LOVIN’ ON YOU
Fabiola Francisco
Copyright © 2017 Fabiola Francisco
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Books by Fabiola Francisco
Dedication
Part One
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Part Two
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
Bonus Scene
Sweet on Wilde ~ Sneak Peek
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Perfectly Imperfect
Restoring Series
Restoring Us (Complete Series)
Resisting You (Aiden and Stacy Novella)
Sweet on You Series
Sweet on Wilde
Whiskey Nights
Red Lights, Black Hearts
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This book is for my tribe.
For being the amazing people you are and always supporting and loving me unconditionally.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
You make this journey through the book world that much better.
Also, you encouraged me to dedicate this book to Sam Hunt when this one was always intended for you.
With that being said, to Sam Hunt for being the perfect muse.
I’m going to kill her. Who the hell gets into the kind of trouble she does. Of course she calls me at two in the morning to rescue her because she can’t call her parents. Well, I’m going to call her dad if she continues to pull these stunts.
I jump out of my car and walk straight into the bar, ignoring the bouncer when he yells, “Hey!”
I scan the almost empty bar and find her.
“Let’s go!”
“Hey! Oh, did you just roll out of bed or something?” She furrows her eyebrows at me.
I glare at her. For being only twenty years old, my little cousin is a pain in the ass.
“What do you think? You call me at two in the morning that you’re stranded at a bar downtown, begging I pick you up, because you’re too afraid to take a cab by yourself.” I don’t even try to hide my annoyance. Jen’s eyes bug out, and she quickly regains herself as I mention her fear.
At the same time, I hear a deep chuckle. I look over Jen’s shoulder and find the source of laughter. I glare as he puts his hand on her shoulder. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
“Babe, I would’ve taken you home.” He winks. Who is this guy? “You didn’t have to wake up grandma here.”
That’s it!
“What the hell is your problem? First of all, get your hands off my little cousin. She’s not even legal. Give me your fake ID.” I look at Jen as I hold my hand out.
“Seriously?”
“Oh, I’m fucking serious. I’m tired of your charades. Return it or I’m calling your dad.”
“You wouldn’t.”
I grab my phone and click on his name, ready to hit call. Jen stares at me, daring me to call him. I hit call and let it ring on speaker. Her brown eyes widen and she fumbles for her purse. I end the call and take her ID.
“Secondly . . .” My phone vibrates in my hand cutting me off. “Hello? Oh, hey Uncle Jim. No sorry, I must’ve dialed you by mistake in my sleep . . . Okay. Sorry to wake you . . . Yeah, she’s home. I’ll let her know. Bye.”
“Wow. So, grandma can lie like a pro.”
“Secondly,” I ignore his comment. “You do not offend women by calling them older than they are. Do I look like a grandma?”
“Babe, those PJs are something my great-grandmother would wear.” I stare down and shrug.
“So, I like to be comfortable when I sleep.”
“Hey, as long as you’re happy. So, Jen, you coming with me?”
“Oh, no. After you dragged my ass here to pick you up, you’re going home.”
“Sorry, Ryder. Let me take her home before she loses her shit. I’ll hang out with you and Cash another night.”
Great, there are two of them.
“Yes, there are two of us.” Some guy steps around the corner of the bar, and I hadn’t realized I said that out loud. I’m tired. He looks at my attire and tries to hide his smile. At least he seems more polite than his friend.
“Jen, let’s go. I have to be up in a few hours.”
“So why not simply stay up and have some fun? Chances are, if you go back to sleep, you’ll be more exhausted in the morning.” The new guy says.
“Sorry, kid. Bar’s closing.”
“I’m as much a kid as you are a grandma.” He smiles slowly. “What’s your name?”
“None of your business. Jen, I’m leaving.”
I turn and walk away. I hear her heels clicking behind me. Good choice.
“Damn, Olivia, did you have to embarrass me like that in front of Ryder? Do you even know who he is?”
“No, and I don’t care. You need to stop getting into these messes. You came to a bar with one guy who was supposedly the man of your dreams. Then, he leaves your ass and I have to pick you up. Only to find you flirting with some god-like man.”
“He is hot, isn’t he?” I roll my eyes. To be twenty again.
“Jen, I love you, but you need to get your shit together. You start your third year of college in a few weeks. I know you’re young and want to have a blast living your life. I get it, been there, done that. Believe it or not. But take it slow.”
“I believe it, but you’ve lost it lately. I know you’re depressed or whatever,” she waves her hand in the air. “But like, come out with me one night. Ryder is the guitarist for Rebel Desire and Cash is the lead singer. I think he liked you.”
“I’m tired, Jen. I’m tired.”
She sighs and looks out the window. “You’re always tired.”
I was so excited when Jen decided to move in with me after high school. We have been living together for two years. Despite the age difference, we have always been close. Now, I feel like I have a twenty-year-old daughter. That means I would have birthed her at eight. No way.
I get it all comes with the territory of being in college and being the cool one with the fake ID, but I don’t want her to get hurt unnecessarily.
“Your dad wanted me to remind you about lunch tomorrow.”
“Got it.”
I pull up to our townhouse, and Jen rushes in. I sigh and lock the door behind me. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror at the entrance of my home and cringe. I do look like a grandma. Worse. I think my grandma had more style than me. I walk up the stairs, shutting off all the lights on the way there and make my way to the maste
r bedroom at the end of the hall. All by my lonesome self.
“Here.”
I look at Jen and back down at my bed. “What is that?”
“It’s a dress. Duh.”
I roll my eyes. I know it’s a dress. “I meant, why did you throw it on my bed?”
“It’s for you. Put it on; we’re going out.” I merely stare at her with wide eyes waiting for her to explain. Jen sighs and relaxes her shoulders. “It’s Tequila Thursday.” Apparently, that’s all the explanation I need.
“I work in the morning.”
“Eh, you’re flexible on Fridays. I promise it will only be us. No cocky boys or hooking up.” I arch my brow and she laughs. “I promise! You just need to get out of this house for once. Remember how much fun you can have. Even at the ripe age of twenty-eight.”
“Screw you.” I give her a side look and she laughs.
“So that’s a yes. Fix your hair, put on make-up, and here . . .” She walks into my closet. “Put on these shoes.”
As Jen walks out of my room she yells, “We leave in one hour.”
I sigh and jump in the shower. I know deep down she means well and this is her way of getting me out of my “depression.” Her words. I’m not depressed. I work a lot of hours. I’m tired, not emotional. I close my eyes under the spray of water and get ready for a night out on the town. Not sure about tequila, but I could use a drink.
Jen whistles when I walk down the stairs. “You look hot!” I shrug and bite down my smile.
“Thanks.” The wine-red dress she lent me fits perfectly.
“Come on. Our Uber is about to get here.”
“So you’ll Uber and not cab?”
“You’re with me, so I won’t be alone with a stranger. I’ve heard horror stories.”
“Really?”
“Okay, I’ve read them. When I was little. What was that movie with the cab driver serial killer?”
I laugh and open the door. “Let’s go. I’ve got my firearm carrier permit.”
“You’re not carrying your gun, are you?”
I shrug.
“You’re crazy,” she says. I laugh behind her.
“Does it look like my gun fits in this purse?”
“You’re right.”
I was expecting to see mostly college-aged people out tonight, but there are quite a few people closer to my age out drinking, too. The Nashville night scene is rocking. Where have I been living?
Jen comes back from the bar holding two shots and two margaritas. “If you don’t want the night to end in the next ten minutes, you won’t have me drink that shot.”
“It’s one shot.”
“Tequila to kill ya. Tequila and I are frenemies. I only take her in my margaritas.”
“Seriously.”
“Yup.” I grab both margaritas and let her take the shots. Jen stares at me but throws them back and begins dancing. The music is a mix of country songs with hip-hop beats. Whoever the DJ is, he knows what he is doing. Never would I have combined Luke Bryan and Nelly. I stop analyzing the music and have fun. After two more margaritas, Jen and I are laughing and singing at the top of our lungs. It’s the perfect girl’s night.
“Thanks for bringing me out,” I tell Jen, once we sit back in the car taking us home.
“I’m glad you came. I was ready for a fight, but you agreed easily. You see how much fun we can have?”
“I know.” I put my head on her shoulder.
“Hey,” a groggy Jen says as she goes straight for the coffee maker.
“Good morning, sunshine!”
“How are you so perky?” She groans as she fills her mug.
“Good drinking genes.” She stares at me blankly. “It’s true. I can drink and hardly get hung over. Also, a bottle of water and Ibuprofen before bed are golden.”
“Thanks for that tip last night,” Jen says sarcastically.
I shrug and continue working from the couch. I lose focus every few minutes at Jen’s groaning. I shush her and work on my client’s advertisement.
I decided to go freelance with my own graphic design company almost a year ago so I can have more balance in my life. Instead, I have ended up working more hours than before and have no social life. Jen says I use my work as an excuse to hide. I tell Jen this career allowed me to buy a townhome and allows her to live in it almost rent-free. So, I’m a homebody . . .
“I’m going to be sick.”
“That’s it. Let’s go.” Jen looks at me. I continue, “Get dressed. And shower.” I feel my face cringe in disgust. “Sorry.” I shrug my shoulders.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Pizza and Coke. Best hangover cure.”
We sit at a booth in Carl’s Pizza and I watch Jen chug her Coke and get a refill. Once the pizza arrives, she devours it within minutes.
“Better?” I laugh and finish off my slice.
“Grease, bread, and soda. Much better. Thanks, Liv.”
“Anything beats seeing you miserably hungover and not letting me work.”
“What are you working on?”
“I’m finishing a series of ads for Nashville General Hospital.”
“Wow. That’s a pretty big client.”
“It is, and it’s my first project with them. They need to be perfect.”
“They will be.”
I nod. “I’m also working on some smaller projects.”
“That’s great! Oh, remember that this Sunday is Country Fest!” She switches topics in excitement.
“How could I forget? Bri is going to meet us at the house. You need to be up early.” Country Fest is the music festival to attend. A full day of country music, drinking, and good times. This is when every music lover gets together and bonds over their love of music and Fireball. I’ve been going for years and Jen has come with me the last two years.
“I will, I will. Alarm clock is set.”
“Two days before. I’m impressed.”
“Yeah. Guess who’s playing!” I should be afraid of the twinkle in her eye. It’s mischievous. “Rebel Desire.”
“Cool.”
“I can’t wait to see Ryder up on stage. He’s been texting me constantly since we met.”
“You mean for a whole week? Major points for commitment. Text messaging.” I shake my head. What happened to phone calls and real conversation? Something more than, Hey babe. Send me a picture of your outfit. At least that’s what Nathan used to do when we were together. It probably should have been a sign that he was a first-class asshole. I still dated him.
“Don’t be mean. He’s actually a cool guy. What did you think about Cash? He’s hot, right? Did you check out his arms? Drool.” I laugh at Jen and close her mouth with my hand.
“He is good-looking.” I shrug it off with indifference. Truth is, the night I met them I couldn’t stop myself from opening my phone browser and googling all things Rebel Desire to learn more about Cash. From his arms to his hazel eyes, I stayed awake replaying his smirk and how he eyed my pajamas. Ugh, there’s no hope for me. Pajamas! At a bar in Downtown Nashville. No wonder the bouncer called out after me.
“Ready?” Jen asks.
“Um, yeah.” I shake all thoughts of Cash out of my head. We leave and I go back to working on the couch.
We turn around and giggle as some guy catcalls after us. It’s totally immature and gross, but when you’ve been drinking and wearing short-shorts and boots, you let things slide. Country music blares through the speakers as we wait for the show to start.
Rebel Desire is set to kick-off the concert. They were a late addition, which is why I didn’t know they’d be playing. I’m not that familiar with their music, since they’re now kicking off their public profile, but I did my research.
We go back to our spot on the lawn, grateful that no one moved our stuff. We asked an older couple if they could watch it while we grabbed some more beers, but this place gets insane and you never know who will actually respect your space.
Jen looks at
her phone and squeals, just like a schoolgirl. “It’s almost time! I can’t wait.”
“Girl, you need to play a little more hard-to-get and a little less desperate groupie,” Bri advises. Jen rolls her eyes and types on her phone at hyper speed.
“She’s crazy,” Bri tells me, as if I didn’t already know.
“Remember when we were twenty?” I ask.
“Hell yeah. Remember that time we drove to Knoxville and snuck into a frat party?”
“Yes! Good times. We totally lied and then got caught when one of the girls from that sorority ratted us out.”
“We did have fun though. Those frat boys were hot. You think we can still pull the college card?”
“And go for a twenty-one-year-old?” My eyebrows pull together in amusement.
“Why not? Something different.” I laugh and sit on our blanket. Bri has been dating her boyfriend for years now, but he’s deployed. It’s hard on her sometimes, but she’s stronger than I would be.
“You done sexting?” I tease Jen.
“I don’t need to sext. Tonight, I’m really sexing.”
I make a gagging sound. “I don’t want to know.”
“You sure? I can brag all about Ryder’s di—”
“Stop! No bragging. Please. I know you’re a grown-up now, but you’re still my little cousin and some things I don’t want to know.” Jen laughs and shrugs.
“It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Just don’t be a groupie slut.” I’m serious.
“Liv, I’m not that loose. So, I like to flirt. You know I’m careful, but I also want to have fun. Ryder’s in a band. He doesn’t have to give me his heart, but I don’t want to sit on the sidelines and wait for perfect timing. If it feels right and the night leads that way, great, but I’m not as naïve as you think I am.”
“Don’t get hurt in the process of fun.”
“I promise. Now you promise me to have fun in the process of moving from the sidelines.”
“She’s got something there,” Bri pipes in.
Rolling my eyes, I’m grateful when they begin announcing the band. I’m not on the sidelines. Right now, I’m front and center for the concert thanks to waking up early and making sure we get a good spot.
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