by Brynne Asher
I give him a push and square my body between the two of them, blocking his view of her olive skin and that damned barbell. “Go back to where you came from. She’s not interested.”
“Yeah?” He glares at me and takes a step, getting into my space. “Why don’t we let the lady decide who she’s interested in.”
I turn back to my illegal pain in the ass and raise a brow, daring her to speak against me. “Tell this guy you aren’t interested.”
She shifts her weight and turns her eyes to the shit-for-brains standing in front of us. “Hey, thanks for the offer. You’re sweet, but I’m good.”
He’s sweet? Who the fuck is this girl?
The guy growls as he shakes his head and finally leaves.
I didn’t think I’d ever get rid of him and finally turn to her. “How’d you get in?”
She has the decency to look sheepish.
I had no idea sheepish could be sexy as fuck, but, on her, it is.
She looks over at the band and bites her lip before saying, “Not everyone is as thorough as you.”
I scrape my hand down my face and sigh. Now I’m gonna have to fire someone. I need my bouncers thinking with their heads, not their dicks.
“Come on, little one. Time to go.” I shift and motion for her to move so I can walk her out and hopefully find who let her through with that shitty fake ID. I should’ve confiscated it, but it seems I was probably thinking with my dick at the time, too.
She doesn’t move from her spot on the wall and her eyes jump from the band and back to me. “Um, hang on.”
“Excuse me?” I cross my arms and stare down at her. No one tells me to hang on.
She looks toward the stage and I might as well not even be in the same room as this chick, she’s so distracted. Putting her hand out to wave me off again, she mumbles, “Just another five minutes.”
I glance at the band that I’ve hardly paid any attention to all night. A guy is sitting on a barstool strumming away at a guitar singing a cover by Bon Jovi. Since the talent I book are mostly no-names in the industry, they perform a lot of covers. Why the fuck is she so interested in them? I look back, wondering if it’s the lead singer she’s obsessed with.
Just when the crowd is completely invested in belting out Wanted Dead or Alive, I grab her by the bicep, wrapping my fingers completely around her arm. Right then, the music transitions to a slow, soulful harmony. The girl tenses under my hold and, when she looks up at me, she shakes her head quickly and begs, “Wait, please! Just one more song.”
“What the hell is wrong with—” I start, but at the same moment I try to pull her away from the wall, her hand fists my shirt at my abs where she holds tight.
Not like she’s trying to get away from me, she couldn’t.
And not like she’s trying to overpower me, she never would.
No, she holds on like she’s waiting for something—gripping at me as if her life depends on it.
I’m not sure if it’s the change of melody or her touch, but I let go of her bicep and wrap my arm around her. As if she doesn’t know what she’s doing because she’s so consumed by the damned stage, she melts into my chest.
This new song isn’t twangy. It isn’t fast, slow, or even an ode to prison or grandmas. It speaks of love, heartbreak, storms, and tears. I’ve never heard it before. It’s just the singer backed up only by the piano. The crowd quiets and is weirdly mesmerized by his voice, the lyrics, or who knows, maybe both. What I do know is, the girl settles into my soul just like the music.
I don’t remember the last time anything has felt so right—not once in my twenty-eight years.
What the hell?
When the song comes to an end—stirring something deep inside me—the place goes wild and the girl gives me the rest of her weight. I look down and her rich brown eyes are wide as she takes in the crowd from our place near the wall.
It’s my turn to be mesmerized as I stare into her beautiful face and don’t have a choice but to let go of her when she pushes away. Then, like a fucking dream, she gazes up to me with an expression so content and satisfied, I wonder if I could recreate it by making her come with only my tongue.
“Thank you for that.” She gives me a genuine smile and you’d think I just sent her to orgasmic heaven as opposed to holding her during a heartbreaking song. “I’ll go now.”
Like a fucking idiot, I stand surprised and perplexed as I watch the crowd swallow her up. Then, she’s gone.
What the hell just happened?
Chapter 3 – Link Whatshisface
dance a beautiful dance
of hands and lips
Link
I have no time for birthday parties. I have liquor to inventory, a meeting with the owner of the microbrewery, and an appointment with my loan officer. Not to mention, my fucking dad called this morning, informing me I was expected at a family event and if I didn’t show, my mother would be sorely disappointed.
Well, they’re sorely disappointed in me no matter what I do, so it was no skin off my tattooed back to duly inform him he could shove his family event up his ass. I have another family event to be at—my real family. The only one that really matters. The Maysons.
I grew up with the Mayson boys, but Nico and I have always been especially tight. We stayed that way even after I escaped to Vegas to get away from the family I was cursed with from birth. The Maysons have always had my back, gone out of their way to bring me into their fold, teaching me what unconditional love looks like—what it means to be a parent, a son, a brother. I’ve done everything I could to return the favor over the years so when Nico called me last week, inviting me to his twin girls’ third birthday party, it didn’t matter what I had on my plate. I said yes.
But I don’t know girls. I know boxing, nightclubs, and how to avoid my parents. I don’t have one clue what three-year-old girls like, other than probably the color pink. I hate pink, so when I went to the toy store and ended up with one of those battery-operated ride-on cars, I got them a black Escalade. They can deal. It was delivered this morning.
As I walk around Nico’s house that overlooks their land, I hear a ton of commotion. When I round the corner, it happens just like it did the other night. She must have some witchery, spellbound pull on me because for the second time in a crowd, I see nothing but her.
The little one.
She’s here.
This time with more clothes on, which makes her look even younger. Now I question if she was telling the truth about being eligible to vote.
“Hey, man.” I feel a slap on my back as soon as the words hit me. When I look over, Nico Mayson is shaking his head at me with a smirk on his face. “Only you would send a black Escalade for my little girls. They haven’t gotten out of it all day, dude. It was too much, but I can’t thank you enough for not sending some Barbie-mobile.”
I nod, not wanting to talk about his girls’ gift, and look back into the crowd that’s growing by the second, jutting my chin toward her. “Who’s that?”
He frowns and looks out to the masses. “Who?”
I look her over again. Today, she’s in short cutoffs and a tank with a flannel tied around her waist. All I can think about is her hidden barbell. “Her.”
“Um, no. Stay away from that one, man,” Nico drawls and my eyes jump to him, wondering if my thoughts are plastered all over my face. “That’s Avery Carpino, our babysitter. She’s been with us for a year now and has become the little sister we never had. You so much as look at her, I’ll kick your ass.”
I cross my arms and scowl. “I’ve just seen her before and was surprised to see her here. Plus, who do you think I am? She’s a kid.”
Nico levels his serious eyes on me. “She’s a student at Vandy.”
Great. Fucking Vanderbilt. Like I need Vandy thrown in my face more than it already is.
“We all know you could’ve gone to Vanderbilt, right?” When I look over, he’s smirking as he gives me shit about my past. “Nothing would’ve
made Mommy-Dearest happier, but you threw that shit in her face.”
I frown. “Bite me. You know I’d rather take a beating than talk about my mother.”
Nico chuckles and goes on. “Avery’s majoring in early childhood development. I interviewed ten people before I found someone I’d trust enough with the girls and Bax. When Sophie wanted to go back to work at the library a couple afternoons a week, I needed someone reliable. She comes from a big-ass family like ours so she fits in.”
I want to ask how old she is, why she comes all the way out here just to babysit, and I really want to know why the hell she was so obsessed with the singer the other night. Just seeing her from across the expanse of Nico’s property brings back memories of her pressed to my body as she watched the man on stage.
All of a sudden, I have the burning desire to recreate that moment, but I want her to focus on me and no one else.
“You want a beer? Dad’s manning the grill and Mom’s in the kitchen. Warning, they plan to chew your ass for not coming out enough after finally moving home. I heard all about it once they found out you’d be here.” He grins and slaps me on the back again before heading for the coolers. He looks over his shoulder and adds, “And don’t think my brothers are gonna let you off the hook, either. It’s time to show your face around here on the regular.”
I do everything I can to drag my eyes off the little one, who’s known to everyone else as Avery. She’s got Bax on her hip while the twins chase her around in the mini-Escalade. Her dark hair that framed her gorgeous face and bare olive shoulders the other night is now piled high on her head like she doesn’t give a shit and, for some reason, I find that refreshing. After spending the last ten years working in clubs as a bouncer, manager, and now an owner, I’ve always been surrounded by strippers or women who are so made up there was no way to know what they really look like. Not her. She looks like she just rolled out of bed, but on her, it’s fuck-hot.
Dammit. I force myself to look away and decide to avoid her. It’s been a long time since a woman has grabbed my attention. I guess when all females start to look alike and blend into one, I need to branch out of the nightclub scene.
I decide to head into the house and see Susan Mayson. It’s time I get my ass-chewing over with and greet the woman who’s been more of a mother to me than my God-given one.
*****
Avery
“Why don’t you two go play with your cousins and give Avery a break?” Sophie looks down at her twin girls, Willow and Harmony, as she pulls Bax from my arms. “You act like she’s here to babysit you, but it’s your birthday party.”
I grin at the girls before looking to Sophie. “It’s really okay. I love spending time with them.”
“You got a good one here, Sophie,” November says as she waddles up, her big pregnant belly leading the way. “I might just steal her away from you—I could use a break. Our girls are so busy these days, I’d give anything to just wander the aisles of the grocery store by myself. Every time I find a sitter I like, Asher finds a reason to fire her. No one is good enough to look after his children.”
I try not to let my eyes widen, because I get it. When one of my professors posted that a family was looking for a part-time nanny, I jumped all over it. I come from a huge clan and being away at college, I miss spending time with the kids. Since I haven’t made any money doing what I really want to do, I figure this would be the next best thing. Nico and Sophie Mayson are great to work for and their kids are sweet. But interviewing with Nico Mayson was no dance through the tulips. He grilled me on my experience with children, my family, and even ran my background. Hell, I had three interviews before he finally let me meet his kids.
So, November Mayson mentioning in passing how her husband has fired all their babysitters does not surprise me a bit. Overprotectiveness appears to run in the family.
“Avery’s amazing,” Sophie agrees as she gives me a wink. “It took me two months to find someone Nico would hire. I have to treat her with care because I can’t afford to lose her.”
Sophie is not exaggerating. Not only do they compensate me better than any babysitter deserves, I’m always invited to stay for dinner, included in family events like today, and feel like I’ve found a second family in Tennessee as big and lovable as the one I left at home in Nebraska.
“What can I do to help?” I ask, noticing the crowd is growing as we speak. Just when I thought I’d met all the Maysons and their friends, I realize there are a ton of people here I’ve never seen.
“Not a thing.” Sophie’s voice is adamant. “You’re not working today and I want you to relax. I do wish you would’ve brought a friend.” I open my mouth to argue but she puts a hand up and cuts me off. “I know, I know. You and that guy broke up a long time ago. I get it. I just feel bad you don’t have anyone to hang out with besides the kids and us boring parents.”
I roll my eyes playfully and shake my head. “Are you kidding? You Maysons are a clone of my big, Italian family. At this point, you’d have to kick me out of the state of Tennessee to get rid of me.”
Sophie’s eyes get big and she shakes her head. “I’d never. There’s no reason for crazy-talk, Avery Carpino.”
I lean in to give Bax a kiss on his perfect, chubby cheek. “I’ll go see if there’s anything I can do to help Susan in the kitchen. The last I saw, she was working with a mess of grandkids at her feet.”
“Thanks, Avery.”
I walk across the grass and patio to the house. When my flip-flopped feet make their way into the kitchen, Susan is on her way out, followed by Liz and Lilly. I hold the door for them since their arms are loaded with dishes piled with enough food to feed an army.
“Can I help with anything else?” I ask.
“Nope,” Susan calls as she walks outside. “Grab yourself a drink and make a plate of food. You’re about the size of my little finger—we need to feed you.”
I laugh and head into the kitchen to grab a diet root beer. It’s my guilty pleasure and Sophie keeps a stash in the house just for me.
When I shut the refrigerator door, I let out a little scream.
Appearing out of nowhere is the man who wouldn’t let me in The Knot. He’s the same man who caught me after I snuck back in line, after waiting for a replacement bouncer who looked like he was more interested in flirting than comparing every nuance of my body to my fake ID. And he’s the same man I shared a moment with while I hung on every word as I experienced my dream come alive. Cell by cell—combusting in my heart—it was born. I knew I’d never feel the same. At that moment, I’d become addicted and knew I’d done the right thing by moving to Nashville. Now, I’m more determined than ever to multiply that experience into ten million more.
It’s something I’ll never forget and by him standing there as I clung to him, he became a part of it. Not that I minded sharing my life-changing two-minutes-and-forty-seven-seconds with some hot guy made solely of tattooed muscle. I knew I’d never forget him, but I never dreamt I’d see him again.
But here he is.
“Who are you?” he bites, not knowing the place he’s carved in my soul, where he’ll remain until the day I die.
I don’t answer, but ask, “Do you know the Maysons?”
“I practically am a Mayson. Now, answer my question. Who are you?”
Okay, I can see why he might be frustrated at the sight of me since I snuck into the bar after he unceremoniously bounced me.
I bite my bottom lip as I crack open my can of Diet A&W. “Yeah, sorry about the other night.”
His frown disintegrates into a blank stare. “You’re sorry?”
I tilt my head and widen my eyes. “Of course.”
Shifting his weight, he places a hand high on the cabinet next to me as he holds a bottle of beer in the other. “Why are you sorry for something you clearly knew was wrong?”
Hmm. He got me there.
“You’re right,” I agree. “I’m really not sorry. I would do it again—I’d do it a
thousand times over because it meant that much to me. But I am sorry you’re upset about it. I do feel bad about that.”
“Sweetheart, I wasn’t upset. I was downright pissed.”
“Oh.” I take a sip of my root beer. “Well, now I feel really bad.”
“Would you fucking quit with the feel bad shit, Avery?”
I stand up straight. “Wait, how do you know my name?”
“Nico.”
“If you know my name, then why do you keep asking who I am?”
His eyes fall slowly and he shakes his head. When he looks at me again, he pushes away from the wall and grabs my free hand.
“Hey!” I yell, but his grip is tight and he pulls me toward the front of the house. His eyes dart around the entryway before he jerks me one more time and I have to be careful not to slosh my root beer. The next thing I know, we’re locked inside the powder bathroom and he takes my root beer and his beer-beer, setting them on the vanity.
“Now.” He turns back and cages me in with a hand on either side of my head, leaning down where his crystal blues bore into mine. “I own The Knot. Not only do I own it, but everything I have is wrapped up in that place, not to mention a big-ass business loan. I can’t afford to get busted for allowing underaged patrons into my place. The law is the law. I had to search through an hour of fucking surveillance video to find out who let you in and, when I did, I had to fire him.”
I pull in a breath and whisper, “You fired him?”
“Yeah. He didn’t give one shit what your ID said or that it didn’t match a thing on you. He was only into the way you batted those long fucking eyelashes that probably made his dick hard.”
“Couldn’t you have given him a warning?” My voice rises, because he did not lie. I was so anxious to get in, I did flirt with the other bouncer. Maybe I should feel bad he lost his job, but it's not my fault he thought with his dick.
