“Go for it.” Dylan popped the latch on his side. As the top folded into its compartment, he swept his gaze over her. She wore a light blue sleeveless blouse with a daisy print and ankle-length white pants. They looked painted on her and . . . hello, curves! Those had been hiding under the skirt she’d worn yesterday.

He shook his head with a slight smile. Guess she wasn’t planning to go hiking. She certainly wasn’t dressed for it.

Joy slung him a look. “What?”

“You look nice.” Too nice, he thought, for someone he’d friend-zoned.

“Thanks.” A skittish half smile quirked her full lips. She exited the parking lot.

Once they’d turned onto West Columbus Avenue and headed northeast on US Route 180, Joy announced, “We’re on the road.”

“Yes, we are.” Dylan glanced at her, loving the feel of the wind in his hair, the freedom of moving. His Porsche was a convertible. It had been only two days since he left LA and he missed that sweet ride.

“I always wondered what it would be like to live on a tour bus. I’ve read about it, but that’s not the same.”

Dylan slowly nodded, understanding the meaning behind her announcement about being on the road. He’d promised to share the Westfield Brothers’ tour bus rules.

“I think it would be cool to wake up in a new city every morning.”

“It gets old fast,” Dylan countered. He wondered if she’d feel the same by the time they’d reached New York.

“I’ve seen photos. Some bands have majorly plush rides. Like Aerosmith. Rolling Stone did a feature. Have you seen their bus? It’s like a five-star hotel. What was your dad’s bus like?”

“It wasn’t a five-star hotel, that’s for sure.” When he was a kid, life on the road was an adventure. As he got older, living on the bus was a serious pain in his teenage ass. He had minimal privacy and, looking back, he’d been exposed to far more than any teenager should. It still surprised him that his mom, Billie, agreed Dylan could work as Jack’s guitar tech during tour season after she’d quit as the band’s manager. She hadn’t been there to watch out for him, and Jack never could get the hang of parenthood. Or monogamy.

Dylan and Billie were close now, but only for the past few years as Dylan, through his own life experiences, recognized how messed up Billie had been after Jack. It wasn’t until Billie invited him to one of her counseling sessions that Dylan understood that his mom had to fix herself before she could fix her relationship with him.

“What was tour bus life like?” Joy asked, tugging him back to the car, the road underneath and the wind in their hair.