by Jaye Ripley
“Crazy,” all four of my band members say at the same time. They all crack up laughing. I flip them the bird.
We stop what we’re doing and stand around, looking at the contents of our lives and our passion loaded in the back of the trucks. A heavy silence falls over us. Pretty soon, the life we know will change. It’s funny how when you get exactly what you’ve been hoping and praying for, it isn’t all butterflies and bunnies.
“Poetic.” Levi breaks the stillness.
“What?” asks EJ.
“Us. Heading to our last local gig as a local band like we did the first time we played for money. Maybe it’ll remind us to keep things humble even when we’re riding in tour buses.” Levi shrugs.
For such a quiet guy, when he chooses to speak, his words pack one hell of a punch. We all nod. Mac sniffs.
“I knew it,” EJ snorts, pointing at Mac. “I knew our sensitive musician would be the first to cry at something so sentimental. Just like I know for sure that Hunter’s distracted by a girl.”
Mac walks over to EJ, makes a circle with his finger and thumb, and punches the hell out of EJ’s arm when our lead guitarist looks. Like he does every time. He may be a genius with all things guitar, but he’s a downright dumbass when it comes to playing Asshole.
Shaking my head, I walk toward my truck. “All right, jokers. You guys go on ahead to the R&R and start setting up. Talk to Sean behind the bar if you need anything. Devin’s gonna run the soundboard, Mac, so you’ll need to check in with him. I need to drop by my parents’ house and grab one more thing. I’ll meet you at the club shortly.”
“See. Already acting like a diva. Too good to help us lowly backups with doing all the prep work? Would you like only pink and white M&M’s waiting for you in your dressing room, Mr. Ford?” EJ high-fives Hart while Levi rolls his eyes and gets in the driver seat of one of the trucks.
Mac’s brow furrows. “What do you have to get at your parents?”
I lower my voice, not because I don’t want the others to hear, but out of respect. “My dad’s guitar. I’m gonna tell him that I want to use it to play ‘Tears and Fears’, which I probably will, but I also want to…I mean, I don’t know if he will, but I hope to ask him to play with us just once tonight.”
Mac’s eyes open wide. He yells at EJ to hold onto his horses as he keeps looking at me. Out of the entire band, Mac’s the one that always gets me. Knows me inside out. Hell, my mom practically adopted him when she moved him into our home his senior year of high school after both his parents died in a car accident.
“Wow. That’s huge. And a good idea. You want me to come with you?”
And that right there’s a major reason why I love him. He’s always got my back. “No. I’m good. Besides, they’ll need you to referee while setting up.”
He gives me a nod, and then surprises me by pulling me into a strong hug.
“Oh for the love of…would you two girls either get a room or get a move on?” groans EJ.
We both yell obscenities at our mouthy friend, who rudely starts the engine and revs it to make his point.
I open the door to my Ford F-150 to hop in, but Mac’s voice stops me. “What?”
He chuckles at me. “I said, don’t think for one second that I don’t know EJ’s right. It’s a girl, not a song that’s actually distracting you. Figure your shit out so we can bring down the house tonight, okay?”
I give him a thumbs-up and a smile, but by the time my ass sits in the driver’s seat, I’m already hatching a plan to figure out a way to have everything. Sing my heart out. Thank those who’ve supported us from the beginning. Bring down the house. Get the girl.
5
Mel
The energy of the club buzzes, and all of us working the floors and behind the bar know it’s gonna be one hell of a night. Once we opened the doors to the “Rodeo” side of the R&R, people pour in and pack the place. The A/C unit has to be working overtime in order to keep the room temperature low enough, and for once I’m glad I’m wearing a leather skirt instead of pants.
All of the tables fill up with too many people dying to grab a seat to enjoy the show. The bachelorette party takes up the two tables we roped off. They have various pieces on them that blink annoying bright lights, and the bride-to-be wears a tacky veil. By the sounds of them, they’re already well into their drinks. Good thing we stuck them in Tamsin’s section.
From a side door, all of the band’s friends and family walk in together as one large unit. I greet them with a smile and marvel at their bright and excited faces. And their numbers. Geez, there’s a lot of them here tonight. If I weren’t such a badass, the size of the group might intimidate me. That kind of support is a foreign concept to me.
Before it all overwhelms me and I beg Sean to let someone else handle the section, a warm hand caresses my arm.
“Don’t let them scare you,” someone whispers in my ear.
My body knows damn well who it is before I turn to take him all in. He’s wearing a simple black T-shirt, but there’s nothing simple about how it’s tight enough so I can barely see the outlines of his muscles underneath. His jeans that barely contain what he has to offer are held up by a large metal belt buckle. And his cowboy boots fare much better on his feet than the ones I wear on mine.
By the time my eyes meet his, I’m well aware that he approves of what’s standing in front of him as well. He tugs on me to follow him into a darkened area by the stage where we can’t be seen.
“You think I’m afraid?” What should have come out as tough comes out a bit squeaky.
He runs a finger down my neck. “I think I can read your body language fine. Relax. None of them will bite you. Now, just so you know, I can’t necessarily make the same promise.” He grins.
“Damn, you’re cocky. You’d think you’re the lead singer of a band or something. What, you think you’re going to give me a command and I’ll come running?” While my body hums with pleasure, I’ll be damned if he thinks he can have me just like that.
The same finger that stroked my neck travels a path across the top of my cleavage. “I absolutely expect that when I tell you to, you’ll come.”
Well, shit damn. I think my panties just ripped themselves off of me.
He leans in close enough for a kiss. My eyes flit between his eyes that I can barely see in the shadows and his kissable lips. My breath comes hot and fast, and I lick my lips in anticipation. Hunter smells like pure male, and it drives me to my brink.
The gap between us closes those few crucial centimeters, and my eyes close, waiting for his touch of lips on mine. Instead, he bypasses my mouth, his stubble grazing my cheek.
His breathy whisper tickles my ear and neck. “As far as cocky. Well, you got a good look before, but I think you know that I come by it naturally.” He grabs my ass and pulls me into his body, grinding his massive erection against me. “It’s gonna be hell up there for me watching you take care of my family, wearing what you’re wearing, and knowing that other guys will be wanting what’s mine all night.”
I scoff. “As if all of the women in there wouldn’t drop their panties for you.” My smartass response comes out laced with a little more jealousy than it should have.
All sense of self and control gets lost when I’m around him. Warning flags fly in my head. As good as I think we’d be together, no way can he simply claim me. I push against him.
He doesn’t budge. Instead, he wraps his other hand around me and pulls me in tighter. “They can do whatever they please. The only woman for me is you. So stop fighting, and give in. I promise you won’t regret it.”
I lean my head back to check the sincerity in his eyes. It’s too dark to really tell. No one should make promises that I’ll end up breaking. Regret defines my life. It surrounds every part of me. Men are simply something I use to free me from its nasty claws once in a while.
Before I can tell him that whatever either one of us hoped might happen tonight won’t work, he puts a finger over my
mouth. “Don’t say no yet. Take care of our families. Enjoy the show. And we’ll talk later.” He kisses me on the cheek and lets me go, turning to head backstage.
The world’s off balance as I return to the floor. I can’t tell which way is up. Do I want the man? Or do I want to protect myself? There’s absolutely no time to ponder either question as I kick my own ass in gear to get to work.
By 9pm, this entire side of the club’s packed out. Shane must be all by his lonesome behind the bar on the rock side of things, missing me. Everyone in the VIP section has food and drinks, and with every ticking minute it becomes more of a pleasure than a job to take care of them. When the lead guitarist’s grandmother asks if there’s any way she can get an Old Fashioned, I convince Sean to let me behind the bar to make it for her using top shelf bourbon.
When she takes it from me, she takes a sip before motioning for me to come close enough to hear her. “That’s no house bourbon in there.”
I laugh. “No, ma’am. Made it myself just for you.”
“Well, hot damn. Pretty and talented. You know, I used to mix drinks myself back in the day. You’ve got a nice touch.” She takes another sip.
“You want me to keep them coming?”
She shakes her head. “Oh, no thank you. I only wanted one to help celebrate our boys’ night. They’ve all turned out to be nice young men. All except my grandson. He’s a handful. Lives up to the family name. Like father, like son.”
She thanks me again, and I give her a quick smile before attending other family members. A commotion at the opposite side of the stage cues me to hustle and get as many orders filled before the band hits the stage. I don’t really want to shake my almost-bare boobs in Nana’s face just to lean in and hear her or give one of the band member’s teenage cousins anything more to add to his spank bank.
Devin turns down the house music. The crowd starts to holler at the first sign of the show starting. He says in his best announcer voice, “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Rock & Rodeo, the best country and rock bar on the East Coast. You’ve picked a great night to tie one on with us here at the R&R. Is everybody ready for what we have in store for you?”
The volume of the room raises a couple more notches. The women in the bachelorette party abandon their tables and push their way closer to the stage. Since everyone’s focused on the start of the show, I take a short moment to stand to the side, watching the family members clap with excitement. Pride pours out of each of them as they take in the atmosphere of the entire place.
Devin continues. “Put your hands together for the manager and owner of the R&R, Trey Walker.”
Everyone claps, but the women in the bachelorette party look at each other with less enthusiasm until they spot Trey walking out. He looks like a fitness model poured into a pair of jeans with a T-shirt tight enough to show off the muscles underneath emblazoned with the R&R logo. As each of the girls’ mouths drop, they scream with more enthusiasm at his hotness.
Trey, who never shows his face and prefers to run things from behind the scenes, lifts up his hand to quiet the room. “Thank you all for coming out tonight. Five years ago, I met this scrawny college kid who swore up and down that he could sing and his band could play, and would I be willing to give them a shot to play at the original R&R.”
From the side of the stage in plain view, Hunter shoots Trey his middle finger. Trey motions for him to come out and join him. As Hunter strolls out, all of the females in the crowd make so much noise I swear my eardrums will burst. But if I weren’t working, I might be screaming my throat hoarse, too. Damn, if a cowboy hat on Hunter’s head doesn’t make him even hotter.
“He’s still scrawny,” jokes Trey, whose larger build manages to make Hunter look smaller, “but he’s a true brother. And I couldn’t be prouder that he and the rest of the boys of Tailgate Down are heading off to take the next step in their careers. Here’s hoping that they won’t forget us little folks on the way up.”
The two men hug it out before Trey introduces the band properly, and the entire room explodes with noise and excitement as Tailgate Down starts their first song, “Playin’ With Fire.”
All of the family members stand up as if they can’t resist the emotional charge that electrifies the room with the hard beat and guitar. I busy myself with clearing glasses and plates as they watch the band, singing along under my breath and unwilling to watch the man singing on stage for fear of what it might do to me.
Hunter and the band have the entire room mesmerized by their charisma, and it’s hard not getting sucked into it all. They segue straight into “Save a Horse (Ride A Cowboy),” and in the first round of the chorus, Hunter has the crowd singing with him. He takes command with ease, totally in control. And it’s So. Damn. Sexy.
About three songs in, Hunter has the entire crowd wrapped around his vocals. When he stops singing and holds the mic out for the crowd to fill in, everyone sings so loud that he eventually stops singing all together and enjoys the crowd and the moment, picking the song back up at the bridge. Even though the heat from the packed house makes me sweat, he makes me hotter.
His incredible voice, perfect guitar riffs, and the way his biceps flex as he plays distract me. When he attacks the mic with the lyrics, it makes me want to touch myself. Nothing can get me wetter than a man who can sing his ass off. Of course, the other hundred or more women in the place feel the exact same way.
During songs, Hunter glances over at the VIP section. Accepting that he wants to make sure the family members are well taken care of, it doesn’t faze me until I check him out during one of my favorite original songs.
As Hunter sings the words about getting to know a girl with all of the sexual undertones throughout the lyrics, he gazes right at me. His eyes dare me to say no to him. Since a stage stands between us, I see no harm in playing, so I mouth the words back to him.
He jumps down from the stage, right beside the VIP section, and walks toward me—still singing. Before he can get to me, a gaggle of girls mobs him, and he raises an eyebrow at me before he gives up and plays directly to them. It takes one of the club bouncers to come pry their hands away to let him get back on stage. As I shake my head and laugh to myself, he shrugs at me and continues doing his thing.
Hunter could have any woman in the place, and probably a few of the men. While I’m confident in my own game, he’s an up and comer about to break into the big time of country music. I need to get my head on straight and concentrate on keeping my job rather than getting into the lead singer’s pants.
Hunter talks to the crowd after he finishes the song as he wipes off his face. “You guys are great. We’re gonna take five so that you can refresh your drinks, and then we’ll come back out and keep the party going. Sound good?”
He’s smart, making the customers buy more drinks and putting more money in the club’s pocket and back into their own. Chalk another point for the man. Hope he and the rest of the band find the drinks they ordered that I set up for them.
One of the women in my section waves for me to come over, and I rush to take her order.
“What can I get you?”
“Oh nothing. I just wanted to meet you officially. I’m Carol, Hunter’s mom.” She holds out her hand, and I shake it, managing to keep my confusion off my face.
“Nice to meet you. Are you all set? Are you sure I can’t get you anything?”
The man next to her smiles at me. “Oh no. You’ve been taking good care of us all night. Too bad you can’t sit down and talk for a few, but I understand. I’m Hunter, by the way. Junior’s dad.”
Hunter’s good looks definitely come from his parents. Now that I know who they are, it’s unmistakable that they belong to him.
“Actually, we’re Mac’s family, too,” Carol adds.
“We claim all the boys,” Mr. Ford corrects his wife. “Now let me introduce you to the others.”
Hunter’s entire family, along with those of the other band members, proves that they are all the
nicest people on the planet. An itchiness of nerves creeps over my skin. Unused to pleasant familial encounters, I beg for them to let me get them some more food and refill some drinks.
Carol finally orders some more potato skins. Before I can hightail it out of there, she says, “Make sure you stay after the show so we can talk to you. It’s not often that Hunter mentions a girl, as busy as he is. He told us to make sure we talked him up to you. He really is a nice boy.”
The heat in my cheeks could ignite the entire place in flames. The complete normality and downright pleasantness of Hunter’s family coupled with my sudden awareness of how much skin my outfit shows overwhelms me. Unable to find a spare tablecloth to cover me, I excuse myself and push my way through the throng to put in their orders.
What the hell is his game? Is he the Dom who wants to take control? Or is he the guy with the sweet family who he made sure helped him to win my consideration?
It’s not his fault he has no clue what my issues about family are. Or that the fact that jumping straight past the talking more than only a few sentences to each other to being introduced to his family makes the urge to run bloom in my stomach. And yet, he’s made more of an effort to connect with me than most of the men who’ve shared personal space with me. Does that make him an absolute catch or dangerous?
The band walks back out on stage by the time I’m serving up the food and drinks. His mom thanks me again, giving me a small reason to risk a quick glance at her son. Our eyes connect immediately, and my cheeks blush, knowing that we both caught each other peeking. I give him a thumbs-up to let him know that everything’s okay with the families.
He mouths, “Thank you,” to me, and winks.
Yep. Hunter Ford is a sexy, talented, lick-able, drool-worthy, muscled ball of danger.
6
Hunter
The energy of tonight’s crowd feeds the five of us up on stage. What a far cry from the days when we couldn’t get people to shut up long enough to listen to us. Whether it’s because tonight’s kind of a farewell concert or because they love us, we’re killing it.
