. Memories were only memories, I
told myself. The memory only hurts because I let it hurt me.
    The lecture did little to stop the shaking
and resigned, I shut the water off and reached for the towel
Nicholas had hung over the bar. When I stepped out I choked on
laughter.
    In the steam on the mirror, Nicholas had
drawn a rather terrible running slice of pizza chasing what I
assumed to be a tomato with a knife. He was so damn childish
sometimes. And other times, that was exactly what I needed.

When I stepped back into the suite I wasn’t
surprised to find a full meal laid out, including pie that Nicholas
had already half eaten. He grinned when he saw me and shrugged. I
only shook my head and sat.
    “Alfredo chicken, some breadsticks, and half
a slice of chocolate silk pie.” He sounded so damned pleased with
himself.
    “I don’t care for sweets, you can eat the
rest of it.”
    “What kind of monster are you?” Nicholas’s
eyes widened. “Who doesn’t like sweets?”
    “My hips and ass don’t. They outvote my
stomach.” I paused with a fork halfway to my mouth when I noticed
his frown. “What?”
    He looked like he was about to say something
then shook his head. “No. Nothing. So which side of the bed did you
want?”
    “I’m not sleeping in bed with you, Walker.
Even in the most innocent sense of the words.” I pointed my fork at
the couch. “I can sleep there or go back to the bus.”
    His forehead wrinkled. “But you have a
bed.”
    “And so do you.” I pointed at the wall the
banging had come from. “Over there.”
    Nicholas sighed and twisted the ring on his
middle finger with his thumb. “We could have Henry show her
out.”
    “After you sexed her up and left her high and
dry in a hotel suite alone? I knew you were rude to a point, but
that’s just downright nasty.”
    “Sorry,” he muttered the apology to his
shoes.
    I waved it off and ate some more chicken. “It
won’t happen again. I’ll make sure my room has two beds from now
on.”
    “Yeah?” He perked up a little. “That would be
nice.”
    “I bet.”
    “Oh, I do have a question.”
    “Shoot.”
    He leaned forward and lowered his voice to a
surreptitious whisper, “Do all your bras and underwear match?”
    I wondered briefly—if I killed him, would I
be able to get away with it?

    By the end of the first week, Ezra was
probably doing a jig in Nashville. Not only had I managed to keep
Nicholas out of trouble for a seven whole days, but we were still
on schedule too. With eleven weeks left on tour, I thought Ezra’s
jubilation was a little premature.
    Sure, the shows and schedule held, but the
only time I had even seen Dolls of Serenity was when they were
ushered from their bus to sound check and then back to the bus when
it was done. And the process repeated for the concert. I realized
Nicholas had a reputation but this was a