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over her jeans. The crotch sagged and the waistband pulled high,
well above her belly button. “These are the worst, Aria, simply the
worst. And we get one pair for the whole season? One?”
    Aria’s lips twitched.
Her mouth opened and closed. “They’re really strong. Guaranteed to
hold up to many washings.” Her voice squeaked on the last word. She
tried to say something else, but laughter buried the words. She
laughed so hard tears spilled from her eyes to her cheeks.
    Tyler grinned and
traced the path with his index finger. Wet. Warm. She curved her
smile up to him and the laughter of the band faded until she turned
back to the room, making him jealous of the pull they had on her
attention. Though the panties were pretty funny. Half the band was
folded over in hysterics as the other half modeled the
unmentionables.
    “I promise,” Aria
gasped on her laughter, “I promise that the next fundraiser check
that clears goes to getting a segment of the guys’ uniforms.”
    Ethan stopped shoving a
box their way. He held up his hands. “We’re good.”
    Dylan stuck his finger
into the waistband of a girl on the front row and tugged on the
heavy elastic. He shook his head and gave an expletive. “Yeah.
We’re good.”
    The girl flipped him
off, but winked at the same time.
    Tyler flashed back to
the last time his stylist had brought in a trunk load of designer
samples for his band. The guys had bickered over the details. The
seams. The designers. The bling. Well, Ian and Hugh had whined.
Jerry had slumped against the wall, already out of it on whatever
he’d popped during the break.
    There’d been no
laughter.
    Aria’s dark blue eyes
brightened to the blue of California’s license plates. Gorgeous.
What else would make their color change? Tyler stepped closer and
dropped his hand to her soft waist. He tightened his fingers on the
thin fabric of her shirt and tried to make his hand behave. He was
sinking fast. He liked to go fast.
    Aria startled and
flushed a little, but didn’t lose her grin. She turned her
sparkling gaze up to him. “You can see why we’re the envy of the
school, right?”
    Tyler rubbed his thumb
over her side. The T-shirt blocked him from touching her skin, of
knowing how she felt, of feeling her warmth. He hated the shirt. It
had to go. He gave the fabric a tug.
    Aria blinked. Froze.
Blushed. And then wiggled free, making his hand drop.
    Tyler swallowed what he
wanted to say. You. Me. Leave. Now.
    Thoughts of where to
take her flashed through his brain. Penthouse. Tour Bus. Backstage.
The penthouse was out. He’d never take a chick back to his place.
They got ideas. They got clingy. The tour bus was out. She wasn’t a
one-night gig. He’d see her tomorrow. He wasn’t in freaking L.A. He
was in freaking Texas. And he didn’t have his tour bus here. Where
did guys in Texas take their girls? The bleachers? The barn? Back
of a pickup? Back to the trailer?

Chapter Six
    Freaking Texas. Tyler
ran his hand over his short hair. He did not know how to work this
state. Was Aria even the type to go back to his room with him? What
would it take to get her? A freaking date at least.
    “Tyler?”
    He must have been
staring at her like she was a new set of lyrics. He wanted her like
a new set of lyrics. More. “Hmm?”
    Her voice lowered.
“What are you thinking?”
    He wanted to tell her.
The laughter and the chatter in the room stopped him. Band hall.
Uniforms. Ugly panties. “I’m not sure what to do with you.” He
rubbed his eyebrow. He meant that straight up.
    Her lips parted, and
her cheeks flushed. What was that sweet expression? Crap.
Realization slapped him in the face. Innocence. No. Fuck! No.
    “What to do with
me?”
    Her words sounded
playful and cute, not suggestive. Disappointment sank through him,
threatening to drop him to his knees faster than Gina’s rufie.
    No.
    “Well, I know what to
do with you .” Aria pointed to a chair. “Over with the
drummers, Tyler.”
    Tyler