by Jaye Ripley
My shift starts in an hour. Desperation calls for me to be brave.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Mac. It’s Mel.” I hold my breath, waiting for him to berate me.
“Wondered when you’d call.” His steady tone offers no clues.
Now that I have him on the phone, my mind goes blank.
“Mel?”
“Yeah. I mean…shit. Mac, do you know where he is? I just want to know he’s okay.” My voice breaks at the end of that sentence.
“You two can’t make anything easy, can you?” He breathes out. “Listen. My loyalties have to lie with him.”
My eyes close. “I understand. Tell him that I’m sorry.”
“Hold on. I’m not done. The only thing I can tell you is to wait.”
A voice from the background yells out, “Is that Mel?” I hear Mac talking to the other person, their voices muddied.
The phone crackles, and the loud voice speaks. “Mel, don’t do anything stupid. Okay? I’m with Mac. Just wait.”
“EJ, what am I supposed to wait for? For him to call? For him to yell at me? For him to get back to Nashville?”
“Listen, I don’t know the specifics of what happened. He wouldn’t tell us. But I know my man, and right now, you need to wait. If you need something to keep you occupied, go over to my Nana’s house and help her, I don’t know, wash laundry or whatever you girl types do when you get together.”
His stupidity cuts through my annoyance. “Okay, EJ. Tell Mac that I’m waiting. Whatever that means. And I don’t need to do anything we girl types do. I’ve gotta go to work.”
Mac takes the phone back. “Be patient. Wait. That’s the best advice I can give you.”
“Thanks, Mac. Sorry for whatever trouble this causes you guys.”
“Be sorry for what you need to be sorry for, not for us. Bye, Mel.” He hangs up.
Staring at my phone, I swipe to find the number. So many things I want to say to him, but I type in the one thing I can.
“I will wait for you.”
41
Mel
Two days. No word from him. Patience and Waiting can go screw themselves. Against the advice of Mac and EJ and clinging to the words of Ms. Eugenia, I’m going to fight for Hunter and go to him.
My plan is to wait until the end of my shift, but the entire bar is dead. Not once has it ever been this quiet. Only the one guy in the corner who I recognize as having been here more than once. He watches the new waitress cleaning the tables for lack of anything else to do. Kelly-something I think is her name.
Shane keeps checking his phone while I cut another lemon for something to do.
“What, you’ve got a hot enough date tonight that you’re breaking your no-phone-behind-the-bar policy tonight?”
He shoves the phone in his pocket. “Not your business.” The look he gives me rests somewhere between mischief and glee.
“What got into your pants? Did you get a quickie before work?”
He shakes his head. “Nope.” His phone buzzes in his pocket.
“Oh for shit’s sake. Who the hell keeps blowing up your phone? You know what? I don’t care. Since it’s dead in here, I’m gonna take off.” Placing the fresh-cut lemons in the bin with the others, I wipe down the mess and leave the towel on the bar.
“No. You can’t leave.” Shane holds his hands up for me to stop.
“I get it. It’s not typical policy. But I really need to go do something.” Omitting the fact that I won’t be back for at least a week will keep him from blowing up at me. “And it’s better if I head out now. Tell Trey that I’ll call him.”
The shithead furiously types on his phone. If he’s gonna rat me out, then I have to get out of here now. Thankfully, I stashed my bag in a cabinet behind the bar instead of in the locker room. Grabbing it, I salute Shane with my middle finger.
My heart races, thinking about Hunter and going to him. Questions swim in my head. Will he be happy to see me? Will he accept my apology? What if it’s over? What if I won’t let it be over?
Shane calls out to me. “Mel, stop.”
“Unless you and an army come stop me, I’m out the door.”
“Uh, it’s Bethany. She needs you on the other side.”
My feet halt. If it’s a lie, nothing will stop me from beating his ass.
“Needs me? Like she wants to talk to me? Or is this some piece of bullshit to keep me from going?”
Trey enters the bar. His face wears a serious expression. My heart drops from my chest to my stomach. Shit, something is really wrong.
“I need you to follow me.” He crooks a finger.
In a panic, I hurry to break past him to the other side of the club. He reaches for my bag and lifts it off my shoulder. The minute my feet cross the threshold, my breath catches in my throat.
Customers pack the entire place. I push my way through the crowd, searching for Bethany. The low lights piss me off since they make it harder to see. Trey puts his hand on my shoulder and guides me deeper into the room.
I turn to him. “Is Bethany all right? Where is she?”
His brow furrows. “Bethany? Yeah, she’s fine. Why?”
Confused, I yell at him. “What the hell is going on?”
His big hands push me backwards until my butt hits a stool. He leans into me and whispers in my ear, “Exactly what should happen.”
When I try to get up, he holds me on the stool and turns me to face the stage. In my panic, I hadn’t noticed the spotlights on the stage. A huge screen sits behind a microphone. Some whistles and cheers start in the far corner closest to the stage. They grow until the whole crowd goes crazy.
Hunter stands in the middle of the stage, holding a guitar. He waves at the audience, and looks out in the crowd. His eyes settle on me, and he grins.
“Hey guys. Our guest of honor has finally made it. Before I go any further, I want to thank Trey and the R&R staff for making this possible.”
Trey’s hands squeeze my shoulders. He leaves and walks up to the stage. When he gets there, they both lean in and whisper to each other. Trey claps him on his arm and Hunter puts out his hand. They both shake, leaving me wondering what the hell they said to each other. Didn’t I screw up their friendship?
Trey leaves the stage, and Hunter throws his guitar strap around his neck. “How many of you were here for the final Tailgate Down concert?”
Most of the crowd shouts and roars. I look around the room, trying to figure out what the hell I’m doing here. Part of me wants to run up on stage, tell everybody to go home, and claim him right there under the spotlight. The rest of me can’t figure out if I’m dreaming or not.
“If you were here or if you checked out the videos on our Facebook page, you might remember that sexy woman who sang with me. Well, she’s here tonight. She’s here most nights since she works at the R&R. Everybody, say hello to Mel.”
The spotlight shines on me, blinding my vision from seeing anyone else. Lots of people whoop, holler, and whistle. I shield my eyes with my hand until the spotlight returns to the stage.
“You know, I’ve been incredibly fortunate most of my life. I have a family who loves me, a band made up of true friends and brothers, and a dream career. In fact, I’m sure several of you have seen our good fortune of being the first artists signed to Stacia Rollins’ new label, Long Road Records.” He does a stupid fist pump, and everyone laughs.
“Stop talking and sing something for us, Hunter,” a woman’s voice calls out.
“I will, and y’all are gonna help me like we rehearsed. But not until I say a few more things.” He points at me. “Mel, what I hadn’t planned on was finding you. That night…call it fate, call it destiny, or call me the luckiest bastard in the world, but the best thing to happen in my life was you.”
Quiet ooh’s and aww’s spread around the room. Some girl near me whispers loud enough to hear, “Lucky bitch.”
“And I know it hasn’t been that long, but I wanted you, and I guess everyone els
e in here and soon to be online,” he points to one of our bouncers who’s holding up his phone taping everything, “to know that I love you, Melody Barnett. That I’m definitely not a single guy. And that my heart belongs to you.
“I know that when a guy writes a song for his girl, it’s supposed to be romantic and slow. But there’s nothing slow about us, baby, so this is what I wrote for you.”
Music pumps through the sound system. Hunter winks at me and starts strumming along. Behind him, the screen comes to life with video images taken from a car as it drives down the road. Flashes of buildings, landscapes, and then familiar landmarks play. Nashville.
Hunter starts the first verse, and I concentrate hard to pay attention to the lyrics and not to the hot man who gets me hot singing them. The words talk about meeting and falling for someone fast. I can’t help the smile that spreads on my face. The lyrics leading up to the chorus talk about trust and holding on to him. When he gets to the chorus, they are a fast tumble of words about not being scared, not doubting, and holding on to him.
The final line of the chorus hits me hard, detonating my heart. “If you fall fast, I’ll love you slow.”
My body buzzes with desire, and my hands grip the stool to keep me from rushing the stage. Although my mind tries to keep up with the second verse about true love, all I see is him. At the end of the second verse, my hands cover my mouth as I laugh hysterically at the lines leading to the chorus.
“They may question all this change
But finding love is wondrous strange.”
I hold up my hand so he can see the tattoo on my arm.
At the top of the second round of the chorus, the video changes behind him into short vignettes that transition into multiple boxes as each one adds to the rest. First, Hart smiles at the camera playing drums. Levi waves. Mac smiles down as he sits and plays at a beat up old upright. Underneath all their images is #Come2Nashville. EJ stands in front of the Grand Ole Opry with a sign that says, “See. Told you to wait. #Come2Nashville.”
The audience erupts in loud cheers over the music when a video of Stacia Rollins hits the screen. She gives a thumbs-up and holds up her own sign. “Can’t wait to work with you. #Come2Nashville.” The hashtag stays at the bottom of the screen as more images and videos from around the famous city play.
“Okay guys,” Hunter yells out. “Just like we practiced. One, two, three, four.”
Everyone stomps twice and claps once in rhythm to the music. The floor shakes, and my stool vibrates underneath me. All the other instruments except the drum banging the same rhythm drop out.
Hunter grins at me as he stomps, clamps, and sings the bridge.
“No more questions, no more doubt
No more time for backing out
Take a chance on what we’ve got
Give our love another shot.”
The entire crowd sings along to the chorus, and I join them, clapping along and soaking it all in. My body floats as a natural high alters my entire being.
At the end, Hunter cues the audience, and they sing “nah-nah’s” to the tune. Their interaction’s just as much a part of the song for me as he is. Music surrounds me and fills me up.
I don’t even notice when the song finishes. The crowd erupts, clapping and yelling. Hunter smiles down at me from the stage. My body remains motionless on the stool, my breath heaving. Too many emotions try to direct my next move.
“What are you waiting for, honey? Go get your man,” a woman prompts me.
The stool crashes to the floor as I stand up. Moving my feet, I run out of the room.
42
Hunter
She ran. She fucking ran. Placing the borrowed guitar carefully on the nearby stand, I jump down from the stage. Hands grope me as I push my way through the crowd.
“Forget her. You can write a song for me,” says a busty blonde woman.
The crowd parts as I make it to the hallway leading to the kitchen. Trey meets me there.
“She went out the back door to the staff parking lot. Give her a break. Hear her out first.”
A rueful laugh bubbles out of me. “Maybe after I kill her.”
“I don’t think she’s running, man,” he yells at me.
My hands push the heavy metal door open. It crashes against the brick wall. “Mel!”
I scan the lit parking lot. Near the end of the row, I spot her with her car door open and her ass sticking out. The desire to spank her for punishment as well as for pleasure battles with immediate anger at her running away yet again.
My boots stomp on the pavement as I make my way to her. One of them might get shoved up her ass.
“Mel, whatever you’re doing, stop.” My tone leaves no room for disobedience.
It takes her too long to stop messing around with whatever she has in her backseat. She straightens up, her hands planted on her hips. “What?” She looks at me like she has no fucking clue how she’s breaking my heart.
My God, she’s fucking stunning. Even in the low light, her eyes sparkle with life. The curves of her body call to me. My own dick betrays my anger, making its hard argument that there are far better things to do with her than fight.
“I cannot believe you’re going to run away from me. From us. Not after everything.”
Her brow furrows. “I’m not.”
The next line of accusations dies on my tongue. “What? I don’t understand. Then why did you leave the room?”
She holds up a piece of paper with a frayed edge from being ripped out of a notebook. “I had to go get this.”
“What is it?”
“Words. Well, not just words. Something I wrote so I could sing them to you when I found you in Nashville.”
My turn to look confused. “You were going to Nashville?”
She pointed at her car. “I’m all packed. Was going to leave tonight even though Mac and EJ cryptically told me to wait. They never told me why. And now I know. Guess we were trying to surprise each other.”
My feet cover the distance in seconds. My arms hold onto her as I look down at the most amazing woman I’ve ever known. “You wrote a song? For me?”
If the light were brighter, I’d bet everything I had that she’s blushing. “Well, not a whole one. Kind of part of one. First verse and a chorus.”
My finger brushes down her cheek. “Sing it for me,” I breathe out.
“Now?” Her voice squeaks in panic.
I chuckle. “You wrote it for me. I sang for you. Now you sing for me. That’s an order.” I tip my forehead against hers.
The paper crinkles in her hand, but she doesn’t look at it as her beautiful voice sings low so only I can hear her.
“Love is a four-letter word
It’s just not something that I ever heard
No books or movies convince me it’s true
Until I met you”
“Hold me fast
And don’t let me go
I’ll overcome my past
And I’ll let love grow
Together we can last
If you’ll let me know
We’ll take it slow
So hold me fast”
No words could ever sum up the emotions overwhelming me. Ever since she harmonized with me that first night with natural ease, I knew we had a connection beyond anything I’ve ever known.
My face hovers in front of hers, my mouth almost on top of hers. “We both wrote about falling in love fast and holding on.”
She licks her lips. “Mm-hmm.”
My lips gently brush against hers. “Does yours have a title?”
Mel takes a deep breath. “It’s ‘Fast and Slow’ for now.”
I chuckle and indulge in another light graze of lips. “Mine’s ‘Fast Love.’ Dammit, woman, I love you.”
Her lips move against mine. “Hunter, I’m so sorry—”
My finger stops her mouth. “No apologies. We’ve both screwed up. But I think our songs say everything we need to, don’t you?”
&n
bsp; She nods her head.
“So less talking, more kissing.”
With one passionate kiss, we claim each other. No matter how hard I press against her, it will never be enough. Our tongues entwine in a familiar dance, and we devour each other like we may never have another chance. And we almost didn’t.
Her hand moves down my back and grips my ass, pulling my erection into her. She rubs her leg up mine, giving me better access to her. My hand grazes her bare thigh. Thank fuck she’s wearing a skirt tonight. I push the leather up until my fingers touch lace. My thumb traces the edge closest to her warm core.
A car drives by, its lights catching the tops of our heads. In our hurry to be together, we’ve forgotten where we are.
“I need you right now,” she growls. Her intensity surprises me.
“I’m in total agreement. We can get in your car and go someplace.” Her place. A hotel. Anywhere with a bed. Anywhere with a flat surface I can lay her down on.
“Takes too long.” She grabs my hand and drags me behind her. “Follow me.”
Her quick steps amuse me, but the promise of what comes next stokes my arousal. She walks past the huge garbage containers and around the side of the building.
“What if someone comes out to find you?” I ask.
“Then they better as hell see you buried in me.” She grasps the back of my neck and pulls me in, crushing her against the brick wall.
The fear of being caught lingers and enhances every action. Our lips, teeth, and tongue move all over each other in a hurried frenzy. Again, my hands push up her skirt. Hooking my thumbs underneath the delicate lace, I rip off her panties. My fingers find her wet and wanting. They stroke her as her hips writhe, pushing her against my touch.
“God, I’ve missed this,” she whispers in my ear, biting my earlobe. “I’ve missed you.”
“Me, too.” My concentration focuses on not coming in my pants from her clear desire.
Her tender flesh engorges under my strokes. My thumb circles her clit, and she moans. That’s the song I want playing in my ear.
