“Liberty isn’t just your personal assistant.”
“What makes you say that?”
Paxton rested his arms on the table. “Besides the fact I haven’t seen her do anything that most PAs do—like fetch food and drinks for you, or coordinate your wardrobe, or deal with media demands—yet she’s constantly by your side. I could chalk that up to infatuation on both your parts, but that’s not all of it. I couldn’t put my finger on it exactly. Knowing you for a few years and that your taste in women runs to the trashy side, I figured maybe you’d hired her because you weren’t attracted to her.”
Devin’s cheeks grew warm. He’d always feel like a tool for what he’d said—and thought—about Liberty the first time they’d met.
“But after watching you with her, the attraction between you two is mutual. It’s been mentioned in passing that you work out with her almost every day. So when I showed up at the fitness room because I couldn’t sleep and saw her working out, I watched her through the door before I entered the room.” He paused. “She doesn’t train like a girl. She doesn’t fight like a girl. Hell, most women outside of the martial arts community wouldn’t know what grappling was. She not only knows her way around submissions and takedowns, she would’ve forced my submission if I hadn’t defined the parameters ahead of time. She carries a stun gun in her duffel bag, and I suspect I never see her in the skimpy clothes most PAs prefer because she’s always carrying a gun. I won’t put you on the spot and ask you to define her real job title—I can guess well enough.”
“So why are you here?”
“I figured you might need to talk to someone that ain’t her or Crash. I know how damn isolated this job can make you feel.”
He traced the rim of his glass. “Is Crash sitting in the lobby by the doors?”
“Yep. He warned me not to try to sneak you outta the building. Why would he say that?”
“I told Liberty if she followed me down here, I’d leave. But she knows Crash can keep me in line.”
“Always good to have one person like that. Sucks when I’m that person for all three of my brothers. You have siblings?”
He thought of how he’d opened up tonight about Michelle. Why had he been able to do that with Liberty and not Renee? “An older sister.”
“She whip your ass when you were kids to keep you in line?”
Devin tried to remember. Renee had been more the mother-hen type than the cracking-skulls type. “Not really.”
“Huh. That’s my favorite part about being the oldest in my family—knocking heads together when my brothers need it, which is more often than you might think.” Paxton opened the closest bottle of Jack. “What put you and Liberty at odds tonight?”
Grateful for the subject change, he said, “Her reaction to my bus bein’ shot up.”
“Come on. Give me more than that.”
It wasn’t as hard to tell Paxton about the frustrating situation as Devin had imagined.
When he finished, Paxton said, “It’ll get harder to keep that line between personal and professional the harder you fall for her.”
“Yeah. I know.” And it was already too f**king late. If he wasn’t so crazy about her, he wouldn’t give a shit about her feelings, or her job, or how it affected them.
“So what are you gonna do?”
“I oughta tie her to the goddamn bed until she listens to reason,” he muttered.
Paxton raised his hands. “Dude, I don’t wanna know about your kinky sex shit.”
Devin fought a smile. “If I thought kinky sex shit would work on her, I’d try it. But I’ll have to go with the old standby.”
“Which is what?”
“Avoiding her.”
“Not cool, man.”
“Yeah, well, I’m new to this relationship crap. At least if I’m avoiding her, I can buy some time to come up with a way to deal with this.”
Paxton stretched his arm across the back of the booth.
Devin’s gaze automatically moved to the sleeve of tats. “Every time I see you, Pax, you’ve got more ink.”
“Chicks dig it.”
“That’s the reason you do it?”
Paxton shook his head. “I don’t get off on the pain either. Every one of these images means something. It chronicles my life. Even the shit I wanna forget. Maybe especially that.”
Interesting philosophy. But that wasn’t a surprise. Paxton was one of the most complex men he’d ever met. Devin doubted anyone ever said that about him. He stood. “Thanks for listening to me bitch and whine. Too bad you don’t live in Nashville. We could do this all the time.”
“All part of my job as your friend. And thanks, but I’ll stick to livin’ in Austin, where the real music scene is. But seriously, Dev, you need anything else, call me.”
“I will.” He pointed to the remaining mini bottles of whiskey. “Keep ’em. See you at sound check.”
In the lobby, Devin stopped in front of Crash.
He glanced up from his cell phone. “Better?”
“Some. You got one or two beds in your room?”
“Two. Why?”
“I need to figure some shit out. Can I stay with you?”
“I guess.”
They started toward the elevators.
Crash swiped his key and pressed the button for the presidential level.