by Salsbury, JB
Face the Music
JB Salsbury
Copyright © 2020 by JB Salsbury
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Design: Pixel Mischief Design
Edited by: Joy Editing
“A new commandment I give you:
Love one another.”
- Jesus
John 13:34, The Holy Bible
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Also by JB Salsbury
Prologue
Three weeks ago
Staples Center
Los Angeles, California
Ashleigh
I know the moment it happens—the second the all-consuming rush of butterflies and excitement morphs well beyond infatuation. I can pinpoint the very heartbeat when my feelings for Pastor Ben Langley change from simple attraction into a full-blown crush.
It happens while I’m sitting side stage, watching Jesse Lee perform in front of twenty thousand screaming fans.
Ben was asked by his famous rock star brother to fill in after Jesse’s guitar player, Chris, was tragically injured in a tour bus accident. Who knew Ben even plays guitar? Not me. And my best friend Bethany, Jesse’s wife, seemed equally shocked to find out the man could bust out an ear-shredding guitar solo and make it look as if it took zero effort.
As I watch Ben play, I find myself falling in lust with him. Trust me when I say, he’s sexy enough pacing the pulpit of his church, preaching with a passion that gives me goose bumps, but seeing the good pastor in a great fitting pair of black jeans and a faded Nirvana T-shirt that, when damp with sweat, he wears like a second skin? It’s a departure from his usual button-ups. Black Converse low-tops and his black hair messed up and spikey round out the casual rock star look, and damn… he wears it well. As if those things alone weren’t enough to have me picking my jaw up off my lap, the guy can play.
He commands the electric guitar as if it’s an extension of his body. His fingers expertly pluck, strum, and move along the neck as if the instrument is a woman he’s working to get off.
I press my thighs together and squirm in my seat.
I never imagined there was a whole different side to Pastor Langley. This switch from man of God to rock god hits me like a roundhouse to the gut. When I found out he’d be playing this show, I figured he’d be awkward, out of his element. I assumed his brother was the only one in the family with any real musical talent.
I was wrong.
“Change your mind on the tequila?”
Reluctantly, I pull my gaze from Ben to focus on Jade, the drummer’s girlfriend, who looks fifteen months pregnant. Her light eyes twinkle against her dark skin, and she smirks. She’s probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
“What?” I try to track her meaning but come up short.
She dips her chin toward my hand, and I follow suit. There’s a bottle of Patrón in my grip. How long have I been holding it? I use my teeth to pop the cork and take a long pull of the fiery liquid.
Bethany doesn’t drink, Jade has a toddler in her belly, so my guess is she’s not going to touch the stuff, and the only other person with us is Ben’s five-year-old daughter, Elliot, which means I get the small bottle to myself.
Without my permission, my eyes gravitate back to Ben as he takes center stage for a soul-shredding solo. “God. Damn!”
“Whoa, watch your mouth there, Bathsheba!” Bethany takes away my booze. “Tequila makes you crazy!”
I lean toward her, not taking my eyes off my current fixation. “What did you call me?”
“I would think,” she yells close to my ear, “as much as you like him, you’d pay attention to his sermons!”
I’m already shaking my head. Don’t get me wrong, I do pay attention, just not so much to the words coming out of his mouth. It’s the sound of his deep, demanding voice dripping in sentiment and conviction. Also, his body. I dig watching the man move. And his face has the kind of angles an artist dreams about—strong lines, supple lips, firm and fierce brow, and eyes that give a hint of the mystery and complexity underneath.
After the first few songs, Jesse introduces his fans to Ben, explaining that he’s his brother and telling the women he’ll only be with the band for this show so not to get too wet.
I do a mental panty check.
Too late.
The next song begins with Ben taking center stage, his legs planted wide, sweat glistening on his arms as his muscles contract with every complex chord. My mouth waters with the urge to lick him dry.
I’m not accustomed to wanting someone physically and being unable to at least try to get him naked. I’m restless, tingly, and irritated.
So this is what unrequited lust feels like.
I am not a fan.
It’s going to be a long, uncomfortable night.
Ben
If someone would’ve told me that one day I’d be on stage and playing guitar in front of a stadium of screaming fans while my baby brother stroked his mic stand like it was his dick, I would’ve told them they’re insane.
And yet…
My heart’s pounding, my blood feels alive with an electric pulse, and my soul is lighter than it’s felt in years. At the risk of sounding blasphemous, this feeling is almost spiritual.
As I strum the final few chords to their closing song with Ryder going nuts on the drums behind me, Ethan beating the crud out of his bass, and yes, my brother stroking for the fans, I laugh. Hard.
The stage lights go out and we’re plunged into darkness as the crowd erupts.
“Great fuckin’ show, man!” Jesiah, my brother, crashes into me. His sweaty arms wrap around me, sandwiching the guitar between us. “You kicked ass!”
I hug him back, still laughing because I can’t believe how much fun that was. I haven’t played like that in—well, I’ve never played like that. After a few weeks learning the songs, I assumed I’d get on stage and do my part to help out my brother. I never expected the music would take over to the point where I was lost to it.
Ethan struts toward me, pushing his sweat-soaked shaggy hair from his face. “You were holding back in rehearsals. Holy fuck—oops, I mean uh… unholy fuck?”
I slap him on the shoulder while handing the guitar to the tech. “I didn’t realize I was holding back. I just left it all on the stage.”
“Glad you did! That was amazing!” Ethan says as we head off stage.
I’m drenched in sweat and take the offered towel to wipe my face and head. I lift a chin to Ryder as he climbs down from the drum risers.
He’s shirtless and as sweaty as the rest of us. He holds up a hand for a high-five.
“Best show I’ve ever played!”
“That was a lot of fun.” I can’t stop smiling. I feel liberated or rejuvenated—I don’t know, but I like the feeling.
Ryder wipes his face with a towel and takes a long swig of water. “Don’t tell Chris, but he could learn a thing or two from you. Those solos you played blow his out of the water.”
I’m about to respond when his girlfriend, Jade, steps close and all his attention goes to her. What starts as a hug turns into him lifting her off the ground, and his face disappears behind a curtain of thick curly hair as he nuzzles her neck. I turn away to give them privacy—only to get an eye full of my brother’s tongue all over his wife’s mouth. Feeling as if there’s no safe place to look, I find my daughter, Elliot, at a table sitting with Bethany’s friend Ashleigh, who is dressed like the epitome of a rock-n-roll groupie.
When Ashleigh showed up tonight, it took every ounce of strength I had not to stare at her long tan legs, which looked so smooth they caught the light. Her zebra print mini-skirt and red tank top were a sight to see, and I found myself looking mostly at the floor to keep from staring.
Thankfully, from my vantage point, I can’t see much of her outside of her bright blond hair—since she’s currently being blocked by Ethan as he squeezes in close to her. My jaw works back and forth, and I do my best to ignore them as I walk toward Elliot. She jumps down from her stool and I scoop her into my arms, giving Ashleigh and Ethan my back.
“Good job, Dad—ew, you’re sweaty!”
I rub my cheek against hers, making her squeal, and we both laugh. “You ready to go back to the hotel?”
Her big brown eyes, which remind me so much of her mother, peer up at me. “Can’t we go to the after-party?”
I set her down then squat to her level. “Honey, that’s for grown-ups.”
“Oh.” She frowns. “Are you going?”
“No.” Even though Jes swears he’s no longer the out-of-control rock star he once was, something tells me his after-parties are still rated PG-13 at best.
“But you’re a grown-up.”
“I am, but just because I can go doesn’t mean I should.” I don’t get into the complexities of my job. A party that could have anything from strippers to prostitutes to simply desperate fans, drinking, and possibly drugs is not the environment a pastor of a church should be caught in. “And I’m tired and we’re leaving to go back to Arizona early in the morning.”
“Arizona is boring.” She pouts.
After a few days of being treated like a celebrity in Los Angeles, I can see her point, but still. I snag her hand and move toward the dressing room to get my things.
She tugs on my arm. “Wait, I have to say goodbye to Ashleigh.”
Elliot drops my hand and takes off toward Ashleigh, who is now standing with an eager Ethan invading her personal space. I should tell him to back off. Ashleigh throws her head back and laughs at something he said.
My eyes tighten into a glare. Okay, apparently she’s enjoying the attention.
That’s good.
Good for her.
For him.
Good that they’re hitting it off. He’s a decent guy, although from what I understand, he’s more interested in relationships that last hours rather than years. Perfect for Ashleigh, because she seems to enjoy the same no-commitment type of rendezvous.
My stomach clenches with some unnamed feeling.
I miss Maggie. She always did wish I’d patch up my relationship with my brother. I wish she could’ve seen me share a stage with Jesiah tonight.
She did.
Yeah. I smile sadly. Maybe she did.
“You’re leaving?”
I look up to find Ashleigh standing directly in front of me. “Yeah.” I rub the back of my neck. “Elliot and I are leaving early in the morning.”
“Oh.” She sounds disappointed, but her expression doesn’t give that away. “I guess I’ll see you in church.”
“Yeah. I’ll see you on Sunday.”
“You did great tonight,” she says, backing away with a smile. “Really impressive.” Her gaze sweeps up and down my body.
I flush with heat so new and uncomfortable, I chalk it up to the adrenaline rush after being on stage. “Thank you. And thank you for watching Elliot for me.”
She shrugs. “No biggie.” Her gaze drops to Elliot, who has reclaimed her spot at my side. “Later, midget.”
“Bye, Ashleigh!”
And with a wink, she turns, throwing all that platinum blond hair behind her, and struts to join the rest of the band and their partners. Ethan wraps an arm over her shoulder, and she doesn’t push it off.
“Dad?” Elliot tugs on my shirt.
“Yeah?”
“That was fun,” she says and yawns.
I watch the band disappear around the corner. For the briefest of seconds, I allow myself to wonder what it would’ve been like if I had followed Jesiah when he left home at seventeen. What if I’d gone to Hollywood with him rather than staying home and going to seminary? What if instead of doing the responsible thing, I’d gotten out there and lived, let go, left behind the chains of responsibility and followed my dreams?
If I had, I wouldn’t have met Maggie.
I wouldn’t have Elliot.
“It was fun.” I squeeze her hand. “Let’s go home.”
Chapter One
Present Day
Ashleigh
I figured it out.
While watching Pastor Ben Langley preach confidently from the pulpit, I’m pretty sure I figured out what makes him so irresistible.
It’s his ass.
I mean, sure, he’s also got that tall, dark, and smoldering thing going on—an edginess I got a taste of watching him perform with Jesse. He hides behind his conservative button-ups, slacks, and kind smile, but there is a lot more to him than he projects. He probably masks that side of him to protect himself. He must be unaware of how attraction works. The truth is that women, like me, get a whiff of bad boy and want to unravel all that buttoned-up goodness, strip away his social politeness, and get their hands on the man who lies beneath.
I wonder what he would be if he allowed himself the freedom to just… be.
Dominant?
Possessive?
I bet he likes to pull hair—
“Ashleigh, is everything okay?” His dark eyes are cast in shadows of concern as he studies me sitting in the front pew.
I release the strand of hair I had wrapped tightly around my finger and look to see the sanctuary emptying of people. “Couldn’t be better, Pastor Langley. Great sermon.”
“Thanks.” He tilts his head, and his strong jaw flexes. “I thought we were past you calling me Pastor Langley.”
“My bad, Ben.”
His gaze lingers on my lips a second too long.
They’re painted with cherry red gloss all men tend to notice. I uncross my legs, which are encased in torn-up tights under a plaid, pleated skirt that most would consider too short for church. Speaking of church, only a few people are left in the sanctuary. I was so lost in my thoughts I didn’t realize it was over. Which explains Pastor Ben’s concern.
“I should get going.” Unless you ask me to stay. That last part I hope to communicate with my eyes.
But like always, he doesn’t respond, except to smile politely and nod. I’ve lusted after the man for three years, and no matter how much I flirt, he still looks at me like I’m a piece of furniture, save for the few lingering stares that end in a scowl. I’ve noticed it happening more often in the last few months. It’s as if he gets pissed at his eyes for noticing me.
“Thank you for coming.”
I pretend he’s saying those words in a completely different atmosphere, like in my bed, and suppress a delicious shiver. I gather my purse and wink. “It’s the highlight of my week.”
He grins, quick and polite, but I catch his gaze as it slides down the length of my ponytail to where the ends rest just above my left nipple. He clears hi
s throat, appearing a little flustered, and turns around mumbling another thank you.
I tilt my head and study his sweet ass as it moves beneath the fabric of his Dockers until he disappears around the corner of the stage.
“Shame,” I say to myself. “Such a waste of a great-looking man.”
Not only is he married to his job, but he’s also married to a woman named Maggie. She died six years ago while giving birth to their daughter, Elliot. The kid is cute as shit, which makes sense because Maggie was attractive in a simple way. Pure. Natural. Like Demi Lovato before her glow-up. Anyway, I never met Maggie, but I’ve seen a billion pictures of her at Ben’s house. They cover every wall and shelf. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had her photo tattooed on his chest somewhere. Sadly, I’ve never seen him with his shirt off, so I wouldn’t know.
“… disgusting…”
I turn in the direction of the whispered insult to find Kathy Watson and her dutiful friend Sheila watching me from the corner of their eyes. Every Sunday, these hoes send me death glares as they move from pew to pew, straightening Bibles and picking up discarded church bulletins.
I pull back my shoulders, tits forward, and toss back my ponytail. “Morning, ladies. You know a jealous scowl will give you wrinkles, right?” I point at the spot between my brows using my upright middle finger. “Here, specifically.”
Kathy glares and grasps at the top button of her blouse, which is secured below her chin. “Jealous? Of you?” She makes a show of staring at my cropped white tank top and the black lace bra easily seen beneath it. “Not possible.”
