by Alyson Hale
“Here you go, boys.” Kyri slinks up in front of us and drops our baskets of wings off before heading to the other end of the counter to input something into the register. Since her back is turned, I lean over to Eddie, who’s sitting beside me.
“That girl is mine.”
Eddie chortles. “It’s not me you need to claim her from. It’s Demon.”
“Pass the message down to your arsehole of a brother, then.”
Eddie whispers to Connor, who jerks Damien’s attention away from Kyri’s generous arse and gives him my message. Damien’s cold eyes barrel into mine from down the bar. A self-satisfied smirk carves its way onto my face. I claimed her just in time, and the fact that it bothers him so much pleases me more than it should. Band code dictates that he listen to me. If he tries to take her from me, I can make his life a living hell.
Kyri turns from the register and focuses her attention on me again. Her body is visibly trembling. I like that I have that effect on her.
“So how are the wings?”
I’m suddenly aware I haven’t even touched the food because I’ve been feasting my eyes on her instead. Reaching across Eddie’s plate, I grab a wing and bite down into it, letting the juices and sharp spice mingle in my mouth. The look on my face must have told her what she needed to know, because she flashes a lovely grin at me.
“They’re great, right?” She leans forward and whispers, as if letting me in on a conspiracy, “I snuck one in the back. Don’t tell anyone.”
I cover my mouth to avoid spewing sauce all over her and laugh around my mouthful of chicken. Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me one bit. I already like her spunk. Once I’ve swallowed, I dab my mouth with a napkin and flash her my best grin.
“Naughty girl,” I croon. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”
Nibbling on her plump lower lip, she tries to avoid mirroring my smile, but it doesn’t work. “Okay, can I just say you’re even more gorgeous in person?”
“Same to you,” I reply without thinking.
Confusion clouds her peridot eyes. “What?”
Scrambling into my vast repertoire of cheesy one-liners, I cover up my second blunder of the night.
“I’ve seen you in my dreams, but you’re far more beautiful in the flesh.” With a wink and another cheeky grin, I bite down into my chicken wing again, leaving her to stutter, giggle, and turn away from me, speechless. As soon as she’s facing the other way, I scowl and reprimand myself.
Good one, bloody wanker. You almost gave yourself away again. Shut the fuck up, or you’re going to ruin this night for everyone.
My mobile vibrates in my back pocket. I pull it out and my stomach jumps into my throat.
Rick: Just a little bit longer and I’ll be inside. Sorry, gotta make one more call.
After I set my chicken wing down, I wipe my fingers with a moist towelette and text him back.
Me: Don’t come in here. Kyri works here and she’s serving us dinner and drinks. I’m working my magic on her and if she sees you, it will ruin everything.
It takes him a few minutes to respond. Kyri brings us another round of beers before I get his text back.
Rick: Thanks for the warning, son. That could have been bad. I wanna see her again, but definitely not like this. I’ll just grab some fast food and head back to my trailer. Make sure she gets home safe, okay?
Nodding in relief, I sink against the back of my bar stool.
Me: Will do.
Whirling my whiskey in its mug aimlessly, I glance at my wristwatch.
1:55 a.m.
Just five more minutes until I finally have her all to myself.
My mates went back to their trailers hours ago. I’ve had so much beer and then whiskey once I was sure it wouldn’t make me sick. Throughout the night, Kyri has given me several questioning looks, clearly puzzled as to why I’ve spent the entire night sitting here at the bar, drinking, and watching her. I didn’t mean to stare, but I can’t help myself. She is the perfect Irish bar maiden. It’s like she walked right out of a leprechaun’s wet dream.
My family is about equal parts British and Irish, so I consider myself half-and-half, although my accent and language is decidedly British since I grew up in a borough outside of London. I’ve visited family in Cork, Ireland off and on throughout my life, and it’s one of my favorite places to get away for a while and draw inspiration for lyric writing. Traditional Irish women with fiery red curls and all the curves to boot have always been one of my “fantasy lays.” Kyri’s charming Georgia accent doesn’t hinder my fantasy at all. In fact, it rolls my Southern Belle fantasy right in with it for the ultimate two-for-one experience.
The other waitresses made a valiant effort to get my attention a few hours ago, but now that I’ve seen Kyri Calloway, I can’t think of anyone else. Her curves are going to fit my hard body like a silk comforter. The thought has had my cock straining inside the tight confines of my jeans all night long, making it the most miserable night I’ve had in a long time. I don’t remember the last time I’ve been willing to wait for a girl like this. Instant gratification has become a way of life for me, but I have no doubts I would sit here at this bar for the rest of the year if it meant I got to go home with her.
“Steve told me to tell you, ‘You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here,’” Kyri mutters, her voice heavy with exhaustion. She comes around the side of the counter with a wet white rag and a bucket of sanitizer. While she wipes the bar in front of me, I lift my mug and the coaster so she can clean under it.
“I’m waiting to walk you out to your car,” I inform her.
Her startled gaze snaps up to meet mine. “What?”
“I’m just waiting for you to finish your shift so I can walk you out,” I repeat myself, a smirk curling my lips upward.
She doesn’t respond, just stands there with her full lips parted in a way that makes my blood pound against the walls of my veins for her. I study her face while she holds it still for the first time tonight. Her skin is smooth and clear except for a sprinkling of light freckles on her cheekbones. They’re barely visible, but somehow they make her even more adorable to me.
“Well, I appreciate you waiting for me, but I don’t need protection,” Kyri tells me, pulling back to wipe the inside of the bar. “You’ve been here all night. You should go home and rest.”
“Going all the way home to Great Britain wouldn’t be very restful for me. I do plan to return to my trailer after walking you to your car, though.”
“Oh, right.” She giggles, a hint of a blush creeping up her ivory neck. “Home is pretty far away for you.”
“It is. So do you have time to take a walk with a man who’s far away from home and wants some company?”
She swallows hard at the word company, fear entering her eyes. “What sort of company are we talking about?”
Well, there you go again, Jace. Now instead of just sounding crazy, you also sound like a royal pig.
“Just a ten-minute conversation. You’ve captivated me entirely.”
“Pfft…” Kyri breaks down in incredulous laughter. “You’re funny.” She continues to chuckle as she drops the rag into the sink and pumps soap into her palm, forming lush foam all over her soft, white hands.
“I’m not joking.”
Her hands freeze in front of her. She turns to face me, leaving the water running. “Huh?”
“I happen to think you’re beautiful.” After a moment of awkward silence, I shrug. “Why are you so surprised?”
She lets water drip from her hands onto the tile floor, stunned. “I just…I never expected you to say something like that.” She narrows her eyes, scrutinizing me. “Aren’t rock stars supposed to be crude and unapproachable?”
“Not necessarily. You really think a rock star can’t also be a gentleman?”
“I never even considered the possibility.”
“My parents raised me to respect a lady. No career choice would be enough to drum that out
of me…no pun intended.” I send another winning smile in her direction.
Her giggle is breathy and nervous. “Well, thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now may I walk you out to your car, Miss Calloway?”
She beams at me, causing my heart to turn somersaults in my chest. “Sure. Give me just a minute.”
As soon as she turns around, I let a wicked grin take over my face. I wanted to surprise her, so I acted the total opposite of how she expected me to behave. Because this “gentleman” bit is one hundred percent an act. Once I get her in my bed, there won’t be anything remotely gentle about it.
After she takes care of some last minute things and gets permission to leave from her boss, Kyri joins me at the rear of the pub. I hold the crook of my elbow out to her, and she hesitantly threads her arm through it. The sweet warmth that radiates between our bodies at first touch has me desperate and hungry for more, but I reign in the wild animal inside and keep up the gentle façade. I open the door for her on the way out and return her smile as we walk down the sidewalk together toward the small parking lot where the employees leave their cars.
“So how long are you in town for?” Kyri asks.
“I don’t know. It depends on certain things. We won’t be returning to the UK straightaway, though.”
“Do you have any plans for your time here?”
“We’ll probably go into Atlanta for a few days at some point to scout out the best venues for our American tour next year. Atlanta is where we’ll start, and then we’ll be traveling all across the U.S.”
“That sounds amazing.” Her face brightens underneath the dim glow of the street lights. “I’ve always wanted to see the rest of the country. I’ve only really been in the South my entire life.”
“This is my first time in the U.S. Things are different here for sure. I’ve never seen so many people with their trousers hanging off their arses.”
Kyri bursts into laughter. It’s a gorgeous, melodic sound. My dead heart skips a beat. I didn’t even know it could still do that.
“Yeah, propriety isn’t exactly an American tradition. We do have Southern fried chicken and corn dogs, though. I think it’s an even trade.”
“Ah, fried chicken. I’d eat it every day if I could,” I admit.
“Then you’ll fit right in here.” She winks at me. “I make some killer fried chicken.”
“I’d love to taste it,” I venture, hoping my forwardness won’t scare her off. Her beaming face reassures me. No more words are spoken until we reach the parking lot.
Things haven’t moved this slowly between me and a girl in years. Normally, she’s plastered her body to mine by now. Kyri has some decency and self-respect, and I like it. A lot. She’s sweet, full of sass, and sexy as a siren. Just the way an Irish Southern Belle should be.
Kyri stops on the pavement just beside a car that appears to be ten years old. “Well…this is mine.” She pounds on the driver’s side door with an ironic smirk warping her extremely kissable lips. “Impressive, right?”
“Very,” I say with a chuckle. “I have no car right now, so at least you’re a step above me.”
“Well, thanks for walking me out.” Her face drifts closer to mine. The pull between us becomes more irresistible the closer I get to her.
I thought I could take this slow, but fuck it.
I wrap my hand around the back of her neck, surrendering to her force over me, and pull her into a deep, hard kiss. Kyri stiffens with surprise, but then moans seductively and melts against me. Her soft hands travel up to my hair, sending a lightning pulse through me. She plays with my hair as she presses her lips against mine, a bit timid but just as hungry as I am.
My hands scout her waist as I wrap my arms around the deep cinch of it. It’s the only place she’s small. My tongue enters her mouth, and I feel my hand moving of its own accord toward her arse.
Detaching from her, I have to grit my teeth and pull away. Fuck. If I move too fast, she’ll become another one-night stand, and I’ll have to tell Rick I blew it.
Fighting the impulse to grab her again, rip that flimsy excuse of a shirt off her fantastic tits and make her mine is the most self-control I’ve had to exercise for years, but I manage to step back, tipping my head in her direction like the gentleman my mother actually did train me to be.
“It was brill meeting you, Miss Calloway. Good night.”
Her smile spreads across her face, giving me a glimpse of the incredible beauty I saw in that first picture of her.
“It was amazing to meet you, too.” She unlocks her car with a keyless entry and pulls the door open. “Good night, Jace Hawthorne.”
Slowly, she passes by me and settles into the driver’s seat. The pounding of my heartbeat and the whirling sensation in my head keeps me stupid enough to forget to ask for her number until she’s long gone from the parking lot.
Kyri
Squealing, I let the night play over and over in my mind as I weave through the suburbs back to our modest home. I just met the Jace Hawthorne. Live and in person. In my pub. I got to serve him drinks, walk arm-in-arm, and talk to him as if I was actually a person worth something. Tonight was without a doubt, bar none, the best night of my entire twenty-two years of existence. I can now die happy after meeting my idol and hearing him call me beautiful.
This night was so perfect I’m afraid I’ll wake up in the morning and realize it was nothing but a vivid dream.
I can still feel the burn of his warmth where it seared into my arm. There’s a real possibility I may never wash this arm again. I’m so proud of myself for keeping my cool around him and not freaking out too much. On the inside, I wanted to maul him and shriek—
“I love you, Jace Hawthorne! Marry me and put your babies in me!”
Just like a crazed fan girl. But on the outside, I was like—
“Hey, you’re cool. Wanna try my fried chicken?”
Nailed it. And now he wants to see me again and he does, in fact, want to try my cooking. I feel like some kind of sex symbol right now. A beacon of fertility to all the shy wallflowers here in Covington.
There is hope for small-town girls with wide hips and a nerdy interest in writing about fake people for a living. Now that I know the bullshit I write can actually become a reality, I’m considering retiring my writing quill for good. My book boyfriends probably won’t let that happen, but if nothing else, this is killer inspiration. Who is now a curvy goddess who can bring brooding, hunky rock stars to their knees?
Me. That’s who.
As I pull into the driveway, I realize I’m getting massively carried away with my inner celebration. Jace Hawthorne was probably just trying to find a girl to spend the night with. More than likely, I’ll never see him again. I probably turned him off by not trying to have sex with him. He’s used to girls falling all over him at the bat of an eyelid.
Regardless, I just know Mom is going to flip the fuck out when she hears my good news. She’s really more like a best friend to me than a mother. We tell each other everything, including stuff that has to do with guys. She doesn’t mind hearing about my love interests as long as I don’t mention anything remotely sexual. If I accidentally slip, she’ll cover her ears, scrunch her eyes shut, and sing in a monotone voice over me just like a ten-year-old. I don’t blame her for not wanting to hear about sexual stuff from me, though I do think the childish humming is a little over-the-top.
As soon as I get inside the house, I hear Mom’s favorite show, Project Runway playing in the living room. Tearing off my shoes, I rush in to join her on the couch. We both love watching Heidi and the other designers rip the newbies a new one.
Mom wraps an arm around me and kisses the top of my head, snuggling into me on the couch. She sniffs, then clears her throat. “What is that smell?”
“Oh…it’s probably just the scent of the incredibly sexy man who kissed me before I left work tonight.” I grin as she sits up rod-straight and gasps.
“Oh my God!” We turn
to each other, and I can’t help but giggle as she bounces up and down like a teenager.
My mom is so cool.
“What happened? Who was it?”
“You’ll never guess.” I grin, taunting her.
“Come on! Tell me!”
“You sure you’re ready to hear this?”
Her smile fades. “I think so?”
Leaning forward, I’m not sure why, but I whisper. “Jace. Freakin’. Hawthorne.”
Mom stares at me with a poker face for only a moment before bursting into teary-eyed laughter. “What?” Still laughing, she holds her stomach, throwing her head back. This goes on for a long time while I just sit in silence, feeling my cheeks turn red.
Is that really so ridiculous? Come to think of it, parts of tonight didn’t feel real. Maybe I just made all this up in my head. Maybe that kiss out by my car in the moonlight didn’t even happen.
But no, she smelled his musky cologne on me and maybe some of the alcohol that was on his breath on my mouth. It has to be real.
Wiping her eyes, Mom calms down, out of breath. “Whew, you really got me there. Okay, so who was it really? Was it that boy you’ve had a crush on since high school…what was his name…Travis?”
“No, Mom.” I grasp her arm, looking into her eyes which look so much like mine, it’s uncanny. “It actually was Jace. Filthy Bangers showed up at the pub tonight out of nowhere, and well…he took a liking to me, for some reason.”
Mom levels her gaze with mine. Her smile fades completely. “You’re joking.”
“I’m completely serious.” I pull my phone out of my pocket, using my thumb to unlock it. “Here, see for yourself.” I show her a picture of the band I managed to snap while they weren’t looking. Jace looks like a fallen angel in that picture. I’m going to keep it forever.
