by Lisa Suzanne
ASK ME LATER
© 2020 Lisa Suzanne
All rights reserved. In accordance with the US Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher or author constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law and except for excerpts used in reviews. If you would like to use any words from this book other than for review purposes, prior written permission must be obtained from the publisher.
Published in the United States of America by Books by LS, LLC.
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters and events in this work are figments of the author’s imagination.
“Ask Me Later” was first published in the My Night with a Rockstar charity anthology.
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BOOKS BY LISA SUZANNE
CAPITAL KINGSMEN
No Commitment
MY FAVORITE BAND STANDALONES
Take My Heart
The Benefits of Bad Decisions
Waking Up Married
Driving Me Crazy
It’s Only Temporary
The Replacement War
A LITTLE LIKE DESTINY SERIES
A Little Like Destiny (Book One)
Only Ever You (Book Two)
Clean Break (Book Three)
THE UNBREAKABLE THREAD DUET
The Power to Break (Book One)
The Power to Break - Audiobook
The Invisible Thread (Book Two)
The Invisible Thread - Audiobook
CLICK HERE FOR MORE
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 1
“You’re what?” I practically yell into the phone.
“I’m trying to get a squirrel out of my house, Danielle,” my boss tells me. “You can do this. Have Christine take your position for the night and you take mine. I’ll do my best to get there tonight, but it’s more likely I’ll just see you tomorrow.” He cuts the call, and that’s that.
I stare blankly at my phone for a second as I sit at my desk—early to work as usual—and contemplate what he just told me.
Instead of the back of house supervisor position I’ve been working for two years as the assistant venue manager at a huge arena in Milwaukee, tonight I will be the actual venue manager.
That means instead of operational supervision like checking up on my ushers, box office staff, and maintenance crew, I’ll be working with the band’s manager, providing hospitality, and maybe even working directly with members of the band.
All because Patrick, my boss, somehow let a freaking squirrel into his house.
Capital Kingsmen, the band headlining tonight, is set to arrive in two hours. The opening band will arrive in the next fifteen minutes.
I’ve seen Patrick do it plenty of times, but I’m more the quiet, behind the scenes managing type, not the one who meets with the musical acts we’ve booked to perform.
We’re completely sold out tonight with a capacity of twenty thousand expected in attendance, so it would’ve been a busy night either way. But now I have the responsibility of ensuring the band is comfortable and all the riders in their contract are met, and that’s just never been my job. Hospitality I can handle, but I don’t even know how to deal with the technical stuff.
And he wants me to call Christine from marketing, the woman who will be all too happy to step up and prove herself.
The next thing you know, I’ll be out on my ass because Christine’s hair is blonder and her legs are longer and she’ll just waltz in and take my job out from under me all because of dumb Patrick and an even dumber squirrel.
I huff that this is my life right now as I pull up Christine’s number, and I dial it before I lose my nerve.
I will not let her take my job from me. I repeat that mantra a few times in my head before she answers.
“I suppose an usher has a sore throat and you need me to cover?” she answers.
God, she is just not my favorite person. “No,” I say, forcing the snide tone from my voice. “Actually Patrick is tied up and he needs me to step in as acting venue manager tonight. He asked me to call you to see if you’re available to work as my assistant manager.”
“Guarantee I get to meet the band and I’ll do it,” she says.
Capital Kingsmen is made up of four good looking guys. I’ve seen their pictures enough times over the last few months as I worked with the marketing materials for the summer season, and I get why she’d want to meet them. Some people get involved in this career because of their love for musical performances, and others get involved because they love chasing celebrities. Any guesses which one I am versus which one Christine is?
“Fine,” I mutter.
She squeak-squeals.
“Be here in an hour,” I say, and I hang up. I pull up Alex’s number next. He’s Patrick’s right hand technical man.
“I already heard from Patrick and I’m on my way,” he says instead of hello.
I laugh. “Thanks, Alex. I owe you one.”
“No, but Patrick does,” he says, and I can tell from his tone that he isn’t happy. “I had a date tonight.”
“Bring her along. I’ll make sure she meets the band.” I think I have the actual power to do that.
He’s thrilled and I’m already putting out fires. I’m practically made for this job.
Except I’m totally not. I’m nervous as I meet the opening band, but everything goes smoothly. Their riders are basic—some towels, food, and beer.
I take care of the crew, too, which is mostly standard requests. And then I read through the riders for Capital Kingsmen.
They’ve listed the standard items plus some unusual requests. Black licorice bites in a bowl, chicken fingers with crispy French fries, a bottle of cheap scotch, and twelve lemons.
Whatever. It’s my job tonight to get that stuff for them, not to judge them for it. Actually I already had Christine pick up the licorice, and she’s busy with the ushers now.
My phone beeps with a text just as I’m emptying the bag of black licorice into a bowl, and a quick glance at my phone tells me the band is here.
The openers were nice, and they took it all in stride that they weren’t meeting with Patrick, but they’re newbies. They’re not quite as famous as these guys.
I’ll admit I’m more than a little nervous, but I’m also a professional. I can do this.
I walk through the maze of hallways to get to the loading dock where artists enter and exit the arena. I’m holding a clipboard tight against my chest where my heart thumps nervously. I’m wearing casual jeans and a t-shirt since I didn’t really think I’d be meeting the band tonight.
Their tour bus is already here and parked, but they haven’t gotten off just yet. As I wait for their manager to get off the bus and come talk to me since agents and managers are typically who Patrick deals with, I glance down at my clipboard. I’ve checked just about everything off the list I can for now.
I hear
the door to the bus open, and when I glance up, a single person gets off the bus and makes his way toward me. I’m pretty sure it’s a member of the band, not the manager, and I only know that because of those marketing materials. I probably should have studied these guys a little more closely. Maybe learned their names.
And I would have if I’d have been given some warning. My nerves spike again.
“I’m Tommy Stevenson,” he says, and I suppose I should know who that is.
“Danielle Watson,” I say, holding out a hand.
“Where’s Patrick?” he asks.
“He had an emergency, so I’ll be taking care of you tonight.”
His eyes flick down to my chest and back up again. “I’d love to have you take care of me tonight.” He offers a lazy grin, and God these rock stars are really just all the same, aren’t they? Like they can just flick their eyes wherever they want and women will drop their panties for them.
I don’t let him fluster me, though, and thankfully I’m saved from awkwardness when the rest of the band descends the steps of the bus and starts walking toward us.
And that’s when I hear it.
“Dani Watson?”
No one has called me Dani in the last six years. Maybe longer.
I glance up and my eyes meet semi-familiar ones, but the rest of him doesn’t match the memories I have of those eyes. I’d remember someone who looked like that. From this distance, his eyes are dark. He has dark hair, a little bit of sexy scruff on a strong jawline, and tattoos snaking down powerful arms. “Do I know you?”
He chuckles, and then he sings three words of a slogan that take me back nearly ten years. “Guacamole, fajitas, chips.”
“The salsa makes me do backflips!” I finish, and the other members of the band stare at us like we’re dorks.
“Tyler Caldwell,” he says, pointing to his chest.
We worked together at Carne’s, a chain restaurant in Los Angeles where I hail from...so it is him.
And wow, he’s aged nicely.
My jaw falls open. “Tyler Caldwell?” I repeat. “But you were a skinny band nerd!”
A skinny band nerd who, by the way, bussed tables at Carne’s and passed by the hostess stand twelve times every hour just to ask me out.
I always said the same thing. “Ask me later.”
I figured he was just doing it to be funny. We were friends. Close friends, and admittedly I had a little bit of a crush on him at the time. I honestly thought he was just teasing me every time he asked me out, and so I told him to ask me later. That way it was never an actual rejection.
We hung out after work in a group with the other bussers and hostesses around our age. We snuck shots from the bottles behind the bar when our boss wasn’t looking and we nabbed French fries from plates before they were served to our guests.
But if I’d have known he’d grow up to look like he does now...maybe I would’ve taken his advances more seriously.
He closes the gap between us to give me a hug, and while it should just be two old friends sharing a hug, something lights up inside me when I breathe him in. He smells good—clean and fresh—but it’s something more.
He tilts my entire world on its axis for a second.
A sharp, dull ache presses between my thighs, so sharp that I actually gasp a little at his touch.
Whoa. I don’t even know where that came from.
I always liked Tyler back in the day, but I never felt like that around him. Apparently just a hug from a hot guy can do that to me now.
I haven’t felt this way since Nate and I first started dating...well, come to think of it, maybe not even then. Nate and I dated for six months before we got engaged, and then we broke up three years later, a month before we were supposed to get married.
And I haven’t been with anybody since the last time I slept with him over a year ago.
The four men standing across from me all laugh, Tyler included. He shrugs once he pulls out of our hug, and I still feel a little dazed by it all. Especially up a little closer, where his eyes aren’t so dark anymore and they look more familiar. Green and clear, like they can see right through me.
Wow.
“I’m still a band nerd, but I started working out in my early twenties.”
“And you’re a member of Capital Kingsmen now?” I surmise, doing my best to hang onto my cool. I remember him always talking about his band, but it didn’t go by that name. He went off to college, and I started dating my first real boyfriend, and we just sort of lost touch.
He nods. “We went by Dust to Dust back then.” His brows wrinkle. “How’d you end up in Milwaukee?”
I laugh. “Long story that involves a dog and an ex-boyfriend.”
The other members of the band are watching us like a tennis match. “Man, we have a lot of catching up to do.”
I smile, and as much as I want to stand here and catch up with a total blast from the past who I’d like to see blasting into my future, too, I have a job to do. “First we need to get the four of you situated. Follow me.”
Tyler leads the pack and walks beside me rather than trailing behind me. “What kind of dog?”
I glance over at him with my brows down in confusion.
“That brought you to Milwaukee, I mean. You just never seemed like the kind of girl who’d want to leave California.”
“I wasn’t,” I admit. “And it was a Jack Russel Terrier.”
“Was?” he asks, and I nod. “I’m sorry.”
“He’s still alive,” I say. “But my stupid ex got him in the break-up.”
He chuckles. “Why didn’t you go back to California?”
I hold my hands up to motion all around me.
“This job?”
I nod. “I love what I do, and jobs in the music industry are hard to come by, as I’m sure you know. But California has nearly seven times the population of Wisconsin, so that means getting a position like this would be about seven times harder if I went back home. Probably even worse odds than that. What about you? Are you still in LA?”
He nods. “I still go to Carne’s all the time. Their salsa really does make me do backflips. Or I like to go and remember the gorgeous hostess who turned even hotter over time.”
My cheeks burn at his assessment, and then we arrive at the dressing room door marked with a temporary sign that reads Capital Kingsmen.
I open the door to let them in. I want to keep talking to Tyler, but he’s here for a reason. We both have jobs to do, and I’m sure catching up with me isn’t his top priority, so I make an easy out. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be in my office prepping for tonight.”
Three of the four guys walk into the room, but Tyler hangs back. “I need something,” he says. His voice is low and gritty, and our eyes lock. Heat passes between us.
The attraction I thought was a joke when we were teenagers?
Holy hell.
I’m not laughing now.
My chest buzzes as his words thick with innuendo wash over me. “What can I do for you?” I murmur.
“I never forgot about you,” he says. “I always regretted that I never got to kiss you.”
I squeak out some noise as I’m at a total loss for words.
“Tyler!” one of the guys yells from inside the dressing room.
He turns back and glances at them. “Fuck,” he mutters. “I need to go, but maybe we can talk later?”
I nod, and he smiles, and it’s the kind of smile that makes me want to get naked right here, right now. I’m not sixteen anymore. I’m a woman now.
A woman with needs.
A woman full of lust.
And he’s certainly not a skinny band nerd anymore, either.
He turns and walks into the room, and I draw in a deep breath as I head back to my office.
We can definitely talk later, Tyler. In fact, I think we can do so much more than talk.
CHAPTER 2
I don’t know if Patrick is the one who normally takes food t
o the band when it’s ready, but I’m not missing my chance to talk to an old friend.
I’m also not letting Christine go in there solo.
So we each take two of the Styrofoam containers filled with chicken fingers and crispy fries and head toward their dressing room about an hour before the openers are set to take the stage.
I knock, and Tommy opens the door a few beats later. My eyes immediately hunt for Tyler. I find him in the corner with a glass of the cheap scotch in one hand and his phone in the other as he stares down at it.
“Food’s here,” Tommy yells, opening the door a little wider, and Tyler glances up.
Our eyes lock, and his lips lift into a smile. He slides his phone in his pocket, and Christine and I set the food down on the table for the guys to grab at their convenience.
“This is Christine,” I say to the four men of Capital Kingsmen plus their manager. “She’s helping me out tonight in Patrick’s absence. Christine, this is the band.”
“Oh I know all about the band,” she says, her voice full of flirtation. “Tommy, Tyler, Brett, and Dustin.”
I try not to roll my eyes.
Her eyes zero in on Tyler. “I’m such a huge fan.”
Hell to the no, bitch. My hackles rise all the way up, but Tyler doesn’t give her the time of day.
Instead, he offers a small smile to the room in general before he glances over at me, and then he makes his way around the table by my side. He tosses an arm around my shoulder. “Did Dani here tell you that we go way back?”
Christine’s eyes widen and her jaw falls slightly open. “Dani?”
I smirk. “Sometimes it’s short for Danielle. Tyler and I used to work together.”
“I must’ve asked her out a thousand times, but she always told me to ask her later.” He glances down at me. “Well, it’s later, so I’ll try once more. Will you come to the after party with me tonight?”
Christine’s mouth falls all the way open at his question.
I lift a shoulder and try my hardest to maintain my cool even though the fangirl living inside me is quaking that this rock star just asked me on a date—even if he is the same boy I once knew. Because that’s the thing...he’s not the same boy I once knew. This is a man, and it’s a man I’m suddenly quite interested in. And I’m not sure we’ll have more laters. We only have now. “I mean, presuming I’m done with what I need to do, then maybe.”
