“What should I wear, Owen? I’ve never been to a rock concert, remember? I don’t want to make an ass out of myself.”
“I have to admit I’m interested to know what you were planning on wearing.”
“Why? So you can make fun of me?”
“I would never make fun of you.”
She offered him a reproachful look.
“Not in a hurtful manner,” he added. “So why don’t you change into what you’d planned to wear and if I think it’ll make an ass out of you, I’ll let you know.”
“It’s not a tweed jacket,” she said.
She laughed at the disappointed look on his face.
“Well, I still want to see it.”
“Fine.” She didn’t much care if her wardrobe wasn’t metal-concert appropriate. It wasn’t like she was going to see any of these people in her real life. Though since they were in her home town, it was possible that someone would recognize her wearing a cocktail dress at a rock show.
They started toward the bus. Out of the corner of her eye, Caitlyn kept catching the profile of the same surly-looking stranger. She didn’t think it was a coincidence.
“Owen,” she whispered. “I think that shady-looking character is following us.”
Owen glanced over his shoulder and laughed. “Hey, shady-looking character. Follow us out of her peripheral view. You’re freaking her out.”
“Will do,” the man said and slowed his pursuit to allow them to walk farther ahead.
Caitlyn lifted a questioning eyebrow at Owen.
“That’s Frank, one of our security team. He’s making sure you don’t attack me.”
“You need security?”
“Obviously.”
“You didn’t have security following you around last night,” she pointed out.
“That’s because the chances I’ll be recognized when I’m not at a venue are relatively small. No one is looking to see me. But here, if I’m recognized, almost everyone knows who I am and then it becomes a mob situation. Ask Adam about that. He about started a riot a couple nights ago because he was stupid enough to roll down the limousine window in front of the stadium.”
“It’s sort of weird to think of you as famous,” she said. “Do people really try to attack you?”
“Just women trying to get in my pants,” he said.
“Ha ha,” she said before realizing he probably wasn’t joking.
When they reached the bus, Frank didn’t follow them inside. There was another guy standing just outside the bus door, who Caitlyn assumed was another member of the security team. She supposed his job was to keep groupies from stowing away on the bus when no one was paying attention.
Owen had someone retrieve her overnight bag from beneath the bus and when she had it clutched against her chest, she looked at Owen expectantly.
“You can change in the bathroom,” he said. “I’d join you but unless I stand in the shower stall, there isn’t room for two.”
“I can dress myself.”
“That’s fine. As long as you allow me to undress you.”
She hurried to the bathroom to change while Owen fiddled with his smartphone and checked his messages.
He was right about the bathroom being too small for two. She had to stand with one foot in the shower stall to get dressed. The dress was knee-length, with a flirty wide skirt and a halter top that she realized was much too revealing to wear in public. Cleavage wasn’t the right word for what was showing. She half expected her belly button to be visible.
“Dear lord, Jenna, why do you even own a dress like this?” she asked the mirror. Noting that her bra was showing, she took it off and did her best to keep her boobs in her top while she slipped into the matching heels. The dress wasn’t appropriate for a rock concert or anything but the privacy of her own bedroom. Sure, a movie star might get away with wearing something like this, but she was no movie star. She laughed at her reflection.
“What were you thinking, Caitlyn Marie Mattock?” Her eyes widened when she heard herself use her married name. She realized that unlike the past few months—when it seemed her every thought had been focused on how she’d been jilted—she hadn’t thought of Charles all day. “Caitlyn Marie Hanson,” she corrected. She’d taken back her maiden name in the divorce. It was time to claim it as her own again.
She stepped out of the bathroom, smoothing her hair with her palms and trying not to feel overly self-conscious about how much skin was showing. The back of the dress was cut so low, she wouldn’t be surprised if she had plumber’s crack going on back there. And to say the neckline plunged was an understatement.
Owen glanced up from his phone and froze with his finger hovering over the screen. His jaw dropped and eyes bulged. His phone hit the floor and he didn’t even bother to pick it up before striding toward her.
“Good God, woman, you are not wearing that.”
“Yeah, I realized how ridiculous I look the second I put it on.”
He was staring at the inner and under curves of her br**sts that were far too visible for her peace of mind. If she wasn’t already used to him seeing her naked, she would have covered herself with her hands.
“Fuck hot,” he said, and then he shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “You look f**k hot, Caitlyn. Too f**k hot.”
“Fuck hot?”
“That’s way hotter than regular hot,” he said. “On the hotness scale there’s hot, really hot, and then f**k hot. I think we need to invent a new hot just for you.”
She shook her head at his silliness, but she couldn’t help it—she liked his over-the-top compliments. He made her feel good about herself. She’d always been confident about her intelligence and her creativity and her ability to lead a team, but physically? She was the woman who’d tripped over her own feet at an indoor football game and ended up with her face buried in the crotch of the team mascot. She wasn’t used to being admired for her physical attributes.
Owen’s finger traced a path along the inner curve of her breast. “Where did you get this dress?”
“I borrowed it from Jenna.”
“I’ll thank her next time I see her.”
“You plan to see her again?” Caitlyn squeaked. Jenna had dated a lot of men in her day, but she was happily married now. Or did her friend have something she needed to talk to her about?
“She’s a big part of your life, isn’t she?”