by Cora York
Broken Copyright © 2019 by Cora York. All Rights Reserved.
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 permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Cover designed by Cora York
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cora York
Visit my website at www.corayork.com
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing: September 2019
Broken
Cora York
Forever from First Sight
CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
About the Author
Chapter One
Colt
I scrubbed my hands over my face and yawned.
The lunch rush had ended a while ago, but in another few hours, every seat and empty space in the bar would be filled again.
Before the craziness kicked off, I took the opportunity to sit in my office and finish up some paperwork. Not my favorite thing to do but the cold beer in my hand sure helped.
Sooner or later, working sixteen plus hours every day of the week would catch up with me, but as my mom liked to say, “No rest for the wicked, son.”
Wicked? Chance would be a fine thing. It’d been longer than a month of Sundays since I’d had the time to date, never mind do anything wicked.
Thank God for hot showers, a steady hand, and a dirty imagination.
Some nights I would give my right arm to go upstairs to a beautiful woman warming my bed. But no woman would put up with coming second to my bar.
There was no room in my life for love or commitment. Been there. Done that. Promised myself never again.
Work came first. If I wanted The Strangled Cat to remain the hottest goddamn honky-tonk in Music City, then I’d do what I had to do, even if that meant staying single.
Every up-and-coming country singer and songwriter with stars in their eyes begged to sing on my sawdust-covered stage. Some even offered to work for no pay just for the chance to perform on open-mic night.
The clientele that hung around here were as rough as old barn nails and could bring a new singer to tears before they’d strummed a chord on their guitar.
Skin tougher than buffalo rawhide was needed to stand on my stage, but once you proved yourself, contracts, records, and radio play often followed.
More than a handful of stars had gotten their start slinging beers for me and singing songs to rednecks, tourists, and cowboys. There was one in particular I didn’t like to think about. I was mostly over her betrayal, but sometimes the memory kicked harder than a horse’s hoof.
I leaned back in my swivel chair and watched the security monitors to see who was coming and going. July meant tourist season was in full swing, which also meant I’d had to hire extra doormen for when things got rowdy and out of control. A fight could break out in a heartbeat, even in a quiet bar.
Lucas, my bar manager, shot the shit with some local barflies. Lauren and Dixie, two of my servers, waited on tables, while Smithy, one of my newer doormen, flirted with a cute girl. A few songwriters sat in the corner brainstorming and scribbling down lyrics.
The front door swung open, and the second I saw her, I moved closer to the screens. Whoever she was, she was new in town. My dick would have remembered if I’d laid eyes on her before because she was hotter than a tin roof in the middle of an August heatwave.
Everything from her beat-up cowboy boots to the Gibson slung over her shoulder screamed wannabe. Strange that she didn’t have a case to protect her guitar. From what I could see, it was a vintage acoustic, older than the one gathering dust on top of my filing cabinets and would cost thousands to buy nowadays.
Black, wavy hair hung past her elbows, a white shirt gave a tasty glimpse of her large breasts, and a pair of jeans ripped to shreds showed toned legs and a round ass.
While her posture and how she strutted across the scratched hardwoods appeared confident, the way she rolled her lips between her teeth showed she was anything but.
That one nervous gesture took me back in time. A place I only went to when I’d had too much whiskey.
Five years ago, a sexy little singer had marched into my life and pretty much stood on the same spot, rolling her lips between her teeth the same way. Three years after that, she marched out of my life. Two years later, I was still single.
Since then, one-night stands had suited me just fine. Rock bottom at Heartbreak Hotel wasn’t a place I planned to visit ever again.
I’d helped my ex make it big, but once she signed a recording and publishing deal, she erased me and our relationship from her history and created an all-American girl next door narrative.
Bitterness seeped into my mouth. The last person I wanted to think about was Montana Chambers. To wash the bad taste and the memories away, I gulped down the rest of my beer.
The wannabe adjusted her guitar strap, took a deep breath, and strode up to the bar, where she said something to Lucas. He shook his head, and her shoulders sagged. She turned toward the door to leave, but hell no, she wasn’t going anywhere.
Curvy women carrying guitars were my kryptonite.
I pushed away from the desk and made my way out to the bar.
“Ma’am,” I called after her.
She spun around. The disappointment and dejection written all over her angel face made me want to wrap her in my arms and kiss everything better.
After what seemed like an eternity but couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, she asked, “Is everything okay?”
The husky sexiness that spilled from her lips wasn’t something I’d expected to hear. The natural grit in her voice made it sound like she smoked five packs a day, and my dick twitched in appreciation.
“Everything’s fine,” I said, and then grinned. “Can I help you with something?”
Her Cupid’s bow lips turned downwards, and she shook her head. “The guy behind the bar says you’re all set for singers.”
“That’s Lucas, and he’s right, we’re booked through the end of the year. Open-mic night’s tomorrow, but if you want a spot, you need to get here early. Singers and bands start lining up at dawn to get their name on the list.”
She sighed and shrugged. “I’ve been pounding the pavement all day. This is harder than I thought.”
Smithy, who stood by the door a few feet away, sniggered. “I’ve got something else you can pound. That’d be harder than you thought, too.”
Primal need to protect her kicked in and my hand curled into a fist. I strode toward the thick-necked doorman.
No one would talk to her like that.
Smithy was a big guy, but I was bigger and tougher. Years of herding horses on my family’s ranch and proving myself to my dad and ranchers meaner than a basket of vipers had taught me well.
I grabbed the lapels of his black shirt and got in his face. “What the fuck did you say?”
His eyes bulged, and his cheeks reddened. “Nothing.”
“Didn’t sound like nothing to me. How about I pound your face? My fist’ll hit harder than you ever imagined. Now, say sorry to the lady.”
He cowered and held his hands up in surrender. “Ma’am, I apologize,” he said, glancing in her direction. “I didn’t mean nothin’.”
“One hundred percent, boss.”
I turned toward the wide-eyed beauty. “Please accept my personal apology.”
She firmed her lips and nodded, but from the way her eyes flashed, I could tell she was majorly pissed. “It’s fine. I’ve heard worse.”
“It’s not fine and will never be fine.” She hadn’t even told me her name, yet here I was ready to punch any man who’d ever said anything inappropriate to her.
What had gotten into me? I was acting like I’d lost my mind, and maybe I had. I swallowed down my anger and stepped toward her. “You’re new here.”
“Got off the bus yesterday.” She held out her small hand. “The name’s Natalie Davis. Most people call me Nattie or Nat.”
“Which do you prefer?”
“Whatever,” she said with a shrug.
The second I took her soft, ring-free hand in mine, a zing of electricity shot up my arm and down to my dick. This girl literally had me in the palm of her hand.
Jesus H. Christ.
This isn’t good.
“Oh, I...” Her pupils dilated, and her lips parted. Whatever I’d felt, she’d felt it too. “I don’t think I caught your name, cowboy,” she said, her hand still wrapped in mine, neither of us seeming in a hurry to let go.
“Where are my manners? Colt Flynn.”
A wide smile lifted the corners of her lips, brightening her beautiful face. “I know you. I mean, I don’t know you, but I’ve read about you. You own this place. You gave Montana Chambers her first gig. She mentioned you in her biography.”
Three years chopped down to one line in a biography filled with lies. I nodded and did my best to keep my expression neutral as I always did whenever Montana’s name was brought up. “That I did. Look at her now. Selling out stadiums and getting number one records all over the place.”
“She’s my inspiration. One day I want to be just like her.”
“Maybe one day you will.” Natalie’s childlike enthusiasm was cute, and I wouldn’t ruin her good mood by telling her exactly what kind of person her idol was or how much she loved knocking back shots until she didn’t know her own name.
Nat’s stomach rumbled, and she placed her free hand over her belly. “Excuse me. I guess I didn’t eat a big enough breakfast or lunch.”
Reluctantly, I let go of her other hand and gestured toward an empty table. “Sit. Let me get you something to eat. We serve the best burgers in town.”
Her cheeks heated as if I’d embarrassed her. “As delicious as that sounds, I need to keep looking for a job. Thanks anyway.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and tilted her head to the side. “Do you know anyone who’s hiring? I’ll wash dishes, mop the floors, heck, I’ll even scrub toilets.”
We didn’t need any more staff, and I couldn’t give her a spot on the stage, but, screw it, a girl like her would get eaten up out there, and if anyone was going to eat her, it would be me. “How about you work here?”
“I thought...”
“I can always use another server. What do you say?”
Natalie
“You serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
The urge to throw my arms around him and plant a big, fat kiss on his lips was huge, but since I’d only just met him, that could seem inappropriate, especially if he was going to be my boss.
I couldn’t believe this drop-dead gorgeous man with a deliciously deep Tennessee twang had offered me a job. Perhaps my luck was changing. Ever since I’d left home, nothing had gone to plan. Not that there was much of a plan except for going to Nashville and making music and selling my songs.
When I stood to get off the bus, the hundred dollars I’d saved to see me through my first week had fallen out of my pocket onto the floor. The jerk behind me picked it up and claimed the money belonged to him. The driver took his side.
I’d tried busking, but since it’d been raining most of the night, not many people wanted to stop and listen. Then some little punk stole my guitar case and the few bucks I’d earned. So instead of finding a cheap motel room to crash in, I’d slept in a gazebo. I woke up at the butt crack of dawn and used the bus station bathroom to freshen up, then stashed my rucksack in an alleyway where hopefully no one would find it.
The only thing I’d had to eat since last night was a bag of potato chips and a peanut butter sandwich.
I’d been walking around looking for a job for hours. There was nothing I wouldn’t do—except stripping. Something like that would come back to bite me in the ass when I was famous. But I’d meant it when I said I’d scrub toilets.
“Can I start now?” I asked.
“How old are you?”
“Nineteen.”
“You’ll have to apply for a permit before you can serve alcohol.”
I frowned. I knew it was too good to be true. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll have to decline. I kind of need a job now.”
He held up his hands in a slowdown gesture. “Not so fast. Until you get your permit, you can pick up glasses and help the servers. But first things first, you need to eat. You’ll be on your feet all night.” Colt gestured toward a cute server with pink and blue hair. “Lauren, this is Nat. She’s going to be helping out tonight. Grab her a cheeseburger with all the fixins’, fries, and a Coke.”
“You got it.” Lauren grinned in my direction. “Welcome to the madhouse. You’ll love it here.”
My stomach rumbled again, but I couldn’t pay for the meal he’d ordered. “I, uh, I don’t have any spare cash at the moment.” Rather than meet his eye, I stared at the stage, hoping he wouldn’t notice how flushed my cheeks were.
“Since everyone works for minimum and tips, food is included. All you can eat.”
I turned to face him and raised an eyebrow at that statement. “Next you’ll be telling me you provide health insurance, too.”
“For every single employee and dental.” Pride sounded in his voice and showed in his face. In front of me stood a man who took care of people, and for some reason, he wanted to take care of me. I’d be a fool to turn down his job offer.
“You some kind of guardian angel or something?”
He chuckled softly, and the deep sound set every hair on my body on end. “Not how the people around here would describe me, but sure, I’ll be your guardian angel.”
Before I sat, I removed my guitar and laid it across a vacant seat, taking the opportunity to study him.
Silver flecked his thick, dark hair. At least two days of stubble covered his strong jaw, and ocean-blue eyes glinted from behind long lashes.
Intricate tattoos that looked Asian in design decorated both his arms and hands. More tattoos peeked out from the neckline of his black cotton T-shirt. Worn Wranglers hugged his muscular thighs and tight butt, and like every self-respecting cowboy, he wore a scuffed-up pair of boots mostly hidden beneath his jeans.
I guessed he was maybe fifteen years older than me, putting him around thirty-four. Older guys weren’t my thing, but, dang it, being near this older guy left my nipples hard and my panties damp.
After a forgetful five-minute fumble in the front seat of my car when I was seventeen, I hadn’t dated much. The boys in Gainesville were a-holes, plus my dad’s temper and how he treated my mom before she passed convinced me to never get romantically involved with any man as long as I lived, but I had a tingly feeling Colt could persuade me otherwise.
No, I reminded myself. I wasn’t in Nashville to fall in love, fall in lust, or fall into bed with anyone no matter how hot they were. I was in Nashville to sing my songs and kick-start my career.
“I’m glad you walked into my bar, Nattie,” he said in a slow, honey-coated drawl. “This could be all kinds of fun for both of us.”
Oh, my word. He was flirting with me, and I kind of liked how glowy it made me feel.
“Is it hot in here, or is it just me?” I asked, surprised at the wobble in my words.
“Just you,” he said, his voice turning gravelly.
“I sure could use that Coke to help cool me down.” I’d also settle for an ice bath or a vacation in Antarctica.
Small ripples ran up and down my spine, and my nipples stiffened. Thank goodness my shirt was loose enough to hide how he affected me. I’d met Colt less than ten minutes ago, and yet here I was ready to strip off all my clothes and ask him to screw me senseless over the bar.
“Tell me about yourself, Nattie.”
“Nothing much to tell other than all my life I’ve dreamed of coming to Nashville and standing in the circle at the Grand Ole Opry.”
“And if that doesn’t happen?”
I raised my chin. “One way or another, it will. I’ll sell my soul to make sure it does.”
A small smile creased his cheek. “In this town, there’ll be plenty of takers.”
“Here you go.” Lauren set a plate filled with crispy fries and a massive burger in front of me. She also set down an iced Coke and a bottle of Bud, which I figured was for Colt. My mouth watered like Amicalola Falls after a summer storm. Dang, I was hungry.
Without wasting another second, I picked up the burger and groaned when the first taste hit my tongue. “You sure as heck weren’t lyin’,” I said while still chewing. “This is the best burger I’ve ever had in my life.”
Colt took a deep pull from his beer, and I watched his throat muscles work as he swallowed. Lord, he even made drinking a beer look sexy.
He lowered the bottle and cradled it in his hands. “What’d your parents have to say about you coming all the way to Nashville on your own?”
I munched on a fry and thought about my answer. How much did I want to give away about myself? I could tell him the truth: that I’d dropped out of community college and was someplace where my dad and his fists couldn’t find me. Not that my dad cared one way or another where I was. Or I could lie and tell him a load of crap.
I went with the crap option.
