Love Notes (Accidental Kisses #3)

by Tammy Andresen

  Love Notes

  Accidental Kisses

  Tammy Andresen

  Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  Christmas Kiss

  Camp Crush

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  He was all wrong… and so right.

  Derek

  I sat in the dressing room with my head leaning back on the couch, my eyes closed, pretending to rest. I wasn’t tired, not even a little despite the fact that I’d barely slept last night. I was always wired for gigs and usually bouncing off the walls.

  Today was different, and I knew everyone in the band sensed it. Even our new guitar player, Drew.

  The same energy was there, the need to move, to amp up before I went on stage. But today, instead of being excited, if I let that energy out, I’d likely yell, or hit, or both.

  Our drummer, Evan, glanced at the brand new song I’d handed him. Something I’d penned today. “Wow, dude, this is sick.” He read through it again. “I mean it’s dark, but I like it.”

  The other guys crowded around to look over his shoulder. The bassist, Jay, gave me his piercing, soul-searching stare. “You and Nicole broke up, I take it.”

  It wasn’t a question. They knew my moods and my history. I’d meet this girl at a show. She’d be smokin’ hot and slightly dangerous in all the right ways. I’d fall madly in love in a matter of days and then we’d burn out in a blaze of glory.

  Usually because dangerous meant crazy.

  Nicole had been no exception. I’d run late picking her up after rehearsal. I’d literally hung with the guys for five minutes before I’d begged off, saying I had a date. When I’d gotten to her apartment she was chucking stuff out the window. My stuff, her stuff, anything she could get her hands on. Apparently she’d thought our date was a half hour earlier and I’d kept her waiting. She screamed at the top of her lungs as stuff splattered across the pavement. What was more, she was convinced I’d met some groupie and cheated on her. All because I was five minutes late. No joke.

  I mean, I had to figure this out. I went for the Nicole-type every time. It was exciting at first, but something had to give. I couldn’t keep going through this. Closing my eyes again, I’d made a decision this afternoon. I had to stop dating.

  At least until I could pick a girl who was more…emotionally stable, possibly even nice, and potentially not dangerous.

  Which would probably be never.

  First, I wasn’t exactly the stable girl’s type. I was a big dude at more than six feet and muscular. Lifting and singing were my two hobbies. I mean I had other shit I liked to do, a few were even meaningful, but those were the ones people noticed. Plus, I had these sharp angles and scruffy beard that made me look a little dangerous too. Which worked perfectly as the lead singer and all around musician of an alternative band, but the look attracted a certain type of girl.

  Which up until now, I had liked.

  I had slightly long dark hair and piercing eyes that made girls look away, a lot. One of my dating markers was when a girl would actually hold my stare. The problem was, like I already said, those girls were often nuts.

  And did I mention the tattoos? I’d used every penny I’d made from the band to pay for ink. I have a full sleeve on one arm. I don’t exactly scream warm and fuzzy.

  Not that I am looking for some run of the mill girl. I’d die of boredom. But I could use a little less crazy. Or go with my new plan—no girl at all. That was probably the smart choice.

  “So,” the new guy, Drew, started drawing out the single word. “I know you guys have met my friend, Alex.”

  Yeah, I’d met him. He was exactly the type boring girls totally dug. All blond hair and blue eyes with that I love everyone smile. Don’t get me wrong, he was fine and his girlfriend was a quiet hottie. Maybe that was the type of girl I should be going for. Then again I’d probably crush her with the weight of my stare alone. “What about him?” I mumbled, not wanting to talk about anything.

  “He’s started in the marketing program at Boston University. Anyway, this chick in one of his classes has done some free stuff for local groups and really helped them gain more exposure. She offered to help out Echo Stream. Do some social media promo for upcoming gigs, along with graphics, and she even has some video art experience.”

  “Help the band?” My teeth clenched and I knew I’d growled out the words. I didn’t want any girls around me now. Especially not some perky go-getter who was majoring in marketing.

  The other guys straightened. Jay cleared his throat. “I think it’s a great idea.”

  I let out another low, guttural noise, but Jay wasn’t intimidated. He knew me too well. He went on like I hadn’t made any noise at all. “We should at least meet her, maybe see some of her stuff.” He glanced toward the door of the dressing room.

  Now I couldn’t hold in my thoughts or my mood. What was a girl like that going to understand about our band? “We don’t need anyone’s help.”

  Jay wrinkled up his face. “I don’t know if you’ve been out there, but there aren’t a ton of people.”

  I waved my hand, finally sitting up. What was wrong with these guys? We were in this for the music. “If we play good music, they’ll come.”

  Evan scoffed. “I’d prefer they come sooner. We’ll get higher paying gigs at better clubs if we start selling out.”

  I frowned. I didn’t want some prissy chick helping us out, especially not today. But it sounded like I’d been overruled. Which stunk. I hated democracy. “Can you show us anything she’s done?”

  Drew made a face. It was somewhere between a wince and the pain of a broken bone. I didn’t like it. Whatever he was about to say it wouldn’t be good. “Well, that’s the thing. She’s done stuff for the BU cheer squad and the hockey team, but they have a totally different vibe. The whole reason she wants to do this is to add to her resume to prove that she can promote a variety of products. We’d be helping her while she was helping us.”

  Even Jay scratched his head on that one and I knew he was hesitating. Good. Let someone else be the bad guy. “I’m not sure about this.”

  Drew nodded. “I don’t want to force something you don’t want.”

  I had to admit, I liked this guy. Finally someone was talking sense. He was going to fit in well with the band.

  “But,” he said and I liked him way less, “she’s doing this for free and if you don’t like her marketing plans for the band, you can say no. You literally have nothing to lose.”

  Well, that was a really good point. I had to be honest, on a normal day, I might have been excited about this idea. Today, however, I just couldn’t face the thought of another girl messing with my life.

  “She’s coming tonight to check you guys out and maybe pitch a few ideas.”

  Tonight? I’d seen several of my favorite vinyls that I’d left at Nicole’s hit the pavement and smash into a thousand pieces. I wanted to do this show and then crawl into bed. Not discuss the future expansion of Echo Stream with someone who didn’t know us at all. Why did it have to be today? “Fine,” I mumbled.

  The other guys nodded with far more enthusiasm than I did when a knock came at the door. The club manager popped open the crumblin
g piece of wood and stuck in his head. “It’s time.”

  Rising, I tried to shake off all the negative junk. I had to forget everything else and put my energy into the stage.

  But it was tougher than I thought it would be as I looked at the dismal crowd that had assembled. More than half of them were our friends. There were maybe ten people in the audience total.

  I saw Drew’s friend, Alex, and his girlfriend, Millie. Next to her was Millie’s roommate. I honestly couldn’t remember her name. She was this bubbly little blonde who was always bouncing around. Rounding out the group had to be the preppiest of preppy girls on the planet. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind this was our marketing guru. Her dark brown hair was tied back into some sort of twisty bun with loose strands at the top. She was wearing a perfectly pressed oxford and pencil skirt. Don’t get me wrong, she filled them out…nicely. But seriously, who wore that to a concert? She was a college student. This wasn’t a job interview.

  It did briefly occur to me that it was a job interview. Kind of. That had to be the girl Drew was talking about and she was here to sell her marketing to the band. If you counted free marketing for a band with no audience an interview.

  I looked away from her and stared at the other three people who had entered that I didn’t know.

  Shaking my head I held up my hand to cue the first song.

  It got easier after that. I lost myself in the music and some other people filtered in. I could see by their intensity that they were digging our music. I started to relax and shake off what had happened with Nicole. I’d get over it. Just like I had gotten over every other chick.

  Then it happened. Miss Preppy Skirt got up from her stool by the bar and walked over to the stage. I hated that she looked good in that skirt. It was all wrong. Sweeping my gaze over her face, I sneered, because, frankly, she was pretty. Really gorgeous, actually. Her pulled-back hair highlighted her high cheekbones and her large dark eyes.

  Her lips by comparison were a soft pink and her skin incredibly creamy, even in the harsh light of the club. Who had skin that color with such dark hair?

  There wasn’t much crowd at the front of the room and so she sauntered up to the stage in her smart little pumps. Then, sin of all sins, she pulled out a camera and started snapping pictures.

  It was weird. The few fans that were into the music stopped paying attention to us and started watching the future Republican of America snap away.

  I gave her my fiercest face. I’d never actually seen it, but I’d watched other people’s reactions to it. They shrunk in fear. But not Miss Preppy Skirt.

  She snapped her camera again, then pulled it away from her face and looked up at me. Her soft doe eyes met mine. I expected her to run away in fear as I tightened my jaw further, piercing her with my gaze. But she didn’t. She stared into my face for what seemed like an eternity. Her look stayed soft, approving, as she drank in my features and then she winked. Yep, she actually winked. Like she wasn’t afraid of me at all like the rest of the preppy world was. Instead she was acting like we had some big secret together. I’d met some crazy chicks in my day but this one? Certifiable.

  Chapter Two

  Melissa

  I looked up at the lead singer of Echo Stream and gave him a wink. Honestly, I was excited because he was hot. Not that I cared on a personal level, he wasn’t my type at all. Though it was hard to deny his appeal. This guy was marketing gold.

  Even if the band had been complete crap—which it wasn’t—I could sell them on his looks alone. Tall, dark, broad, and dangerously handsome, he was every marketing agent’s dream. Add to that broody angst and I could see the dollar signs.

  This would be my best marketing campaign yet. He scowled again and it only made my smile grow wider. Don’t ask me why, but grumpy men made women swoon. And this guy had cornered the market.

  Not that I liked that type. I had my future all mapped out like a good marketing campaign. I’d date, have fun, and then meet a handsome, intelligent Harvard graduate student who was equally driven and looking for a serious relationship. We’d date, marry, have a few kids, and an amazing house in the suburbs with the white picket fence.

  I know girls my age weren’t supposed to dream about the white picket fence, but I had career goals too. I wasn’t even nineteen and I’d launched a few successful campaigns for local organizations. I’d peak in my career early and then be able to freelance.

  I snapped a few photos of the other band members. They were a good-looking bunch, which made my head spin with ideas of how to sell them, then I backed out and took a nice action shot of the entire band.

  I’d already noticed there were no flyers at the door telling fans about their next gig, and no announcement at the start of the show. To me, half the battle was being good and the other half was getting out the word. I went back to my stool to pull out my little notebook, my very own think pad, to write down some ideas I had for them.

  They broke for a small intermission and before I knew it, Tall Dark and Grumpy was headed my way. I mean he jumped off the stage and came right toward me. For a split second it was frightening. He was huge and so intense.

  But then I remembered I was there for work and I hit him with my best smile. I’d been told it was a really good one.

  “Hi,” I chirped before he could say anything. “Great show.”

  He glared at me. I mean really glared. The thing about when he was on stage was that it all seemed part of the show. Like his glares were only meant to add to the heavy beat of the music. Down here, his look was way more intimidating. My smile was slipping, I could feel it. Swallowing down a lump, I put the smile firmly back on my face.

  When he said nothing in response, I started talking again. The guy was making me nervous and I had to force myself to stay seated. My mouth moved instead. “So you’re the lead singer?”

  “Me and Seth.” He barely opened his mouth to mumble out the words as his arms crossed over his massive chest.

  “Seth? Which one is he?” I glanced around him having to lean way out off of my stool to actually see behind his massive chest. It was kind of a relief not to look at him. He was making my insides all jumpy.

  I swear he let out a growl. “He isn’t here tonight. We took this gig at the last minute to help Drew warm up. Perform with us.”

  I nodded, turning back to my notepad. The other members of the band filtered toward us. “When is your next gig that Seth will be participating in?”

  “Why?” The single word was sharp, cutting.

  I blinked. Why? I was marketing the band. I had to meet all of them. “I can’t make a slideshow and not have one member in it.”

  “A slideshow?” His lips sneered over the words. “Seriously? A slideshow?”

  What was wrong with a slideshow? My nervousness was slowly being replaced with irritation. “Yeah. Do you have a track that’s recorded that both you and Seth sing in? Or maybe one that’s the band’s favorite?”

  “Slow. Your. Roll.” He looked me up and down, his sneer growing as his eyes slid down my shirt to my skirt.

  I stood then. Maybe I should be afraid of this hulking guy with his ready-made sneer, but I was mostly irritated by now. I could be personally intimidated, but my work would stand for itself.

  No one around us was talking so everyone heard my next words. “Speed yours up. You’ve got like five people here who are actually listening to you. And by the way, have you done one single thing to let those five people know where you’ll perform next so they can join the other five people who might randomly show up at that club?”

  I heard him suck in his breath. Good. Jerk. But I wasn’t done. “A slideshow set to your music and pictures of your band performing would be great PR. But you don’t even have a simple flyer with performance dates. Every band has a website. I mean every one. Name two bands you compete with for these slots in the clubs. They’ve got one and it has all their upcoming dates on it. And let’s not even start on social media accounts. They’re posting pi
ctures of themselves getting ready backstage, during the performance, the after party. It’s not just for fun. It’s a business decision meant to get fans excited to come pay money to hang out with them.”

  This guy could be as grouchy as he wanted, but I’d done my homework. Echo Stream had no presence. I wasn’t surprised they also had no fans despite being really good.

  “Dude,” one of the other guys said. He spun a drumstick in his hand.

  Drew stepped forward. “Melissa, I see you’ve met Derek.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I would have sworn his name was Oscar. As in the Grouch.”

  The guys chuckled. One of them mumbled something about break-up blues. I didn’t care. What I did care about was taking a band that appeared to have no fan base and turning them into the biggest group on the college music scene.

  “Well Melissa fits you to a T.” He rolled over my name like an insult. I ignored it.

  Grabbing my camera off the bar, I flicked it on and held up the four-inch digital screen for everyone to look at, then I started scrolling through the pictures. They looked good. Dark, intense, close-ups of faces cut to pictures of the entire band playing. I heard the guys mumbling appreciative noises.

  “I’m thinking black and white. It’s more intense. We’ll overlay your music and dates of upcoming gigs. I’ll start a Facebook and Instagram account for you. Do you have business cards?”

  “Business cards?” Derek sounded slightly less irritated but not much. At least he didn’t growl out the words.

  I shook my head and tried not to roll my eyes that he was still giving me attitude. “For club owners to contact you. For fans to follow you, you might want something postcard-sized that you can also put autographs on and have a picture of the full band.”