Coming Undone by Susan Andersen

was never stupid. Besides, face it, it’s their bus.”
    For just a second her voice held a forlorn note. Then faster than the speed of light she gave an oh well, who-the-hell-gives-a-rip shrug and turned her attention to him. “Pick whatever bunk’s available after Hank and Eddie choose theirs.” Turning away, she added, “Which reminds me—I’d better go grab one for myself.”
    “Uh-uh, girlfriend,” Nell said from the front of the bus. “You get the stateroom.”
    P.J. jerked around to stare at her friend, then walked forward to join the other woman. “The what?”
    “Stateroom, honey. As in an honest-to-gawd bedroom at the end of the bus. It’s got two double beds and an actual door. With a lock. ” Nell grinned. “Can you say privacy? No tumbling out of a claustrophobic little enclosed bunk for you, Morgan.”
    “Or you, either, Husner. Two doubles sounds like a bed apiece to me.” She whooped, hooked Nell around the neck and planted a smooch on her cheek. “We’re outnumbered at the best of times in this biz. I say us girls gotta stick together. Oh, man, a room. I am so off to bed.” She started boogying her way down the aisle with the same exuberance she’d shown when she’d first entered the bus but came to a dead stop when she reached the spot where Jared stood blocking the aisle.
    He couldn’t have said why he didn’t get out of her way, but he stood his ground.
    “Excuse me,” she said politely enough, but the look in her eyes as they met his suggested she’d be pleased as punch to apply her fist to his nose. Not that she gave voice to the desire by so much as a word or inflection. “It’s been a long day,” she said neutrally, “and I’ve got a radio satellite tour scheduled to start at five a.m. So if it’s all the same to you, I’d really like to catch at least a few hours’ sleep.”
    Feeling like a bully who’d burst her balloon not once but twice tonight, he stepped aside and watched her continue down the aisle toward the rear of the bus. “What’s a satellite tour?” he inquired of her back.
    The stateroom door closing between them was his only reply and he turned to look at the remaining occupants.
    Eddie merely said, “I’m off,” and left the bus.
    Hank rummaged through the compact fridge beneath the galley’s counter.
    “Hand me that bottle of Jack Daniels, will you, Hank?” Nell said. “I could stand a shot.”
    And Jared got it—he was lower than a cockroach and they couldn’t be bothered to step on him, never mind talk to him. He reclaimed his spot on the bench seat.
    After pouring a shot of whiskey into a stubby glass and tossing it back, however, Nell apparently decided to take pity on him, for she abruptly turned, leaned her hip against the galley counter and gave him a level look—a vast improvement over her earlier you’re-the-shit-on-the-bottom-of-P.J.’s-shoe glare.
    “A satellite tour is a series of radio interviews conducted over the phone via satellite,” she said. “They’re usually set up for the morning commute programs, which means getting up before dawn if you’re on the west coast. At least Peej doesn’t have any east coast ones scheduled.”
    “Yeah,” Hank agreed. “It’d be a shame to add anything else to her burden. Between Wild Wind’s insulting behavior and you playing watchdog, she’s got pretty much all she can bear.”
    “Then maybe I should just go to bed and get out of everyone’s hair.”
    “Well, you could do that,” Hank agreed. “It’d be a damn shame, though, if you got all settled and we had to roust you out when we’re ready to go to bed. Since you might pick one of the bunks we want.”
    Like there was any might about it. Slumping down on his tailbone, he tipped the brim of his hat back down over his eyes, stretched out his legs and crossed his arms over his chest, willing himself to outwait P.J.’s band members without complaint—even if God alone knew when Eddie would return. But,