FUEL (DirtSlap Series Book 1)

by Ashlynn Pearce

  Cassie swiveled her head and eyed her friend. “I didn’t think you saw him like that.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “I thought you were…uh…” She didn’t know how to say it without sounding rude.

  “Gay? You thought I was gay?” Lila screeched.

  Mick’s laugh boomed behind her, and Lila looked at her like she’d grown horns. “Well, I never see you with any guys and—”

  “Oh girl, you kill me. Believe me, I’m into the guys. Just picky.”

  “Nope. She’s just mean, and guys have no idea how to handle her,” Mick said.

  Lila stuck her tongue out at him, then turned so they faced the guys setting up. “Don’t listen to him. See Ethan, now that boy is hot as hell. And no one, not even you, can say you haven’t noticed. And Thrand, of course. We agree about that one.”

  Lila whispered as she leaned in close, even though Lila didn’t really whisper anything. “Ryan, he’s almost the boy next door, until you see his grin. Cute as fuck, but such a pain in the ass. But Zak,” she paused, “that’s the one who will steal your heart if you’re not careful. Such quiet intensity. You can never figure out what’s going on in his head, yet you’re dying to know.”

  Cassie blinked as her friend scrutinized Zak. Did Lila have a thing for him? “You’re right. And he has incredible eyes.”

  “You noticed that, too? Damn shame we don’t get to see them often. All that hair in his face.” Lila shook her head, then smiled. “Oh, forgot to tell you. We got a new girl.”

  She pointed at the woman who just walked in.

  She had long, dark hair, shorts, and cowboy boots that went perfectly with the Booseys shirt she wore.

  Lila waved, drawing her to them. “Shelby, this is Cassie.”

  Cassie took her hand and shook it. “Hey, welcome to the club.”

  “Thanks. Nice to meet you,” Shelby said with her eyes glued to the stage.

  Cassie grinned when Shelby’s mouth dropped slightly. “Before you ask, yeah, they’re country but with a little dirt.”

  Shelby turned back to them briefly, before sneaking another peek at the guys. “He’s huge and definitely not country.”

  “That’s Ethan. Wait ‘till you hear him sing,” Lila said on a sigh. “He sounds better than he looks, if you can believe it.”

  Shelby’s brown eyes widened. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

  “The guy on drums is Thrand. Zak is the bassist and Ryan is on guitar,” Cassie said. “DirtSlap. This is their first official gig.”

  “You know a lot about them.” Shelby tied an apron around her waist.

  Lila sniggered. “She would. She’s banging the drummer.”

  Heat hit Cassie’s cheeks and she elbowed Lila. “Geez, you make me sound like some groupie.”

  “Well, it’s the truth.” Lila patted her cheeks. “Don’t worry, Jailbait. We know you love him.”

  She left her with Shelby.

  “Jailbait?”

  “I’m legal. Long story. Believe me, it’s better than what I used to be called.” Cassie waved her hand and took a sip of her beer. “This your first night?”

  “Yup. Do you work here?”

  “I do. But tonight I’m taking pictures.” She tapped her camera bag for emphasis. “Hope you’re ready for a busy night. Once they start playing, I have a feeling this place is gonna be hopping.”

  “I’ve waitressed before.”

  The girl was pretty, but sadness lingered on her face. She also appeared a tad nervous the way she crossed her arms around her waist, her too-wide eyes drifting over the small crowd before they settled on the stage again. Cassie understood the feeling and pulled out her camera.

  Ethan stood still, mic in his hand. He had mirrored shades on, so she couldn’t tell what he was looking at, but it would make a great picture.

  “Lila is the best, so if you have trouble, let her know. Or Mick.”

  “Thanks. I will.”

  Cassie meandered through the tables, stopped, and aimed her camera at Ethan, who hadn’t moved, and snapped a pic. His shirt didn’t have sleeves so it showed off all his tatts and muscles. The angle made him look even taller than he was. The band had worked hard to get to this point, and she couldn’t wait to see the show on stage. Her heart raced in anticipation.

  Her eyes met Thrand’s, and she smiled as one corner of his lips lifted slightly. It still didn’t seem real that he belonged to her. She sucked in a breath as he hopped off the stage next to her. His shoulders shifted with his body. It sent a thrill of awareness through her. Would she ever get tired of watching him? She didn’t think so. Some might misjudge him as smug, the way he moved, so sure of himself. He’d always had that, even when they were kids. Between Thrand’s cockiness and Cam’s recklessness, they had been quite the pair.

  The pain of missing Cam slapped her. It took her by surprise, came out of nowhere, and hit her like a jolt. As much as she liked Ryan, Cam should be the one playing on guitar right now. Her happiness dimmed with the reminder of all he had missed by driving off that bridge.

  Thrand touched her face, concern creasing his brow. “You all right, Cas?”

  She nodded. Tears threatened, but didn’t fall. “Cam would be so proud of you.”

  He cocked his head, making her heart flutter. “You think so?”

  “I know he would.” She tightened a hand his shirt. “I wish he was here.”

  “So do I.” He cupped the back of her neck, and drifted closer.

  She gripped her cuff.

  Cam’s cuff.

  Thrand tilted her head up. “We can handle it. We’re making better memories. And he will always be a part of us.”

  She met his intense gray eyes. Her world stood right there. She would go wherever he went. Moments were just that. A slip of time, and that’s all it took for everything to be taken away.

  “I love you,” he murmured. His fingers slid along her jaw, and he kissed her gently.

  She rested her head on his shoulder and breathed. His words seeped into her, and she soaked them in like a sponge. No one had said that to her. Not even Cam.

  She’d never believed in the happy-ever-after, but she believed in him. In them. Their feelings were rock solid.

  She wouldn’t waste what life had to offer.

  She plastered her body against his and kissed him hard and deep. She drowned in his taste, and the arms that held her. She smiled against his lips and said, “It’s time to rock this house.”

  He grinned. “That’s my girl.”

  Available May 2015

  WRECK

  DirtSlap Series

  By

  Ashlynn Pearce

  Chapter 1

  The white house with the chipped paint and rickety porch screamed at Shelby Renner. Weeds grew tall in the yard and the concrete steps were cracked and crumbled. Her heart ached. Tears crowded her throat and spilled down her cheeks. The last time she’d seen the house, the paint was crisp, the yard well-tended. She should have come sooner.

  She’d called Gran often but had no idea she had been in such poor health. Not until she got the call telling her she had died. Gran loved this home and wouldn’t have let it fall into such disrepair if she’d had a choice. Gran lied to her. She had been sick a long time.

  She paced the driveway and her hands shook. If the outside looked this bad, what would she find on the inside?

  She took a deep fortifying breath and walked down the cobbled path. Vines choked the rose bushes and the pink blooms were lost in the mess. Gran had taken such pride in her flowers and it saddened her to see them in such disarray. The porch ran along the entire front of the modest house. She could almost see Gran, sitting in the old wooden rocker, a smile on her face.

  She sucked in her lower lip. You can do this. On leaden feet, she forced herself up the steps. She opened the wooden screen door, unlocked the main one and went inside.

  She froze in the doorway. Boxes were stacked floor to ceiling and a thick coa
t of dust covered everything. She covered her mouth in horror. Gran was a neat freak. This…this was heart-wrenching.

  Shelby’s gaze landed on the little white doily on the recliner and she fell back against the door. Gran would rest her head right there while napping.

  Shelby sank to the floor and leaned against the closed door. Sobs tore her heart as she curled into a ball. She let the pain wash through her and squeezed her eyes shut.

  Curse her mother and step-father for not letting her visit more.

  Curse them for taking her away from here to begin with.

  After giving herself a few moments, she rose to her feet and dropped her purse and keys on the side table near the door. Gran willed everything to her. The house, all its contents and the meager account she’d lived on. Much to the ire of her mother, Camellia, Shelby insisted she needed no help from her to sort through things.

  Camellia could care less about anything that belonged to Gran, even though she was her mother. After years of living under Camellia and her husband, John’s, thumb, she was more than ready for a break. At twenty-two, she could make her own decisions. School could wait.

  Too bad she hadn’t had the guts to stand up to them sooner.

  She walked through the house, amazed how nothing had changed. Except for the boxes, time stood still. The same lace curtains were on the windows, the same little towels hung in the kitchen. All faded and dusty but still the same. The little knick-knacks and Gran’s porcelain collection of tiny cats sat in the hutch, just like they always had.

  She swallowed her tears. Falling apart was not going to get her through this. She wandered around the home she’d lived in until she was ten. So many happy memories. She went upstairs and stepped into her bedroom. Her assortment of unicorns still littered the room, as though waiting for her to come back.

  Ugly cries hit hard as she sat on her bed and bawled.

  A week later found her in a bigger mess than when she started. No small feat to tackle all that was crammed into each nook and cranny. One thing it did do was put perspective on her overbearing parents. She didn’t want to return to Houston, where her every move was scrutinized. So, even though she hated confrontations, especially ones involving her parents, she called her mom.

  “Hi, mom.”

  “Darling. Do tell me you’re on your way home.”

  “About that—”

  “Yes, I’m talking to Shelby. She’s coming home.”

  Shelby closed her eyes in annoyance. She knew her mother wasn’t going to listen to her, but she’d not even given her a chance to talk

  “No, mom. I’m not.”

  “What?” Camellia’s screech had her pulling the phone away from her ear. “Yes you are. You’re getting married remember?”

  Shelby slumped in a chair and rubbed her head. “I need to go through Gran’s stuff. It’s important.”

  “What’s important is your wedding,” Camellia said, her voice cutting. “I didn’t go through all the trouble of finding you a fiancé just so you’d be off wallowing in that god awful city. You will come home Shelby Renner.”

  “How about this. You plan it. You’ll do a much better job than me. I’ll be there when I need to be.” Even if Shelby were there, she wouldn’t get a say in anything anyway. Maybe this way she could get her mother off her back. Because telling her how important Gran’s home was to her wouldn’t make a difference.

  “Oh, that’s brilliant, darling. You are so right. You have no taste for these sort of things. It will be spectacular!”

  “Sure. I’ll call again soon. Bye.”

  Shelby hung up and tears stung her eyes. What a farce.

  How could her mother push her buttons from hundreds of miles away? It showed just how pathetic she was. She rubbed at the pain between her eyes.

  Shelby eyed a porcelain calico cat. “Sorry about that, Ginger. Hopefully, I won’t have to talk to her again anytime soon.”

  She reached into the hutch and picked up the figurine. Its tiny eyes stared up at her, its little paw raised as though asking for something. This one had been Gran’s favorite and she had heard many one-sided conversations between them. Tears blurred her vision.

  “I miss her too,” she said quietly and put it back in the hutch. “If I’m staying here, I need a job.”

  She sighed and shook her head. No way in blazes was she asking her mom for money.

  Shelby’s feet hurt and securing a job in downtown Nashville looked grim. Every place she went took one look at her, heard her Texas accent and automatically assumed she was here to sing. Telling them she wanted a waitressing job just got her laughed at. They would sweep her from head to toe and say, “Sure, honey.”

  By the time she reached a place called Booseys, she squared her shoulders and marched to the bar. Tall and lean with a scraggly goatee, the bartender looked down at her. She paused. Although she had gotten over the initial shock of the type of people who ran bars, this guy looked more unsavory than the rest.

  “What you drinking, doll?”

  “Nothing. I want a job—”

  “Not hiring,” he interrupted before turning his back on her.

  Heat hit her cheeks at the condescending tone.

  “I don’t want to sing. I can’t sing a lick even if I wanted to.” Her words came out in a rush but he kept walking away. “I’m only here because my grandmother died. I need a job. I sure as heck don’t want to ask my mother for money.”

  She clamped a hand over her mouth. Her emotions got the best of her, again. Stuff she should keep to herself always tumbled out. Sick with embarrassment, she spun on her heel to leave as quickly as possible. She didn’t want to hear his laugh, or worse, see his pity.

  “Doll, hold up.”

  She stopped just short of the exit.

  “Turns out, we have a gig tomorrow night. A new band, I think it’s gonna be hopping. Can you handle a crowd?”

  She turned around hesitantly and took two steps to peer into his face. Was he serious? He had flung a towel over his shoulder and eyed her speculatively. No humor, no pity, just a question.

  “I worked at a restaurant near a college campus in Houston. It got busy.”

  He paused for a moment, then nodded. “We can try it tomorrow night, see how it goes. I’m Mick, owner of the place.”

  She offered a tentative smile and shook his hand. “Shelby.”

  “Lila,” Mick shouted and a tiny little red head skipped over to the counter. He motioned to Shelby. “She’s your new coworker, at least for tomorrow night.”

  “Terrific!” Lila turned an impish smile at her, slid so they bumped elbows, then faced Mick. “What’s her name?”

  “Shelby, and don’t scare her off. I gotta take care of some paperwork so I’ll send Angel out.”

  “How can little ol’ me scare anyone?” The girl’s bright blue eyes—beautiful in an odd creepy way—widened innocently.

  Mick snorted in reply as he walked off.

  “Bad ass name. I love those cars.” Lila nodded. “So where you from?”

  “Texas.” She hated when people made reference to her name. The car was cool. Being conceived in the backseat of one when your mom was sixteen wasn’t.

  Lila laughed. “Of course you are. That accent is almost as bad as a Tennessee or Georgia one.”

  Another small girl, with short, cropped, black hair came out of the back. She laid a shirt in front of her. Her porcelain skin made her storm-blue eyes stand out in her tiny face. “Mick said we have another waitress.”

  Lila didn’t seem to notice the girl’s cool demeanor. “This is Shelby, Angel. She’s gonna help out tomorrow night.”

  “Of course. Be here at six.” Angel frowned, narrowed her eyes and looked her up and down. With that the girl turned to bartend for the next customer.

  “Is she my boss?” Shelby asked quietly. If so, she didn’t think she’d work here long.

  “No. Don’t worry about her. She’s just pissy about Thrand.”

  Angel’s eyes
swung towards them and narrowed.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Angel. You know damn well he was never into you.”

  Angel didn’t respond, but her pale face turned pink.

  “She’s Mick’s daughter. Anyway, I can’t wait to work with you. Should be awesome. I better get back to it. See you tomorrow.” With a waggle of her fingers she was off helping customers.

  Shelby watched for a little while so she could get a feel for what was expected. It didn’t look too hard. Take orders, place them at the bar, then deliver the drinks. Pretty simple.

  It also gave her a minute to glance around the place. A small raised stage sat at the back. Tables and chairs were scattered here and there and the bar ran down the left side. Music played from the overhead speakers, but a band was setting up on the stage.

  Hopefully, she would be able to keep up tomorrow night. She did not want to job hunt again.

  The next night, she strode down Broadway. Memories of her and Gran walking along this very street lingered in her mind. She could hear Gran’s voice telling her story after story of all the places that lined the famous strip. Gran grew up in Nashville so she knew everything there was to know. Or so it seemed to her as a child. Time had changed some things, but a lot had remained the same. Tootsies was still there with its neon sign and the Ryman was still around the corner. And Saturday nights were still non-stop and jammed with people on the sidewalks.

  Booseys was just one in a long line of honky-tonks ready to serve up a drink and a country swagger. But she looked forward to doing something other than trying to make sense of Gran’s dusty old belongings. Even if she did have to work.

  Bouncers were in front of every bar, but she hesitated at the sight of the guy sitting at the door to Booseys. He was a heavyset man decked out in black leather with unruly hair and a beard. Thick heavy rings finished off his scary appearance. He made Mick look tame. He locked eyes with her.

  “Shelby!” His booming voice made her jump. “I heard there was a new girl. No worries, doll.” He chuckled and patted her hand. “I’m only scary to those who deserve it. I’m Dooley, by the way.”