She shook her head. Sniffed her nose and dabbed at her eyes. On second thought, yes, she definitely needed a hug. She nodded and took several steps in his direction. Closing the distance, he wrapped both arms around her and squeezed tightly. She relaxed against him, astonished by how quickly her cares melted away. She would have preferred Logan to be the one comforting her, but whenever she ended up in his embrace, sexual urges consumed her. Being hugged by Dare was different. It was almost like when she was a girl and her father had comforted her when the world had treated her unfairly. Except her father hadn’t had such a firm muscular chest and didn’t smell like a little slice of heaven. Being hugged by Dare was like being hugged by the gorgeous big brother she’d never had but had so longed for when the responsibility of taking care of the family had fallen on her after her father had passed away.
Dare rubbed her back, turning her muscles to butter. Toni appreciated that he kept his touch platonic and his embrace comforting. She’d done enough yelling for the day and if he tried anything, she’d be obligated to tell him off. She’d made a promise to Logan, and she didn’t take such things lightly.
“Feel better?” Dare asked, leaning back to look at what must be a tear-streaked disaster, aka her face.
She nodded.
“You’d better not be touching her, Mills,” Logan called hoarsely from somewhere in the bus.
“I don’t think we need two fights in one day,” Dare said. He released her and stepped away. “Guys like Logan don’t understand how it’s possible to touch a woman without trying to initiate sex.”
“According to him, we’re justfriends,” Toni grumbled.
Dare laughed. “Right. The two of you are much more than friends. Anyone can see that.”
The corner of Toni’s mouth curved upward. She thought so too, but she wasn’t going to press the issue with Logan just yet. She didn’t want to send him running for the Canadian border to escape her.
Dare took a seat on the sectional and made himself comfortable. “I’m ready when you are.”
“Ready for what?”
“My interview.”
She scratched her jaw. Her confidence had been completely shattered by the fiasco of Steve’s interview and the lack of cooperation during Max’s. She doubted she was capable of attempting Dare’s session today.
“I’m not sure I know what I’m doing,” she admitted.
“I’m sure that you do. Sit down. Take a deep breath. And get to work.”
If she hadn’t just been wrapped in his comforting embrace, she would have hugged him for the vote of confidence.
She sat beside him on the sofa, pushed her glasses up her nose, and took a deep breath. She released it slowly and then reached for her legal pad, flipping to the second sheet of questions so that she wouldn’t be distracted by her margin notes about Dare’s deceased fiancée. Nope. She was not asking him that. There’d be only nice, safe questions asked in this interview.
“Okay,” she said, taking another deep breath, hoping it would steady her shaking hands. “Every member of the band is listed in the songwriting credits for all of Exodus End’s songs. Do you participate equally in writing music or do certain members contribute more than others?”
“That’s a loaded question,” Dare said.
She hadn’t meant it to be. Though now that she’d read it aloud, it did sound kind of rude. The undercurrent of who works hard and who skates along accepting undeserved credit was definitely there. Surely Susan, with her years of superior interview experience, could have worded the question better. The trembling of Toni’s hands intensified.
“I’m going to answer it anyway,” Dare said. “But I’m not naming any names. We basically lock ourselves in a room for twelve hours a day for several weeks. We start out with brainstorming and our ideas are practically flying from our mouths and fingers and everybody shows enthusiasm for each other’s thoughts. Then someone disagrees with someone else, we take sides, we argue, everyone decides they hate each other, sometimes we try to kill each other. One of us always threatens to leave the band—usually the same person. We don’t see each other for days or weeks, depending on which of us stubborn assholes was the most insulted by the fighting. Eventually one of us either gets tired of the bullshit and forces apologies or the jerk who started the disagreement decides his butt hurt isn’t worth losing everything over and he eats crow. We then lock ourselves into a room again and start over, this time with fewer stars in our eyes and more compromise in our spirit. And somehow songs come out of that chaos.”
Toni wondered which one of them usually started the arguments, which one threatened to quit the band, and which one of them was likely to get them back together. She was almost positive that Dare was the one who made them compromise and get over their differences. Or maybe Max.
“Which one of you threatens to quit the band?” she couldn’t help but ask.
Dare lifted a brow at her. “I said I wasn’t naming names.”
She lowered her gaze. There she went again, shoving her foot in her mouth. His answer had been vague, but a lot more descriptive than the answers she’d pried from Max and Steve.
“You really don’t know?” Dare asked after a moment.
She had a suspicion. “Logan.”
“When the going gets tough, Logan goes.”
Why did that sound like a warning?
The door slid open. “Sorry to barge in,” Logan said, rubbing his neck. “Just making sure I don’t have to punch Dare in the nose again.”
Dare’s look of annoyance sent Logan back a step.
“Everything looks fine back here to me.” Logan closed the door as he left them alone again.
“He’s different with you, though,” Dare said. “I never realized he was such a jealous son of a bitch.”
Toni didn’t particularly like Logan’s behavior when his jealousy got the better of him, but the idea that he was so possessive of her made her heart smile. She couldn’t deny it. Even if they were justfriends.
She turned back to her questions, hoping the next one was better.
“You supposedly own a legendary Flying V guitar that you use to compose all your guitar solos. Is that true?”
“It isn’t exactly legendary,” he said with a chuckle. He nodded to the guitar on the wall. “Does it look legendary to you?”
She glanced over her shoulder at the guitar in question. “Well, it doesn’t glow with a godly power or anything, but if it’s really responsible for the amazing guitar work you create, then yeah, I’d say it’s totally legendary.”
“It’s not even a quality guitar,” Dare said. “By my current standards, it’s a piece of shit. I’d never use it onstage or in the studio. But something about holding it takes me back to my roots. Back to when creating music was new and fun and magical instead of expected or required. Back when there were no expectations of quality. Back when I had no experience and very little raw talent. Back when everything I played came from the heart even if it sounded like shit. That’s where I always want my music to come from. That’s why I still use that cruddy guitar to compose.”
“Oh,” she said breathlessly, completely swept up in his words. In awe of him. This guy was the real deal. “Can I take a picture of you holding the Flying V for the book?” she asked a bit too enthusiastically. She was already picturing a video clip of it glowing on the wall and flying into his hands. A bit cheesy, perhaps, but she could have a lot of fun with it.
“I guess so.”
“I would love to be a fly on the wall when you guys are writing a song. I’d be the most privileged bug on the planet.”
“Maybe I can talk the guys into writing a song for your book while we’re on tour. We’ve got the guitar, after all.”
Every molecule in the room seemed to stop moving. She was so stunned by his suggestion, time had ceased to move forward.
“You okay?” he asked, his brow crumpled with concern.
“Are you serious? Oh my God, Dare, that would be amazing! I can’t . . . I can’t even . . .” She covered her thudding heart with one hand. “Oh!”