His Whiskey Sour: A Rock Star Romance (The Cocktail Girls)

by Kim Loraine

  I want to give him the chance to explain, to tell me the truth. "Is there anything about your life you haven't told me? Anything important?"

  He stares at me, his expression going hard. "No. Nothing."

  That's it. I'm done. "I really believed you when you said you'd never lie. God, I was an idiot."

  I slam my door and fight the sob building in my chest. Without a second thought, I text Summer my location and get started packing. I pull on some clothes and get everything squared away in record time, seeing Easton's shadow under my door the whole time. He knocks on the door, calls my name, begs me to talk, but I'm not falling for it. I'm not falling for him. Instead of taking the front, I leave through my sliding glass door. Easily opening the gate and walking away before he can even realize I'm gone.

  Maybe it's an overreaction, but I've been lied to and screwed over before. I won't let it happen again.

  It takes me close to ten minutes to get to the outer gates of this community and the whole time I'm worried Easton will come find me. He doesn't, not until I see Summer's car pull up. Then Easton speeds toward me, determined and desperate.

  "Ireland, please."

  "Save it, Easton. Keep your money, I hope you write your album."

  He frowns and steps out of his car, but I'm already in Summer's car, heading back to my real life. Chest tight with tears, I hold it in, not wanting to cry in front of my cousin. But when she turns her gaze on me, I lose it. Fat teardrops run down my cheeks as the loss hits me full force.

  "I'm sorry, hon," she says.

  "I was stupid. I shouldn't have let myself start feeling things for him."

  "You started feeling things the moment you saw him."

  I sniff and take a shuddering breath. "I did."

  "Do you love him?"

  Love him? God, do I? "I don't know. How can I love someone who would say his kid wasn't important?"

  "Maybe there's more to the story."

  "The picture was clear, Summer. He was there, in the delivery room, bracelet on his wrist, holding that kid. I normally wouldn't believe a story like that, but it was obvious."

  "God, I'm just... I wish this turned out different for you."

  "Me too."

  9

  Easton

  I don't know what the fuck I did, but Ireland won't talk to me. I've spent the last two days parked on the stool in the bar, waiting for her. She's avoiding me. I'm not writing, I'm not rehearsing. I'm just waiting.

  "Can't you take a hint?" Summer, the blonde I've seen working with Ireland, stands in front of me. Pity mixed with anger on her face. "She's done with you."

  "I need to see her."

  "Why? Because she's your muse?"

  "Because I'm fucking in love with her."

  Her expression changes to pure pity. "Does she know that?"

  "I haven't had a chance to tell her. She won't talk to me."

  "Listen, Easton, Ireland's not one to trust people easily. Maybe you should start with being honest."

  "I have been."

  "Then why didn't you tell her about your son? She had to find out in an article online."

  My heart stops beating for a moment, I can't catch my breath as Ireland's question, Is there anything about your life you haven't told me, replays in my mind. "I don't have a son."

  She grabs her phone and scrolls until her eyes light up. "Not according to this. That photo looks an awful lot like a new dad in the delivery room."

  I stare at the photo and I want to scream in frustration. "That is me. And yeah, I was in the delivery room because my sister's husband had just died and I was the only one there with her when she went into labor. Goddamn asshole tabloids."

  "Oh, no. Really?" she asks.

  "Yeah, really. That's my nephew, Noel. And you know what, he is like a son to me. I'm all he has and it kills me that I can't see him as much as I'd like."

  Her expression softens and she puts a hand on my arm. "You're really in love with Ireland?"

  "Yes, I really am. If I had the chance, I'd take her to the nearest chapel and marry her right now."

  Her smile is so wide I could probably count her teeth if I wanted. "I'm suddenly not feeling very well. Gosh, I think I need to call someone to take over for me." She gives a dramatic fake cough. "Do you care if your bride is wearing black?"

  My heart flips. "She could be wearing flip-flops and yoga pants for all I care. I just want her to be mine."

  "Wait here." She flounces off to the back room and I sit up a little straighter.

  Fifteen minutes later I see her. Ireland stands in the Employees Only door staring at me. She's heartbreakingly beautiful with her dark hair pinned back, away from her face but still cascading in long waves. Her lips are deep red, eyes shining and haunted. She tries to turn on her heels and I catch sight of the back of her dress. It's the same dress she'd been wearing when we met. The woman is fucking gorgeous.

  "Ireland, wait," I call and Summer stops her from retreating.

  She gives Summer a glare that might wither a weaker person, but her cousin knows how to handle her. "Give him a chance," Summer says.

  The love of my life stalks toward me, arms crossed over her chest, eyes blazing. "What do you want?"

  My hands are shaking as I force the words to my mouth. "I want to marry you."

  "What?" she laughs. "You can't be serious. I can't marry someone who won't tell me the truth about who he is."

  "You know everything. That baby you saw in the article, it's my nephew.”

  She gives me a dubious glance. “You were in the delivery room? I saw the hospital bracelet. They don’t give those out to visitors.”

  Swallowing hard, I wait a beat before launching into my story. “Paisley’s husband died not long before she went into labor. She didn’t have anyone for support. Just me. So, yeah, I was in the delivery room. I cut the cord, held him while she got some rest, and I’ll always fucking be there for him.”

  Her blue eyes widen before her expression softens. “What’s his name?”

  “Noel and he's seven. I love him like a son.” When she steps closer I know she believes me and the tightness in my chest eases a fraction. “You can meet him at the concert if you want. In fact, I'd love it."

  "Really?" Her voice is soft and filled with hope.

  "I love you, Ireland. And if you love me, which I think you do, say the word and I'll take you and make you my wife right now."

  This woman who was fire and sass when we first met is staring at me in utter disbelief. "You love me?"

  "I do. I should've told you the other night when I realized it, but I was scared. I know you've been hurt before, but I'll do everything in my power to protect your beautiful heart."

  "I...I love you too, Easton," she whispers and my heart nearly explodes.

  I wrap her in my arms and pull her close, kissing her deeply in front of all the patrons at the bar. Camera shutters click and I know this will be splashed all over social media before my manager can put out a press release, but I don't give a damn. I've got the woman I love right here with me and she's going to be mine... forever.

  Epilogue

  Ireland

  I'm standing backstage, watching Easton Harrison, my new husband, perform his last song of the night. The guys in his band have already left the stage, leaving only Easton with his guitar. Paisley, his sister, and her son Noel stand next to me, both of them smiling on adoringly at Easton. He's been fantastic, taking an audience of thousands and making it feel like an intimate group. I'm in awe of him.

  "I know you've probably already seen her on social media, the woman who stole my heart when she stole my drink, but I wanted you to be the first to meet her." His voice floats over me and it takes a second for his words to register. When he looks at me in the wings, my stomach flutters. "Come on out here, baby."

  Shit, he's talking to me. I run my fingers through my hair and walk onto the stage, the bright spotlight blinding me momentarily. "What are you doing?" I whisper in his ear
when he leans in to kiss me.

  A stagehand brings out a stool and Easton motions for me to sit. "I'd like to introduce you to Ireland, my wife."

  The crowd goes insane, cheering and yelling so loud my ears hurt.

  Then Easton starts playing his guitar, his fingers creating a delicate and intricate melody on the strings. "This is for you, baby. I love you." Then he turns his focus to the crowd and says, "Anyone want to hear a new song?"

  Again they scream for him, and pride wells in my chest. This man is so much more than I gave him credit for. His dark eyes find mine and he winks, he never stops looking at me as he says, "This one's called, ‘Whiskey Sour.’"

  Then he starts singing.

  Fire in her eyes, candy on her lips.

  She's a whiskey sour,

  And I'm ready for a sip...

  God, I love this man. I can't wait for our honeymoon to start tonight. He sings to me and I forget we're on a stage, that the world is watching. All I see is him. He's my forever, the one I never thought I'd find.

  I used to think I couldn't get over my past, that I was done with men. I was ashamed that I ran away to Vegas. But now I know I wouldn't do it different because I met the love of my life at The Little Black Dress and I'm never letting him go.

  <<<<>>>>

  Meet the rest of the Cocktail Girls

  His Old Fashioned - Frankie Love

  His Mimosa - Jamie Schlosser

  His Irish Coffee - Jessica Lake

  His Whiskey Sour - Kim Loraine

  His Champagne - Dori Lavelle

  His Manhattan - Tracy Lorraine

  His Blushing Bride - Emilia Beaumont

  His Perfect Martini - Angel Devlin

  His Long Island Iced Tea - Roxy Sinclaire

  His Hurricane - Alexis Adaire

  His Sloe Screw - Alexandria Hunt

  His Vegas Bomb - Derek Masters

  His Redheaded Slut - Vivian Ward

  His Gin and Juice - Alexx Andria

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  About the Author

  Kim Loraine was raised a Navy brat but spent most of her life growing up in the beautiful Pacific Northwest. A proper Washingtonian, she's addicted to coffee, doesn't let a little rain ruin her day, and thinks the sun is a gift from God. When not chasing her three little minions around, Kim spends her time writing, reading, and binge watching Doctor Who.

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  Also by Kim Loraine

  Books by Kim Loraine

  Paranormal Romance

  The Siren Coven

  Eternal Desire

  The Fallen Angel Trilogy

  Waking the Watcher (Download FREE)

  Denying the Watcher

  Releasing the Watcher

  Contemporary Romance

  The Golden Beach Series

  Restoration

  Renovation

  Foundation

  Resonance

  Redemption

  Resolution

  Devotion

  Waking the Watcher (The Fallen Angel Trilogy #1)

  by Kim Loraine

  Enjoy this sample of my steamy paranormal romance, Waking the Watcher. If you like dirty talking Irish vampires, fallen angels, and romance that will sweep you off your feet, this book is for you!

  If PNR isn’t your style, check out my Golden Beach series for sexy firefighters in a small town!

  Waking the Watcher

  Chapter One

  Galen

  The darkness covers me like a cloak, keeping me out of sight and hidden from view. I need to hunt, need to feed, the urge so strong, my fangs descend before I’ve even zeroed in on my prey. In the almost one hundred years of my existence as a vampire, I’ve never been this filled with hunger. I watch the crowded dance floor as bodies writhe and sway. Sweaty skin, flushed cheeks, all ripe for the picking. Try as I might, I can’t find the one I need tonight. It’s never easy, choosing the girl I’m going to kill, but I always find her.

  Tonight the club is filled with the same women I always see. Desperate for love, attention, and validation that they’re not too old to be there. Usually this means plenty of easy targets. I could have any of them up against the wall, my teeth in their necks. I like to pretend there’s more coming. Make them think I’m going to fuck them before I feed. I suppose I do, sort of. I send them off into oblivion in a rush of pleasure more powerful than any orgasm they’ve ever experienced. I just can’t do it with my cock.

  I used to miss it, the feeling of blood filling my dick, the tightening in my balls right before I came. Maybe I still do, in a way, but usually it’s eclipsed by another sort of lust.

  A busty redhead catches my eye, her lush, pouty lips the sort of thing I’d have gone for when I was a horny lad spending my nights at the pub. She grins and curls a finger, beckoning, and I head in her direction. She’s just the kind of woman I like to take. She’d give me a wild ride, and I’d leave her drained in the alley. As I move across the floor toward her, the smile she sends me tells me she’s been waiting for me to notice her.

  “It took you long enough, handsome,” she purrs in my ear.

  I don’t smile at her teasing. All I want is to feed, but something is missing in this woman. She doesn’t feel right. I could feed off her and be done with it, but I know she won’t fully sate my thirst. Her hand runs up my chest and into the hair at the back of my neck.

  “God, you’re hot. Want to get out of here?” she asks, pressing her breasts firmly into my chest.

  I barely hear her, though, as my heart gives an alarming stutter. I usually don’t feel its slow pulse. It thuds again—hard. What the hell? Turning my head, I see her. She’s not a ravishing beauty by any means, but there’s something innately sensual about her as she stands with her back pressed to the bar, talking to a friend, her long, dark hair falling over one shoulder. Wide blue eyes meet mine, and I’m instantly hard. What is happening to me? I remove the redhead’s hand from my neck and, without a word, stalk my way across the dance floor. I have to be with this woman. She’s the one I need to feed from tonight. The one I need to do so many other things to as well. So many things I haven’t been able to do for a hundred years.

  Her brows rise when I reach her, and I don’t blame her for being startled. I’m standing inches away from her. I’m much too close for most people’s comfort, but I need to drink her in. To be surrounded by the heat radiating from her body. My dick twitches as I lean even closer and breathe in her scent. What is she doing to me?

  “Come with me,” I demand, hitting her with the full force of my gaze.

  She laughs softly and blinks up at me. “Does that work on anyone? Really?”

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I’ve never had to do more than that. This is both frustrating and curious. Typically, I lay the Dracula hypnosis on them, and they do what I want.

  “Usually every time,” I admit.

  Her hand brushes mine, and we both take in sharp breaths at the tingle that starts to build where our skin touches.

  “I’m Reese,” she says.

  “Galen,” I offer. I don’t know why I told her my real name. I usually go with something overtly masculine like Trent or Dirk. Galen betrays my deep Irish roots. I’ve always thought it made me sound soft.

  “Galen.” She tries my name out as if checking to see how it feels on her tongue.

  I have to bite back a moan as an image of her tongue wrapped aro
und my cock floods my mind. I’m painfully hard. If I’m not buried balls-deep in this woman in the next ten minutes, I might explode.

  “Are you here to find someone to fuck or marry?” I ask. Tactful? No. But I need to get to business, right now.

  Her mouth falls open into a little “O” of surprise, and I roll my eyes. She’s oblivious to the fact that she’s killing me.

  “Look, I’m serious. I’m not looking for more than someone to share an amazing night with. I want that someone to be you. Come with me, Reese. I’ll show you more pleasure than you could ever dream of.”

  She swallows and motions for the bartender to fill her drink, tossing it back as soon as the glass hits the bar.

  “Promise?” she asks.

  I feel a little guilty, promising her pleasure while planning to end her life. But then she accidentally brushes her hip against my crotch, and I know I have to take her. There’s something special about Reese, and I’m not going to risk missing out on that just because I have to kill her.

  It takes everything I have not to press Reese into the alley and thrust myself inside her. A deep ache settles in my balls as they tighten and my shaft hardens even more, as if that’s possible. We walk in tense silence, my hand on the small of her back.

  “Where are we going?” she asks, her words a soft, husky melody breaking through the quiet night.

  “My driver is around the corner. I assume you don’t have a problem coming back to my place?”

  She straightens her shoulders, stopping us in the middle of the sidewalk, and places herself directly in my path. “No. No problem.”