I wanted to do a victory dance.
“Get me in on some of that action,” Ren said, hustling down the steps with his guitar in hand.
Jericho slicked his hair back. “They’re waiting over by the parking lot in front of the pretzel stand. By the yellow car.”
“You coming?”
I inched back a little, hiding behind a man who was texting on his phone.
“Hell no.”
“Not your type? I know you dig the blondes.”
Jericho scratched his ear and glanced around. “Not anymore. I’m all about red. Have you seen Isabelle?”
Wow. A thrill moved through me, and I could have hugged the stranger who was still between us, texting away.
Until I saw Jericho’s entire body lean dramatically to the right, peering around at me. “You’re glowing over there,” he said with a restrained smile.
I stepped into his line of vision and touched one of the pink necklaces, which was beginning to fade. “You were really good out there,” I said, a blush rising to my cheek.
The rest of the show didn’t matter, only those first five minutes when he’d opened his heart and wrote me a song. He knew it, and I knew it.
Jericho swaggered forward in his sexy pants, wiping away loose strands of hair that were stuck to his face.
“It’s hot out here,” he said conversationally.
I wiped a finger across his slick chest. “It sure looks like it.”
A bucket of ice water splashed over his head and doused the front of my clothes. A few people standing nearby laughed and clapped. Joker swung the bucket a few times before tossing it aside. “Thought you could use a little… cooling off.”
“Sonofamother!” Jericho yelled, flipping back his wet hair and glaring at Joker. “You just wait. What goes around and all that.”
“You suck at paybacks, just so you know.” Joker rocked with laughter and walked off.
“I like him,” I said.
Jericho smirked and snaked his arm around me as we took a stroll. “You would. He’s a good guy, all jokes aside. After our last show, he put a skunk in the back seat of Ren’s car.”
“How did you know he was the one who did it?”
“The skunk sprayed him in the process. He’s lucky he didn’t get rabies,” Jericho said with a straight face.
I laughed, reminded of how wonderful it felt to have that old connection back. Not only that, but it was stronger than ever before. I remembered the one-way conversations I’d held with Jericho on the television screen in Hawk’s bedroom—words of comfort that had never reached his ears while he battled vicious demons in that room. Those words formed an invisible thread that stitched his heart to mine.
Jericho slowed his pace until we stopped amidst a crowd. His eyes were stuck on me like peanut butter, and I thought he might kiss me. My heart pounded in anticipation as he touched my locks of red hair and smiled.
“What?” I asked.
His eyes sparkled. “Nothing.”
“Say it.”
“Sexybelle, you don’t have a clue what you do to men.”
“I serve them beer and hamburgers.”
He pinched my nose and I wiggled free as we kept walking. Several people we passed looked at him twice. Unlike humans, most Shifters weren’t into autographs unless it was on their body, for obvious reasons. One girl wanted her lower back signed, and I stood aside with my arms folded. Male Shifters usually responded to a female who turned her back, and this one was ass-up in his face with her low-rise pants.
He gave her a quick scribble without touching her and I watched his face closely. Jericho wasn’t into it.
“Mind if I smoke?” he asked.
We reached a set of lawn chairs, and I sat down with him facing me. “You know I don’t care.”
“Trying to quit,” he admitted. “When you went missing, I couldn’t light up.”
He popped open his lighter and a flame touched the tip. Jericho narrowed his eyes and regarded me with a curious expression. I pulled my feet up into the chair and hugged my legs.
“Are you cold?” he asked, widening his legs.
“Not yet.”
“I brought your sweats. Just say the word and I’ll grab ’em.”
“Don’t leave me alone.”
Jericho’s eyes slimmed, and he flicked the ashes from his smoke. “Why did you say it like that?”
I turned my mouth down and shrugged, looking around at the crowd in the distance.
“Isabelle…”
“It’s nothing.”
“No, it’s something.”
I traced my finger over a mark on my knee. “Can you change the name of your band?”
He took another drag from his smoke and flicked it on the ground. “Why do you want me to do that?”
“Because earlier someone was yelling Izzy, and I thought they were calling for me, but then I remembered that’s the name of your band. It’s just unsettling to watch you perform and hear people yelling my name. I don’t know—after what I just went through, I’m a little edgy.”