Steady (Band Nerd #1)

by Danica Avet

  “Hey there, Katie,” Shaun the Sexy drawls, as the elevator begins the long, long trek down from the fifteenth floor.

  Shaun

  How was it even possible for her to get cuter since the last time I saw her? Because she is. The T-shirt is funny and nerdy, the librarian glasses sexy as fuck. The jeans give me a perfect view of that ass, and I approve of her shoes. Any woman who wears Chucks is good people in my book. Focused on her phone, she hadn’t even looked up when she got on the elevator, her little tongue peeking out as she glared at it as though she wanted to destroy whoever was on the other end.

  I hope it isn’t a husband or boyfriend, because the two of us running into each other again in a city as big as New Orleans is fate throwing us together. It has to be. I let her go on the plane because I figured I wouldn’t see her again. Yet here she is, looking adorably baffled and surprised.

  Slowly she turns to face me, a blush already starting to slide up her throat. “Um, hi,” she says with a shaky smile. “Small world.”

  Fuck yeah it was, and I’ve never been so happy for it before. “Yeah,” I say and cock my head to the side. “So you’re headed out for the business or pleasure side of your trip?”

  I’m a bastard for noticing the way her pulse picks up when I say pleasure. The physical attraction between us is astounding and surprising. After the shit I’ve been going through with Denise, I shouldn’t want anything to do with any woman, yet here I am making a move to insert myself into her evening plans.

  “Um.” She blinks at me from behind those glasses and I want to kiss her. Like just make love to that mouth with its full bottom lip until she lets me do whatever I wanted to her. There’s a loud growl and her cheeks turn fiery red, and she presses a hand to her stomach. “I was just going to get something to eat.”

  Perfect. “Me too,” I tell her, and watch her eyes dart around as though looking for an exit. Too bad she’s stuck on the elevator with me for—I flick a glance over her shoulder—the next ten stories. “I hate eating alone, would you like to join me?”

  She shoves her hands into her back pockets, the move only emphasizing the shape and size of her tits. Unlike most of the women I’ve had dealings with in my professional career, I doubt she does it to entice me. If anything she’s as uncomfortable as a whore in church, and I can practically see her coming up with an excuse to get out of going with me.

  But they don’t call me Steady for nothing, and I stay my course. “Just dinner,” I assure her, putting my hands up innocently. “I was going to The Green Dog, which serves local cuisine, and burgers too, if that’s not your thing.”

  She’s about to reject my invitation. I can feel it. Now, most people assume that because I played football I know shit all about anything but sports. I’m not a genius or anything; can’t claim to be contestant-ready for Jeopardy either, but I did go to college and graduated with a decent GPA. I like to read, listen to music and watch documentaries, so I know some things. And the bewigged “Bach-Man” character on her shirt is a dead giveaway that she was something of a music fan. I think. I’m just going on a hunch when I continue.

  “Plus the Two Beat Brass Band is playing tonight. It’s supposed to be a great show.” Her mouth snaps shut and I almost feel bad about the longing in her eyes. Almost, because I can see her weakening, and I go in for the kill. “And last time I looked there’ll be a jam session afterward with some other local musicians.”

  The elevator continues its slow slide to the lobby while we stare at each other. She’s warring with herself. One part wanting to throw caution to the wind and come with me, the other side unsure about going anywhere with a strange man.

  Knowing there’s only one person she might believe, I pull my phone from my clip and tap the first contact on my favorites list. I hand the phone over to her. “Here, ask her if her son’s a gentleman or not. She’ll tell you the truth.”

  Katie automatically takes the phone from me, but her eyes widen when I tell her who I’ve called. She tries to pass it back to me, shaking her head adamantly. “I can’t do—”

  “Shaun! I thought you were in New Orleans,” my mom’s tinny voice can be heard through the receiver.

  “Answer her,” I whisper, folding my arms against my chest and leaning back in my corner.

  Probably for the best that I did that, because she licks those luscious lips. Focusing on my mom’s confused voice, which I can hear loud and clear because she does not talk softly, I will my hard-on to go away.

  “H-Hello?”

  Mom goes quiet for a second. “Hello, who is this?”

  “Um, I’m Katherine Frost. Your son handed me his phone and told me to ask you if he’s a gentleman or not,” she says shyly, her cheeks turning redder by the second.

  I bite back a laugh at the loud inhalation from the other end of the phone. “Well, he’s a very sweet man; always sends me flowers on his birthday because he says I was the one who did all the hard work.”

  Katie flicks a look at me, a smile playing around her lips. “That’s very sweet,” she agrees. “So I guess I shouldn’t have to worry about him killing me and making a meatsuit out of my body?”

  I straighten and widen my eyes at her in shock. She thought I was a serial killer or something?

  Of course Mom thinks that’s funny. “Lord no, he faints at the sight of blood. Not sure how he managed to play at all when he couldn’t even look at—”

  “Okay,” I say and snatch my phone away from the cute, laughing blonde. “That’s enough of that. Hey, Mom? Thanks a ton. You sure you don’t want to text her some embarrassing baby pictures next?”

  “She sounds cute, Shaun! Who is she? Is she—”

  “Gotta go, I’ll call you later, okay?” I say quickly, because I know Katie can hear her. Maybe calling Mom hadn’t been the best idea, although I can tell Katie’s much more comfortable now. Or maybe that was just because she was still laughing at me.

  “You better call me, Shaun Michael. I love you and I can’t wait to tell your father about this!”

  The elevator slows so I hurriedly give my love and goodbyes before ending the call. My face feels hot. When was the last time I blushed? Probably years ago. But having my mom tell this woman my greatest weakness is embarrassing. That I even had to call my mom to gain her help in asking this woman out to dinner is just as embarrassing.

  But as the doors of the elevator open, Katie says, “Okay, I’ll go to dinner with you.” Which makes it all worthwhile.

  Kate

  What am I doing? I ask myself, as Shaun and I walk through the hotel lobby together. He slows his long-legged stride so I don’t have to run, which I like. It shows he’s considerate. I think. I don’t even know what to believe when it comes to men, or myself, anymore. It’s like I can’t trust myself or what I think and feel. I should tell him I changed my mind and go back to my room, but when I open my mouth to say just that, I stop myself. Mostly because he seems like a good guy.

  I can’t believe he called his mom. I’m reluctantly charmed by it, which is why I agreed to go to dinner with him. She sounded cute and sweet and okay; the fact he sends her flowers on his birthday kind of hit my soft spot. I’d never met Adam’s parents. He claimed they’d passed on a few years before but, after the secret life he led away from me, I doubt that’s true. For all I know his parents have dinner with him and Lisa every Sunday.

  Pushing away the negative thoughts I’m trying to escape, I step outside of the hotel with Shaun at my side. I don’t even know his last name, but that’s okay. We’ll have dinner—going Dutch because I don’t want him paying for me—listen to some local music, which I wanted to do anyway, and I’ll go back to my room to masturbate before falling asleep. Tomorrow I’d wake up ready to take on the world.

  So I’m weak. It’s his fault. He shouldn’t smell so amazing, or look so good in that worn baseball hat, or make me wonder what that beard would feel like on my skin. I may be on a self-imposed hiatus from men, but that doesn’t mean I’m going
to forgo all orgasms. And Shaun is definitely fantasy material.

  “What do you want to do?” he asks, and I jump, a hated blush climbing up my neck.

  I crane my head to stare at him. Had I said that out loud?

  He cocks his head to the side. I’m starting to realize he does that when he’s trying to figure something out, like me. Even with his brown eyes shaded by his hat, I feel he’s trying to peer into my brain to see what I’m thinking about, but I scramble to catch up.

  “Uh, how far is it to The Green Dog?”

  He’s still studying me. I wish, not for the first time, that I had a good poker face, but I don’t. With Irish and English on Mom’s side and Norwegian slash Swedish on Dad’s side, I’m like a neon sign. I can only hope he thinks I’m still flustered from his attention and not thinking about what naughty situations I can dream up to help get me off later tonight.

  His eyes crinkle, but he just jerks his head to the right. “It’s about five blocks that way. Show doesn’t start until eight, so we have about three hours to kill.”

  Did I want to spend that much time with him? I hesitate. I want to explore some of French Quarter before the interview tomorrow and, thanks to Durron, I now have reservations about going out alone. I glance up at Shaun. He’s big. At least a foot taller, if not more, than me, with lumberjack shoulders. I don’t think anyone would mess with him, or me if I was with him.

  At least that’s the rationale I’m going with, as I say, “How about we just stroll? I’ve never been here before and I’d like to see a little of the city.”

  I sort of expect him to reject my idea. My track record with men and dates hasn’t been the best, Adam being a prime example of that. Most of the time if I’m out with a man, it’s where he wants to go. The two relationships I had in college hadn’t exactly been that great either. Jared and Chad had been band nerds like me, but typical men who didn’t want to just kick around the Magnificent Mile or any place that didn’t have something music related.

  Shaun though, says, “Sure, maybe after the show we can catch a ghost tour or something.”

  We start walking down the sidewalk, just meandering really, which is great for me. I’m swiveling my head from one side of the street to the other to look at the storefronts we pass.

  “You’ve been here before then?” I ask, when he points out four cats hanging out in some kind of yarn store. I stop to stare in the window, the cats not paying me any mind as they loll on the floor.

  “Yeah, a few times,” he says, one finger tapping on the window. One of the cats reaches up in an attempt to bat his hand through the glass. “I try to explore a little of the area any time I’m traveling.”

  “Do you travel a lot?”

  He shrugs and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, I used to, for work. That’ll probably change though.” He turns to me and we start walking again. “How about you?”

  “Not really. I’ve always wanted to travel, but never did. This is the farthest from Chicago I’ve been in my entire life.” And that pisses me off. I’ve been invited places, but for the last three years those trips had interfered with Adam time. “I think I’ll start taking little trips now and then though,” I murmur as we come to a flagstone paved square.

  LaSalle isn’t far from New Orleans. If I got the job with Klauss, maybe I could start doing more than work, have affairs with married men, and wait for those same assholes to find time for me. I don’t really see myself hitting the dating scene again anytime soon and, since the majority of my time had been waiting for Adam to text or call or come to see me, I’d probably have plenty opportunity to play tourist in my new surroundings. Maybe.

  If I got the job.

  “What?” Shaun asks. I look up at him in confusion. He gives me a smile that draws my attention to his mouth. “You’re frowning.”

  “Oh.” I smoothed out my expression. “Just thinking about something.”

  He doesn’t say anything for a bit, as we navigate the open area in front of a massive church. The bells are tolling and there’s a crowd of people standing outside, some obviously dressed for the occasion, but there’s also a small group of musicians waiting with them. I’m intrigued enough to slow down and Shaun doesn’t seem to mind.

  We pause to watch as the doors open, expelling a laughing groom and his blushing bride. Everyone cheers, not just the guests. There are tourists and people going about their business, but everyone takes a moment to applaud the newly married couple. Someone starts passing out umbrellas and a ton of handkerchiefs to the wedding party and guests. The bride is handed a white, frilly, parasol type contraption that she twirls with a laugh.

  “What are they doing?” I ask, moving a little closer to watch.

  “It’s a second line,” Shaun says, stepping up with me. “They’re celebrating the wedding and they’ll stroll down the streets.”

  Once everyone seems set, the band starts up with When the Saints Go Marching In. Loud and raucous, the music is infectious, sending a tingle of excitement through my body. Then people start dancing. Like everyone, as though it’s some pre-rehearsed flash mob. It’s the craziest thing I’ve ever seen, but I still find myself bobbing my head along with the music. The band is good. They blare a bit, but that’s part of their charm, I think. It’s so out there, outside of my experience, I want to follow the crowd as they start walking down the street.

  “Come on,” Shaun says, grabbing my hand and towing me as he tags along behind the guests, who’ve started waving their handkerchiefs around.

  “Wait, we weren’t invited.” Although I’m surprised I can say anything at all with his hand engulfing mine. We’re touching. And I like it way too much.

  I dig in my heels, but Shaun doesn’t even seem to notice my puny resistance, since he just keeps going. “The whole point of a second line is for everyone to join in,” he tells me over his shoulder. “See?” He points to some other tourists who’re following the procession, dancing awkwardly, but having fun. “C’mon, Katie, live a little.”

  The look he sends me makes my heart leap and I swear he’s drugging me through osmosis or something because the blood in my veins suddenly heats and slows. His words are innocent and directed at the second line. I know this, yet my body reads it as an invitation to do more than live a little. It wants to live a lot, touch a lot, fuck a lot. Not just with anyone though. With him.

  He tows me forward, close enough that he can wrap his arm around my shoulders. Have I mentioned how good he smells? I want to stick my nose in his neck and just breathe forever. Maybe nibble on his skin… Find out if his beard is as soft as it looks.

  “It’ll be fun and who knows when you’ll get a chance to do it again?”

  Is he still talking about the second line? I don’t even care, because the voice of reason is drowned out by my hormones, which scream, “YES, we must have all the fun with him!”

  And since I’m never going to see him again after tonight—maybe if I get that tattooed somewhere on my body, I’ll remember it—I decide to listen to the estrogen flooding my veins with the need to mount this fine specimen of man.

  “Okay.”

  Shaun

  I can’t remember the last time I’ve had so much fun. Once I got Katie to loosen up, the night only got better. She can’t dance to save her life, which she proved as we joined the second line, and again at The Green Dog when The Two Beat Brass Band took the stage, but she didn’t seem to care. To be honest, neither did I. She was having fun and I was having fun watching her.

  Probably the best part, other than talking with her about everything except for very personal information, was that her hand seemed glued to mine. I’d grabbed hers when I was trying to get her to join the second line and never let go, except when we were eating or she excused herself to go to the bathroom. It was as though I was scared she’d slip away from me, or it just felt natural.

  “That was fun,” she says as we join the crowd leaving the club. She’s weaving a little after the three beers
she’s had, but she doesn’t seem drunk so much as just happy.

  New Orleans never sleeps, or at least it never seems to. I glance at my watch to see it’s after midnight, but the streets are still full of people going to and from Bourbon Street. I wasn’t ready for the night to end, but I didn’t want to share Katie with anyone else. Besides, hanging out with drunk people, flashing tits for beads, isn’t my idea of fun. When I came to New Orleans for a Bowl game, in my second year playing professional football, I’d been right in the thick of things. Now though there’s only one pair of breasts I wanted to see, if I was lucky.

  I hear the clip-clop of hooves on the street and see one of the many carriages that tour the Quarter pass. I’ve never done the carriage ride, never had any reason to. I wasn’t going to take one with my teammates, and Denise had been more into the after-game party scene, so she wouldn’t have gone.

  “Let’s take a carriage ride,” I suggest to Katie, who’s still humming the last song the jam band had played. She has a great voice, she just can’t dance, but it only adds to the total package of cuteness that’s her. “It’ll be a good way to wind down.”

  She adjusts her glasses and peers up at me. Her cheeks are flushed from the warmth in The Green Dog and the alcohol she’d consumed. “Isn’t that expensive?”

  It’s been so long since I had to worry about every dime I spent that I hadn’t even thought about the cost of a carriage ride. I just know I want to go on one with her nestled into my side. I want a lot more than that, if I’m honest with myself. I want to kiss her, touch her, find out if she makes those humming sounds as she’s coming, but I don’t say that out loud.

  I shrug at her question instead and say, “It’s my treat.”

  “I don’t know,” she says slowly, her brow furrowing. “I really should get back to the hotel. I have to leave at nine tomorrow morning.”