Page 30 of Wild

"You drooling over Erin."

Noah lets out a little laugh and runs a hand over his beard because it's starting to itch. The singer is about to protest, to tell him he's being paranoid and make up some excuse to justify standing in that hallway with that dopey look on her face, but he's her best friend and he already knows she has a thing for the doctor, so she makes a dramatic pout and presses her forehead against his chest for a few seconds before looking up, falling into step beside her personal assistant, and watching as Erin starts walking again toward the stage where Mia should already be.

"She's a goddamn goddess and she doesn't even know it," Mia whispers. "Why doesn't she want me?" she asks, turning back to Noah.

He lets out a laugh that echoes through the hallway and slings an arm around her shoulders.

"I guess it must be really hard for someone like you to accept there's a woman out there who's not interested."

Mia wraps an arm around his waist and walks alongside him.

"That's not it. Well, okay, yes, that part is weird," she admits, catching his laugh, "but I actually like her. Every time she touches me to check my vitals, I swear my skin breaks out in goosebumps."

"That's because she's out of reach. I bet if she slept with you, you'd be over her by the next day."

The singer stops dead, and Noah nearly stumbles when his arm gets caught behind her neck.

"Why don't you believe me when I say I like her?"

He runs a hand through his messy hair, not sure what to say.

"I wouldn't be over her, I can promise you that—unless the chemistry in bed was a disaster, which I doubt."

"So you're saying you'd actually date her?" he asks, somewhere between confused and surprised.

"I wish I could date a woman like her. Erin Dooley is everything I've always looked for: older than me, grounded, gorgeous, and immune to my charm." The last part she says as a joke, but also seriously, because ever since she got famous, holding a conversation with a woman for more than ten minutes without her bringing up Mia's work or listing off some virtue she supposedly possesses has become nearly impossible.

"Well, I'm sorry." Noah pulls her close again to keep walking. "You're going to have to turn those pretty blue eyes of yours toward someone else, because she made it pretty clear she's not interested."

"I know, but it's frustrating."

They reach the rehearsal room and the first thing Mia does is walk over to the doctor to have her pulse taken.

"How are you feeling today?" Erin asks before taking her wrist.

"A little tired."

"Didn't sleep well?" She jots down the vitals and sets the notepad on the table beside her.

"I slept six hours straight, but I don't know—I woke up feeling like I'd been hit by a truck," the singer explains.

"Maybe we should push this rehearsal to later," Erin suggests, now checking Mia's pupils while one hand rests on her neck to hold her head steady, lifting one eyelid with the other.

The singer goes still, feeling the warmth of Erin's fingers seep through her skin and send a current through her body that lands between her legs.

"We can't," Mia says once Erin steps back. "Besides, if we stop the schedule every time I'm tired, we'd barely work half the days."

Erin hands her the water bottle to drink from and waits until the singer hands it back.

"All right, we don't stop, but we'll take more breaks, and if you feel anything—"

"Yeah, I'll let you know, don't worry, Dooley, I'm fine," Mia cuts her off.

With a sigh, Erin watches her run toward the center of the stage where the dancers are already waiting. The music starts immediately, and for a moment she forgets what brought her here and loses herself in the movements of Mia's body—movements that are sometimes hard to follow because of their speed—but above all she loses herself in that shameless grin and the euphoric look on her face as she moves and lip-syncs.

"I'm going for coffee," Noah announces, coming up beside her. "Want one?"

"A latte, thanks," Erin says, giving him an affectionate touch on the arm.