Aria (Duet Series Book 1)

by Jennifer Hartmann

  And the asshole persona.

  A few more moments passed, and Julia began waving her over. Chelsie swallowed her drink with a clunky gulp and grabbed Lisa’s hand, joining Julia and the guitarist at the base of the private staircase. They had to push their way through dozens of women who had started to notice the musician’s presence.

  "Hey, guys! This is Noah Hayes," Julia introduced. Her eyes were glowing with enthusiasm. "As we all know, he's the guitarist for Freeze Frame.”

  Chelsie put on her most noteworthy 'not impressed' face and eyed Noah with guarded apprehension. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of a greeting – much like he had unkindly done to her earlier that evening. Then she felt Julia's elbow ram into her ribcage. "Ouch!" she hissed.

  Noah crossed his arms over his faded, green t-shirt and cleared his throat. "Right. You were the one who brought us the water," he said, then held up a finger in remembrance.

  "You're welcome, by the way,” Chelsie quipped.

  Noah quirked an eyebrow at her boldness. "Well, you've got some bite in you, huh?"

  Chelsie held her own, unruffled by Noah’s crass attitude. "You were disrespectful and I'm calling you out."

  "You walked up there all googly-eyed. What was I supposed to do?"

  Chelsie took a step forward, a feisty comeback on the tip of her tongue.

  Julia quickly maneuvered herself between her friend and Noah. "Ooo-kay! How about we meet the rest of the guys?"

  Lisa gave an enthusiastic nod in agreement.

  Noah narrowed his eyes at Chelsie. "Sure,” he said flatly.

  Chelsie trailed behind the group, anger running rampant through her. What right did he have to treat her like that? Noah Hayes didn't know a thing about her.

  This was why men were seriously lacking in her life.

  "Don't worry, Chelsie. I'm sure that guy's just a bad egg. Devon will be great – I promise," Lisa said, squeezing Chelsie’s hand. "Don't let this ruin your night. You're the luckiest girl in the room right now."

  Chelsie forced a smile. "Thanks, Lisa. Just keep me out of arm's reach from that jerk."

  They walked up the staircase and entered the private lounge. The room was spacious and illuminated with multi-colored lights. There were plush, red couches and a minibar against the far wall. Chelsie's foul mood scattered when she spotted Devon sitting in the corner of the suite talking with the two other band members. Her gaze traveled back to the bar, where two buxom blondes were giggling over martinis.

  "Hello, boys," Julia purred. It was no surprise she was the first to speak. "I'm Julia."

  Noah cleared his throat. "And this is Water Girl," he said, making an animated hand gesture toward Chelsie.

  Chelsie jerked her head in his direction and glared at him through impassioned eyes. His own eyes sparkled in reply, and Chelsie's stomach turned at the realization he was getting off on tormenting her.

  "Chelsie has a better ring to it.” Devon appeared at her side and held out his hand in greeting, a slow smile curling at his cheshire lips. “It is Chelsie, right?"

  She nodded, her fury dissipating. "Yeah. I mean, yes. I'm Chelsie." When their hands met, a spark shot through her and said fury dissolved into ash.

  "I'm Devon," he replied, their hands still clinched together. "I'm glad you could make it out tonight."

  Chelsie tried to keep her hormones in check – hey, where did those come from? – and swallowed back her nerves. Her heart rate increased to a concerning pace as they maintained eye contact. Oh, boy.

  "So," Devon continued. "I see you and Noah have already met."

  "Unfortunately. But I'm confident I got the worst out of the way."

  The room broke out into laughter.

  "Ouch," Noah said, holding a hand up to his heart like a metaphorical dagger. "You're just all sorts of sassy, aren't you, Water Girl?" He sauntered over to the minibar and threw his arms around the two model-wannabes. "At least Sadie and Sophie are nice to me."

  The blondes nuzzled in closer and Chelsie looked away in disgust, trying not to outwardly gag.

  Devon rolled his eyes. "Just ignore him. I know I do. Here, let me introduce you to the rest of the band."

  Chelsie followed him to the other side of the room.

  "This is Miles, our bassist," Devon said, pointing to the wiry man with a mop of dirty, blonde hair. Then he turned his attention to the beefier bandmate with dark hair and a goatee. "And this is our drummer, Tad."

  The two men smiled and raised their beers, and Chelsie was relieved to find that her assumption had been correct: she had indeed gotten the worst out of the way.

  Devon made her a cocktail at the minibar and handed it to her, his enchanting smile still firmly in place. She stirred it with her straw as a satisfying buzz settled in. Devon wasn't anything like she’d envisioned him to be. He was down to earth, personable, and kind. He wasn't the egotistical womanizer she had assumed all rock stars were.

  Chelsie glanced in Noah’s direction. He was sprawled out on the couch with Julia, his hand running up and down her exposed thigh.

  Well, at least Noah was out there doing his part to feed the stereotype.

  "I can tell him to get lost if you think your friend is uncomfortable."

  Chelsie redirected her gaze toward Devon and shook her head. "Julia can take care of herself.” She paused. “She just prefers when good-looking musicians do it for her."

  Devon chuckled and popped open his beer. He held it up and clicked the bottle against her glass. "Well, here's to being dependent on good-looking musicians."

  Chelsie felt a warm flush seep into the apples of her cheeks, and she ducked her head. Devon's eyes twinkled back at her and a swarm of butterflies invaded her nether regions. She chugged her drink to drown them.

  "Here. Do a shot with me,” Devon offered, handing her a tiny glass of clear liquid.

  "Oh… I’m not much of a drinker." Chelsie was hesitant as she curled her fingers around the glass. "But what the hell.” She tipped her head back and was unable to hide her grimace as the tequila slid down her throat. "Wow, that's terrible."

  Devon laughed as he swallowed down his own shot. He guided Chelsie over to one of the red loveseats and took a seat beside her. "Sorry, I probably shouldn't have started with Patrón. Tequila can be a little intense."

  Chelsie heard him speak, but his words didn't quite register. Devon Sawyer was sitting so close she could feel the heat of his body radiating into her blushing skin. She could feel the rough denim of his jeans pressed up against her bare leg. His presence was jarring to her senses, but in a sinfully delicious sort of way. When he spoke, his sultry voice sent tiny shivers up her spine, prompting the butterflies in her stomach to do the Mambo. "I'm not very good at this." The words were clumsy and unplanned as they escaped Chelsie’s lips. She didn't dare glance in Devon’s direction, so she concentrated on the colorful carpet fibers beneath her feet.

  "Not very good at what?" Devon asked.

  Life in general.

  "You know… this. Us,” Chelsie replied, wagging her finger back and forth between the two of them. “I haven't had a conversation with a man that went beyond 'would you like some ketchup with those fries?' in years. So, I just wanted to warn you that I suck at this."

  Devon didn't answer right away. His sapphire eyes regarded her carefully, and Chelsie was convinced he was deciding on how to send her on her way with as much grace as possible. He surprised her by reaching over to her lap and taking one of her hands in his. "Chelsie, you don't have to warn me about anything. And you don't have to explain yourself," he reassured her. “I will admit that I'm a little surprised. I figured a girl as pretty as yourself had the men lining up."

  Chelsie couldn’t hide her sheepish smile at the compliment. "That's sweet of you to say, but that's more of Julia's scene. I'm kind of the loner in our social circle."

  You’re doing a great job of selling yourself here, Chels.

  "So, you’re not the kind of girl someone might fin
d cozying up to an international superstar in a private V.I.P. lounge, huh?" Devon teased.

  She grinned. “Not exactly.” Chelsie glanced over at him and braved his steely, blue eyes. She felt naked and vulnerable beneath his gaze. “Why… me?” she asked him. She had to know why Devon Sawyer had fixated on her when he could have any woman he wanted.

  “Why not you?” he countered. He didn’t even hesitate. “Maybe there’s just something about you I had to get to know.”

  Chelsie considered the fact that he could have been feeding her a bunch of pretty lines to get into her pants, but the sincerity in his voice had her questioning everything she had ever believed about men. His lines were either superbly well-rehearsed, or they were genuine. And if they were genuine… well, Chelsie Combs was in for a world of trouble.

  Devon raised his hand to her face and ran a finger along her jawline. Chelsie had to remind herself to keep breathing – such an easy thing to do on an ordinary occasion. But with Devon Sawyer melting into her, smelling like leather and tequila, the normally effortless task was becoming increasingly problematic. Chelsie felt compelled to raise her own hand and let her fingers comb through his caramel locks. A bold move. "Devon..." she whispered. It was supposed to be a question, but all it sounded like was, ‘take me now’.

  Devon responded by leaning in and pressing his lips against hers. It was a sensation Chelsie hadn't felt in years. Up until now, she’d had no desire to kiss another man – no, not after Ian. Not after his poisonous kisses that led to a broken heart and broken bones.

  This was different. This was tender, and beautiful, and positively exquisite. The kiss deepened, and Chelsie had to push against his chest to catch her breath.

  Devon gave her a magnetic smile – the kind only lead singers and movies stars could effectively pull off. "You okay?”

  She nodded. Their mouths entangled again, and Chelsie positioned herself on his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. "I don't… usually…" Damn, it was hard keeping her lips off him. "… do this kind of thing."

  Devon pulled back, his hands gripping her thighs. "You don't have to explain yourself, remember? Just live in the moment."

  As they moved in to continue the kiss, a persistent finger began tapping Chelsie on the shoulder. She turned her head to locate the source of their interruption. She shouldn't have been surprised to find a smug Noah standing behind her with merriment dancing in his dark, green eyes.

  "That didn't take long," he bemused. “I had a feeling Water Girl wasn’t the innocent maiden she portrayed.”

  Chelsie climbed off Devon's lap and ran the back of her hand across her mouth, as if to hide what they were doing.

  "Dude, don't be an ass," Devon said, his tone teetering between playful and aggravated.

  Chelsie took a moment to glance around the room. Lisa and Julia were standing against the far wall chatting with Miles, Tad, and the two blondes. She wondered how much of her public display of affection had been witnessed. "You know, it's fine," Chelsie said, standing up and running her fingers through her knotted hair. "I should get going."

  Devon stood up in protest, pulling her to him with his trademark grin. “It’s still early.”

  Chelsie untangled herself from his arms, despite her body screaming at her otherwise. It was difficult to get back in the mood with Noah the Asshole standing there glowering at her. "That's kind of the issue," Chelsie apologized. "It's, like, three in the morning."

  Noah rolled back on the heels of his feet. "Let her go, Dev. Water Girl clearly has better things to do than hang out with the likes of you.”

  Chelsie grit her teeth together. This jerk was really getting under her skin. "My name is Chelsie," she snapped at him.

  Noah shrugged in amusement. "Sure. Whatever you say, Charley."

  She stepped over to him, arms crossed and eyes spitting fire. "My name is Chelsie."

  Noah leaned in closer and Chelsie could feel his hot breath skimming across her face. Her resolve almost broke with his proximity. He was seriously invading her personal space and loving every minute of it. Refusing to back down, Chelsie glared up at him, daring him to say something.

  "You're right. I'm sorry," Noah said, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Charley was last night's conquest. You know… Devon's girls all start bleeding together after a while."

  Chelsie hardly had time to process his implication before Devon grabbed Noah by the shirt collar and pushed him up against the wall.

  "What the fuck is up with you, man?" Devon demanded.

  Chelsie could only watch the scene unfold in silence because Noah's comment had rendered her speechless. His words sucker-punched her right in the gut. Did she have the word ‘insecure’ written across her forehead in bold, red letters?

  What did he have against her in the first place? Why would he want to hurt her?

  Chelsie felt the room closing in on her. She had to get out of there. She stormed over to the exit, signaling Lisa and Julia to follow suit. They exited the lounge just as Tad and Miles ran to break up the fight.

  "What the hell happened in there?" Julia wondered. Her voice was shrill over the Lizzo song pulsating through the DJ’s speakers.

  Chelsie tried to hide the sting of tears in her eyes, as the three girls navigated their way out of the bar. She had been naïve to think she was ‘special’ – maybe Devon was just like Noah, after all.

  Chelsie lifted her chin and forced a smile. "Nothing. Just guys being guys."

  3 Chapter Three

  Chelsie strolled through her cozy apartment, humming to herself as she wandered into the kitchen to make a sandwich. Natural light filtered in through the lace drapes, a welcome contrast to her dismal mood. It had been a long week and Chelsie hadn't had a Saturday to herself in a long time. She loved days where she had all the time in the world to relax and not have to worry about unsatisfied customers or her skeevy boss. Chelsie was content spending the afternoon with her cat, Misty, and reading a good book.

  It had taken Chelsie years to get to where she was now. She had once been highly dependent on her parents, her ex-boyfriend, and her best friend, Riley. Her life wasn't always the picture of serenity and independence people saw now. Chelsie had a lot of skeletons in her closet. But she had pulled herself together and crawled out of that dark hole. She had a good life – a simple life. A small, studio apartment was all she could afford on her waitress salary, but it was enough. She surrounded herself with positive people, a steady job, and absolutely no men. That was important. Chelsie refused to regress back into the damaged and dependent girl she had once been.

  It was probably for the best things had ended the way they had with Devon Sawyer. He would not have been a good influence on her life. Rock stars were known for their excessive drinking, drug habits, and multiple women. Chelsie had enough experience with toxic men. Devon was also a rock god. He wasn't an average, struggling musician playing at coffee houses and music festivals. Devon Sawyer was a household name. He toured the world and enticed women to throw their underwear at him on stage.

  Chelsie had no desire to go down that complicated road.

  So, why did his indigo eyes and kissable lips continue to plague her thoughts, day in and day out?

  Chelsie let out a half-hearted sigh as she dipped her knife into the mayonnaise jar. She was about to pour herself a glass of milk when her cell phone rang. She skipped into the living room and snatched it off the couch. "Hello?"

  "Chelsie?"

  The familiar voice caught her off guard. "Yes. Who's calling, please?"

  "Look, don't hang up, okay? It's Devon. Devon Sawyer, remember?"

  Remember? She had only thought about him every day for the past week. "Sure, of course, I remember. How did you get my number?"

  "I got it from Noah… who got it from Julia. I'm sorry to call you out of the blue like this, but you've been on my mind a lot since the other night."

  Noah. That was a name she'd been looking forward to never hearing again. "Oh?"
/>
  "Yeah. I was hoping we could maybe meet up some time. For coffee, or dinner… anything. I'd like to see you again."

  Chelsie sat down on the couch because her quivering legs were moments away from failing her. "I see."

  There was a pause before he continued. "You don't sound very excited."

  "I am! I – I mean… I’m sorry. It's great to hear from you, Devon." Chelsie had no idea how to take it all in. It was too abrupt; too mind-boggling. She was just getting comfortable with the idea of never speaking to him again.

  "Hey, I'm really sorry about how crazy things got that night," Devon told her. "Noah pulled a total dick move and I apologize on his behalf. He just gets that way sometimes. I'm sure he was only jealous I'd managed to score the prettiest girl in the room."

  A giddy smile crept across Chelsie’s lips, but she forced it away and cleared her throat. She needed to be smart about this. "It's okay, I guess."

  "It was also complete bullshit," Devon added. "I may be a musician, but I'm not the sleazy kind. I'm a pretty decent guy once you get to know me. And I'm hoping you will."

  There he was, being all charming again. "Devon, I…"

  … I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m a hot mess express on wheels.

  "It's just a cup of coffee," he persisted. "I enjoyed talking with you, and I regret the way things went down. I didn't even get to say goodbye."

  Chelsie hesitated. It was just a cup of coffee. No expectations. No commitments. No pressure. "I guess I could do coffee," she finally answered.

  Devon’s sigh of relief was evident. "Awesome. I mean, that's great. Thanks for giving me another chance."

  Chelsie picked at her fingernails. Devon Sawyer was thanking her for giving him another chance? She swallowed. "Are you still in New York?"