Sweet Melody: Rock & Rodeo Romance Book 1

by Jaye Ripley

  “Good girl.” Hunter takes the glass from my hand and places it on a nearby table. He takes off his hat and grabs my arm. With a quick pull, his lips cover mine. His tongue dances on my lips until I open my mouth. We dive straight into a hard kiss, ferocious and urgent. His cock hardens against me, and my hand reaches down to touch him. He catches me and pulls away, his eyes shining with lust. My own traitorous parts pool with desire.

  Somewhere far away in the background, the band plays the intro to a very familiar song. Hunter runs his hand through his hair and breathes out. “Holy Hell, you and I are going to have a little fun on the stage and then a lot of fun tonight.” He places his hat back on his head.

  I nod, dazed.

  “Follow.” He turns and doesn’t look back to see if I walk behind him. He accepts my submission as a foregone conclusion, and I surrender with no more hesitation or regrets.

  The band plays the same Pink song from earlier today. The bourbon’s burned off the butterflies in my stomach, and the cheers in the room boost my confidence, making it easier to settle into the spirit of the song. By the second round of the chorus, I strut across the front of the stage and encourage everyone to clap and sing along.

  For those few moments that the music pours out of me, the entire room belongs to me. Even Sean behind the bar stops serving and claps along. Bethany jumps up and down like a true groupie. Most of the staff stops what they’re doing to encourage me. All except Tamsin and Trey. Tamsin keeps her back to the stage the entire time. Trey stands off to the side with his arms folded over his chest. When the song ends, the adrenaline that courses through my body makes every nerve ending hum.

  Hunter covers my mic and leans in so only I can hear him. “As good as you feel right now, I’m going to take you even higher before I make you explode. Don’t go too far. I might want you again.”

  My legs shake. I almost come from only his breath in my ear.

  “I might get fired for this,” I counter.

  “Nah. Leave it to me.” He winks, and I trust that he can take care of the situation. Hell, at that moment, I trust that he can take care of me in any situation.

  Giving one last wave to the crowd, I leave the stage. The family members in the VIP section cheer for me at my return.

  Carol stands up and hugs me. “You sing beautifully, darling girl. You two are a good match.”

  Before I can appropriately freak out, I make my escape clearing more dishes and drinks. On my way back from the kitchen, Trey stops me.

  “So. You and Hunter.”

  My eyes close. I had forgotten how deep and enticing Trey’s voice was. Hearing it spoken in a personal tone reminds me of all the things he used to say that turned me on. Those faint memories of time past won’t keep me from being fired right now.

  Opening my eyes, I glance in his direction. “We just talked today.”

  “But you want him.” Trey never does do conversation. Straight to the point. Brutal.

  “It’s not your business, really, is it?” Not to be a bitch, but I don’t want to hash out the past right now nor miss any more of the concert or of Hunter.

  Trey shrugs. “You know, he asked me about you.”

  My eyes narrow. “What did you tell him? Other than my first name.”

  He holds his hands up in surrender. “Not anything you wouldn’t want me to. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  My shoulders relax, and I look up at Trey, trying to read him. As big and in shape as he is, he seems like an immovable mountain. But something else flashes in his eyes—perhaps regret? “Is it okay with you? Hunter and me, I mean.”

  He doesn’t answer right away. His hand reaches out like he wants to take mine, but he folds his arms and almost hugs himself. “What we had, Mel? It’s long over. So I have no claim on what you do or don’t do.”

  I nod, wondering why I feel a little sad at that statement. He motions for me to go back on the floor, and with careful reluctance, I turn to go.

  Before I get out of earshot, Trey calls my name. “Hey, Mel. If I’d known you could do that, I might have convinced you to grace our stage a long time ago. You did good, kid.” He winks with a small smile.

  I nod my head, too dumbfounded at his response to reply.

  His smile fades as he adds one more thing. “I wish you’d look at me like you look at him tonight. It’s my fault that you don’t. You’ll always be my biggest regret.”

  He turns and walks away, leaving me alone to consider the gravity of his admission.

  8

  Mel

  Even though I don’t need Trey’s apology or blessing, his words lighten whatever load on my shoulders the end of our relationship created. As my focus returns to the floor, Hunter’s singing a party anthem, and I allow myself to look forward to the possibilities the night might bring.

  Bethany catches my eye and makes her way over to me. We grab a free spot near the wall.

  She yells in my ear, “So. Looks like you and Hunter might actually have reasons to use the massive amounts of condoms I stuffed into your bag tonight. Girlie, I knew you could sing, but I had no idea you could perform like that. How in the hell did he get you to do it?”

  The goofy grin on my face gives way too much away to my best friend. “He made me drink bourbon.”

  “That doesn’t sound half bad.”

  I nod. “And then he kissed me stupid.”

  “Now that’s what I’m talking about.” She high-fives me. “Tell me. Did he make you wet?”

  I roll my eyes. “It was a fucking deluge down there. My head was so fuzzy and my body so on fire that I had no will power left. Besides, turns out belting out a song can be tons of fun with everyone cheering you on.”

  Bethany surprises me with a quick hug. “I’m so happy for you. You have no idea what the two of you on stage looked like to the rest of us. Don’t even kid yourself. He’s not a one-night contender. And I know you tend to run the other way when that happens.” She pulls away and taps my forehead with her finger. “Don’t let your head get in the way of something that’s possibly good for you.”

  I slap her finger away. “Don’t go running away with ideas of ‘Happily Ever After’ either. You and I both know that life has more ‘Shit Sucks’ moments than fairy tale endings.”

  Bethany chews on her lip. “I don’t know. You and I both found each other even though both our shit sucked. You can’t say that we’re not happy together. You never know. Maybe you and Hunter—”

  “He’s moving to Nashville,” I interrupt. “So what’s the point?”

  Bethany’s body adopts a fighting pose, her one hand braced against her hip. “Listen. I love you more than life, but at some point, you’ve got to be willing to take chances and let someone else in. As much as I care about you, I’m not going to marry you.”

  My eyes widen. “Who said anything about marriage?”

  Bethany stops me with her hand up. “Wrong choice of word, Miss Knee-Jerk.” She takes my jaw in her hand and holds my face firm so I can’t turn away. “Don’t run from life because of your past. Run toward it. Or at least run toward him. ‘Cause, sweetie, if you’re not going to take the chance he so clearly wants to give you, then we can send any one of these screaming idiots with boobs home with him tonight.”

  Why does that statement make me want to slap a bitch?

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?” Bethany narrows her eyes at me. “One bruise and one band-aid at a time, right?” She crooks her pinkie at me and waits.

  With a sigh, I wrap my pinkie around hers. “Right.”

  Bethany holds on to my finger with hers for a second longer than normal to make her point. Satisfied, she perks up. “Good. So, what did Trey want?”

  I smirk. “Oh, just to apologize.”

  “You’re shitting me! He actually said, ‘I’m sorry?’ Damn, is the floor getting icy? It might be freezing over.”

  “Don’t you dare call this Hell. As well as things have gone tonight, I might ask for a permanent switc
h to your side of the club, Bee.”

  She laughs, and takes out a tube of lipstick from some hidden pocket. Standing on her tiptoes, she freshens the color on my lips, and with her finger cleans up under my eyes to wipe away any stray mascara.

  “Well, make sure to do everything I would do tonight when you get Mr. Hotty-Singer-Man into your pants. And stay the hell away from Tamsin. I think she created a voodoo doll with your face on it and hung it up in the locker room.”

  * * *

  Hunter calls me up on stage for their second encore song. He’s asked me if I thought I could handle singing “Wind Blows West” as a duet. Tonight, if he asked me to fly, my body could sprout its own wings.

  When we actually tackle the song, instead of lyrics about a guy hot for a girl, I follow his lead and change the words so that we sing directly to each other, our mutual desire oozing out of every single note. During the chorus, our voices blend in an easy harmony as if we’d always sung together.

  By the time we get to his acoustic guitar solo, the entire room disappears. It’s not hard to look the part of the girl who wants the guy. When he sings, his shining eyes look straight into me. His gaze strips me bare. I shove all of my hunger and craving for him into my delivery. If we could, I swear we’d strip each other down and go at it right here on the stage. Instead, we end the song singing into one mic.

  The room erupts and wakes us from our private passion. The other band members join us at the front of the stage, and I’m reminded that I’m stepping on their moment. Worried they might hate me, my eyes scan for anger amongst them. Instead, they’re all clapping for us. Mac gives me a wink.

  Hunter puts his arm around my shoulder. “You know this is a game changer, right?”

  I nod, not sure if he means between us or with his band. “You better get me off stage so you guys can take your much-deserved bows.”

  He laughs and drops his arm from my shoulder. The absence of his touch makes me ache a little.

  Without a mic, Hunter asks everyone if he should kiss me. He plays them so that they buy into his theatrics and chant, “Kiss her. Kiss her. Kiss her.”

  Hunter asks in my ear, “You okay with this?”

  “Hell yeah.” All of me soars from the natural high of the moment.

  With old Hollywood style, he grabs me in his arms, turns, and dips me. He’s asked me to surrender to him, and right now, I’m completely at his mercy. Hunter takes a second to look at me before his lips brush mine once…twice…and then devours me.

  The crowd explodes, but we don’t hear them. Nothing comes between us. No bullshit. No lies. Just us in that moment. Straight up. Neat.

  9

  Hunter

  EJ crashes onto the couch next to me. He grabs my beer, and takes a long swig. When I refuse to take the bottle back, he downs the rest in gulps.

  “Dude, tonight was beyond. It’s like the stars aligned or some crap like that. Seriously, though. That was one hell of a show.”

  I nod my head, looking at my bandmates surrounding me in the vacated VIP section. Our families left after our own brief private after-party. The leftover R&R staff, that has been outstanding tonight, bustles around us, cleaning up and giving us space. Mel had taken off after talking only a short time with my parents after the show. My eyes scan for her, but no sign of her anywhere. Her absence makes me restless.

  “Check it out.” Hart holds up his phone. “There’s already a bunch of videos from our concert up on our Facebook page. This one’s Hunter and his dad.”

  The tinny music playing out of the phone’s speakers shoots straight to my heart. “I’ll have to see if I can rip that off onto my computer sometime soon before it disappears. I’d like to have something to remember that moment by.”

  Mac looks up at me from watching the video. “It was an incredible part of tonight. Truly awesome.”

  EJ, Hart, and Levi agree in turn. The video ends, and everyone settles back in their seats.

  “I don’t know if I love your dad more for coming on stage tonight, giving you Caroline, or surprising us by showing up with our trailer all fixed up.” EJ points at Hart, who flips him the bird. He places his hand on my shoulder. “We have him to thank for a lot, and what went down tonight…I hope that your pops knows we all love him.”

  “He does,” I confirm in a low tone. Thinking back on Dad telling me to keep Caroline makes my eyes water.

  That weird feeling of being energized by the post-concert high and too exhausted to move hits us all. An easy quiet settles around us. We drink and reflect on the concert in the quiet hall of a room.

  “So tonight was a little different than what we normally do, but I would say that we could probably keep a good chunk of it when we start things up in Nashville,” starts Mac. His brain never stops moving to the next steps. “We built the mood well with the beginning three songs, although we’re gonna need to do less covers.”

  “The label’s gonna dictate a lot of how we change things once we’re there, Mac,” I say, not really ready to deconstruct the entire show. “No point in us trying to figure things out if they’re gonna change everything once we get there.”

  EJ places his hands behind his head and stretches his long legs out with a sigh. “As long as they don’t dictate too much change, I’m pretty much willing to play whatever. Except, can we all please agree to drop ‘She Can’ from our entire collection? I’d like to leave that piece of dog shit right here where it can rot and die.”

  His request gets a laugh all the way around. How can we not play one of the first songs we wrote collectively as a band late one night after many, many beers and two buckets of greasy fast food fried chicken?

  Every time we had worked in the phrase “She Can” into the lyrics, we really meant “chicken,” and usually sang that word with a twang to fit the song’s title. The song in its entirety is ridiculous, but because we’ve told the story of its origins so many times, the local fans love the damn thing.

  I raise my hand. “I can vote for letting ‘She Can’ die. Anyone else agree?”

  Everyone raises his hand except Levi.

  “What?” he asks us. “I like it. Makes me smile every time.”

  “That’s because you’re not the one singing it, buddy,” says EJ. “And by the way, pay up.” He extends his hand out and wiggles his fingers.

  Levi shakes his head, pulls out his wallet, and takes out a twenty. He slaps it into EJ’s hand, gives me a side look, and sits back down.

  “What was that for?” I ask.

  “Because—I. Was. Right. Remember earlier when you played stupid to try and make us think you were distracted by composing a new song in that head of yours. Yeah. Say it with me this time, fucker.” He reaches over, smashes my face with both his hands, and makes me open and shut my mouth as he says in a high, cartoonish voice, “Wild Man, you were so-o-o-o-o-o right. It was a girl.”

  It takes little effort to push him off, but he keeps coming at me, acting like he’s now the girl trying to kiss my face. We wrestle for a second before I plant my foot in his chest and kick him away.

  “Yeah, all right. So it’s a girl. I don’t think she impeded my ability to play tonight.”

  Hart spits out a little of his drink as he laughs. “Impeded? Are you shitting me? Man, you were on fire. If that’s what happens when you’re trying to get a girl, then maybe we shoulda used that tactic long ago.”

  “Not a girl, Hart. Just Mel. Holy Hell, does she have a voice,” I admit.

  “And a smokin’ hot body to go with it. Damn, she’s fine. That mid-riff shirt cut down to here.” EJ points to right above his belly button. “That short, short leather mini skirt that’s so spankable. Those plump red lips that would look so good wrapped around—”

  I punch him in his arm hard enough the bruise swill show up dark and purple tomorrow.

  “Ouch. Man, I was gonna say wrapped around the lyrics.” EJ rubs his arm.

  “Sure you were.” I rear back my arm to punch him again.

&
nbsp; “No, seriously,” he says, holding up his hands in surrender. “She rocked it out tonight. Her effect on the stage was…interesting, to say the least.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me. “You gonna tap that booty tonight.”

  “I swear, Wilder, you’re about to have my fist in your face if you don’t stop talking about her like that. She is not one of the girls that you like, some fangirl ready for a quick fuck.”

  “Aha!” EJ stands up, looking at Hart. “Now you pay up, fucker.”

  Hart groans as he reaches for his wallet.

  EJ turns to Mac. “You, too.”

  My eyes widen at Mac’s sheepish look in my direction as he hands EJ his twenty. “What the hell was the bet?” My voice rises higher than it should.

  “That your celibate days are soon to be over.” EJ makes a show of snapping each bill as he lines them up and folds them into his own wallet.

  My brow furrows. “I said she’s not a one-time thing, or does my fist need to remind you of that?”

  “No need for violence. I mean that you haven’t really liked anyone, or been with anyone, since Gemma.”

  The name of my ex-longtime girlfriend and almost fiancée stings. “What the hell business is it of yours who I date or sleep with?” I look around the group. “And why the hell are you guys betting on it?”

  Mac stands up, pulls a chair over, and sits by me. “It’s just one of EJ’s stupid bets. But I concede that he’s probably right. You have that certain look you get when you’re pretty determined. And remember what happened last time.”

  Thoughts of Gemma and how she affected us flood my brain. She had wanted to marry a country superstar. Many times, she talked to me about dumping the band and going after a contract as a solo act. It had started so gradually that I didn’t even notice the wedge she had pounded into place between me and the rest of my guys until the one rehearsal where she boldly suggested that maybe the band should be “Hunter Ford and Tailgate Down.”