by Lisa Suzanne
I grab a margarita for Emily and a rum and Diet Coke for my sister in an effort to be a good host. Rascal sidles up beside me at the bar, and I glance at the table where I left my food. Emily is sitting in the chair next to my plate, and Amber is on her other side. Another plate of food with an empty seat is on her other side, which tells me Rascal already claimed it.
“Didn’t I already tell you she’s off-limits?” I ask him.
“Does it really matter?” He rolls his eyes. “You’re gonna need someone to entertain her while you’re getting busy with her friend.”
I turn toward him with a glare. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
The bartender hands me my three drinks, and Rascal orders his next drink, another beer. I wait with zero patience for him to answer me.
I reach for the three drinks, but honestly it’ll be easier to just let Rascal carry one of them.
He finally turns toward me. “Dude, if you’re trying to make it seem like you’re not interested, do the opposite of what you’ve been doing.”
“Fuck off,” I mutter childishly.
“You want her?” he asks.
“No.” I make a face and shake my head like it’s a stupid thought when in reality I’m the stupid one for being so obvious. “She’s my annoying sister’s annoying friend.”
“Sure as shit doesn’t look annoying in that hot-ass dress she’s wearing.”
My hackles rise. I realize Rascal is one of my best friends, my brother in MFB, but talking about Emily that way makes me feel more than a little murderous.
“And, for the record, neither does your hot as fuck sister.”
“I’m literally going to kill you,” I say as the bartender hands him the beer. I shove the rum and Diet Coke at him.
He looks at the bartender. “You heard it here, barkeep. If I wind up dead tonight, it’s on this guy.”
I roll my eyes, hoping this isn’t foreshadowing at its finest.
CHAPTER 7: EMILY
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say softly when Adam sets a margarita down in front of me.
He presses his lips together like it was no big deal, and flutters race across my chest. Good God, this man is handsome. “Came free with dinner.”
“Well thanks for getting it for me.” I attempt a smile, but his eyes are focused down on his plate.
“Of course. There’s more where that came from, and you’re in Sin City, so help yourself to a good time.”
His tone is a little more clipped than it was earlier, and of course I immediately blame myself. Is it weird that I took the seat next to him? It wasn’t my idea, actually.
When we went to take our seats, Amber admitted she’s into Will—or Rascal, or whatever his name is. He definitely bulked up since the last time I saw him when he was just a skinny band nerd with fiery red hair, but now he’s grown into a man...so of course I told her to go for it. It leaves her brother’s attention wide open, which means maybe I can continue what I thought was a connection earlier, or at least I could try to form one now.
I didn’t tell her that, of course. No one wants to hear about your conquests with their siblings, but I’m sure she’d green light it if she knew my intentions.
Probably.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him.
He finally glances up at me, and when his eyes meet mine, I see a little turmoil there. I can’t help but wonder what changed. He was happy-go-lucky and flirty what seems like just moments ago, and now he’s conflicted, something obviously playing on his mind.
He shakes his head a little, and then he says, “Nothing. It’s fine.”
“You sure?” I ask, ducking my head a little as I try to get him to look at me again.
He does, and his eyes soften. “Yeah.”
“You know, you and I have something in common,” I say, my heart racing as I decide to just go for it.
“Oh?” he says. “What’s that?”
“Recent break-ups.”
He gives me a rueful smile. “Welcome to the club. How recent?”
I twist my lips and clear my throat. “Two days ago.”
He winces a little. “Oh Jesus, that’s fresh.”
I nod. “Yeah, it is, but can I tell you a little secret?”
A smile plays at his lips and he leans in a little conspiratorially. “I like secrets.”
I lower my voice to a whisper. “I think I’m already over that cheating son-of-a-bitch.”
He lets out a loud bark of a laugh, and I can’t help it when his laugh makes me laugh, too.
“Are you over your ex?” I ask.
He looks thoughtful for a beat. “There are more easy days now than there used to be.”
That doesn’t really tell me anything. So is he over her or not? “That’s good to hear, but the hardest part is going to be when I get back to San Diego and have to move all my stuff out of his place.”
“Ouch. Need help?”
I arch both brows. “You offering?”
He shrugs.
“Aren’t you on tour?”
He nods. “Yeah, but we’re in Vegas tomorrow and the next night, and then we have almost a week off.”
“Oh. So you actually can come help me.” I glance over at him with more than a hint of curiosity in my eyes. Does he really want to help me move? Or is he just being polite? I tend to think the latter because no one really ever wants to help someone move. But I’ll take the help because not only do I not want to face Chad alone, but having Adam there—someone I know Chad will be jealous of—makes it feel that much sweeter.
“Yeah, I really can.” His eyes meet mine and something passes between us that transcends the words we’re speaking. It’s something hot and unfamiliar and definitely not just in my imagination this time.
And somehow it breaks the inexplicable ice I didn’t realize had formed between us.
He further breaks that barrier with his next question. “Are you really doing okay?” His voice is low, like it’s just for me, but it’s also full of concern.
I shrug. “Yeah.”
“How’d you find out he was cheating?”
I shake my head and roll my eyes. “The idiot left his phone next to me unattended and she texted him. Turns out the girl he’s been banging behind my back is one of my closest friends.”
“Was.”
I glance over at him. “What?”
“She was one of your closest friends.”
I can’t help my laugh. I should be embarrassed about the fact that someone cheated on me, like somehow it’s my fault. Deep down I know it’s not, but the freshness of finding out still sits over me like a cloud.
“Right. I don’t exactly see myself hanging out with that cunt for thirsty Thursday anymore. Or my fuckwit of an ex.” My eyes widen at my use of the “C” word, a word that isn’t part of my usual vocabulary but nonetheless accurate here.
He barks out another loud laugh at my word choice, and my stomach flips. I adore the sound of his loud laugh, and I love being the one to cause it.
But I also love that I can confess how I really feel to him. Maybe I shouldn’t be telling him these truths, but he’s just easy to talk to. The words seem to tumble out of my mouth unfiltered as I express to him things I haven’t even told his sister—the person who happens to be my best friend in the whole world.
“It’s just weird to think that I don’t have a boyfriend anymore. You know?”
He nods. “I remember that same void when Bree and I ended things. I still feel it sometimes.” He focuses his gaze down on his drink for a beat before he looks back at me. “Dax and Brody have been trying to get me to hook up with randoms, but it’s not my thing. I think I’m just more of a relationship guy, you know?”
The flips in my stomach seem to calm at that. It’s not like he’s asking me for a relationship, and it’s not like I’m ready to get into one after what just happened with Chad. All thoughts of a fun hook-up with Adam Wilson, lead guitarist of MFB, dash out of my mind at his word
s.
And truthfully anyway, I think I’m more of a relationship type of girl, too. I’ve never really done the one-night stands and random hook-ups...even though the thought of just exactly that with Adam is tempting.
More truth spills out of me. “I’m the same way, and I think that’s why I stayed with Chad as long as I did. I wasn’t ready to be single even though some small part of me saw the end coming.”
“You did?”
I nod. “I’d gotten comfortable with our relationship, you know? I didn’t expect it to end the way it did, and I hadn’t really thought about ending things, but I also didn’t see myself marrying him.”
“You didn’t?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“I saw myself marrying Bree.”
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, and he shrugs.
“It was for the best. I don’t want to marry someone just because we’ve been together a long time and it’s the next logical step. I want to marry someone because I’m so in love that I can’t imagine my life without her. You know?”
I nod. “Marriage is supposed to be once and forever. At least that’s what I’ve always wanted out of my future. So I think what happened with Chad and me was for the best, too.”
“I do, too.”
My heart races as I wonder whether he feels that way because now we can have a shot together. Surely I’m seeing what I want to see...right? “You do?”
He nods. “You deserve so much better than some asshole who sleeps with one of your friends.”
“Yeah, but doesn’t every girl deserve better than that?”
He lifts a shoulder. “Maybe, but especially you.” His eyes burn into mine.
I lift a hand to my chest, and I’m just about to ask him why me when Amber nudges me, breaking the moment between her brother and me.
I glance over at her and notice that Rascal is no longer sitting on her other side.
“I think he’s into me,” she whispers so her brother doesn’t overhear.
“Of course he is. You’re smart, you’re funny, and you’re gorgeous. What’s not to be into?”
She tilts her head as she looks between her brother and me. “Adam?” she says so sweetly that I nearly get a cavity.
“Yes, Amber?”
“How mad will you be if I hook up with your friend?”
He laughs. “Considering I warned him you were off-limits, I’d be kind of annoyed, but more at him than you.” He shifts his gaze to me. “Though I think you should really make sure it’s a good idea before you get into something you can’t take back.”
It feels strangely like he’s issuing me a warning even though he’s talking to his sister.
But I don’t need a warning. Not when it comes to Adam Wilson, the boy I’ve had a crush on since middle school. The boy half the women in America have a crush on now that they know his name because of a little reality show called Rock on the Road paired with the success of MFB.
“I know what I’m doing, Adam,” she says snidely. “We’re just gonna have a little fun.”
“Is that all?” he asks, his eyes still hot on mine. We just admitted how similar we are in that we both are relationship-type people, but he’s definitely sending off signals that he’s up for a little fun this weekend...with me. Or maybe he’s sending even stronger signals for something that could last beyond the few days we’ll be here in Vegas. I’m not sure yet, and all the margaritas are starting to impair my judgment, but after what I just went through with Chad and after what he’s been through with Bree...maybe we could just have a little drunken fun together and then move on.
“Yes. That’s all.” Her voice is still snide beside me, and I’m not so sure I’d have given him the same answer she just did.
CHAPTER 8: ADAM
Time seems to have sped up.
One minute I’m warning Emily that hooking up isn’t a good idea through my words to my sister, and the next we’re finishing our appearance at the club at the MGM after singing onstage with Vail—which, by the way, was fucking incredible. I lost count of how many drinks I’ve had, not to mention how many times I’ve been to the bar to refill Emily’s margarita, but I’m on a goddamn high and I don’t want to come down.
She wants me, and the way her eyes fell to mine when I issued the warning that she should make sure she knows what she’s getting into tells me she’s on board for some fun even though we just confessed to one another that neither of us is into random hookups. Maybe that’s what makes this such a good idea, or maybe it’s a terrible idea and it’s the alcohol talking.
Either way, I feel like a new man around her. I’m annoyed as I look over and see Rascal’s tongue in my sister’s mouth, but aside from that, I feel lighter than I’ve felt in months and I’m just buzzed enough that I don’t really care what Rascal or Amber are doing, even if what they’re doing is each other. It’s keeping my sister entertained so I can entertain Emily.
I’m chalking the good feelings up to the fact that I don’t have to reject other women this evening. It looks like I’m with someone since Emily’s been hanging out with me while the friend she came here with is otherwise occupied.
Not that I mind.
In fact, I’m having a great time with her. It’s still innocent, but I think we both know what’s happening here. Just because it’s starting innocently doesn’t mean that’s how it’s going to end.
That’s not how I want it to end, anyway.
On that note, I nod toward the bar. “Still want margaritas?” I ask.
She shakes her head slowly, a smile spreading across her face.
I raise a brow, and she mirrors me by raising one back in a challenge.
“Tequila shots.” Her grin is enough to convince me.
I’m either drunk or trying to impress the girl, because sober Adam would never agree to tequila shots. I know it’s a bad idea, but I nod like it’s the best idea I’ve heard all night.
So we’ll get a little wasted, and tomorrow we’ll recover. I’m a fucking rock star, and it’s time to live up to that title.
I place my hand on the small of her back and guide her over to the bar. “Two shots of your best tequila,” I tell the bartender. He dumps some liquid from a black bottle into two shot glasses and brings them over with two limes and a saltshaker. It’s all on the house since I’m with the band, but I toss a hundred dollar bill on the counter anyway.
“Salt?” I ask.
Her brows draw down and she shakes her head like salt’s for the weak. I laugh, and then I hand her a shot glass and grab one for myself.
“To a night we’ll always remember,” I say. She clinks her glass to mine, and we both tip the glasses back. The irony of the familiar toast isn’t lost on me considering we’re partaking in tequila, or as I like to call it, the nectar of memory removal. I don’t know how many shots she’s planning, but after the Guinness from earlier and the whiskey that followed, I’m well on my way to blacking out.
The tequila burns down my throat, warming my chest, and I can’t help my wince at the bitter taste.
Emily laughs and hands me a lime. “Not a tequila guy?”
I suck on the lime as I shoot her a grateful look, and I note that she doesn’t suck on the other lime. “It’s not my favorite.”
She’s still laughing. “Then why’d you drink it?”
I’ve got nothing to lose with the truth. “To impress the girl.”
Her eyes glaze over at my words, and we stare each other down for a few hot seconds before I can’t take the crazy lust that’s been scorching between us anymore and I have to fucking do something about it.
I wrap one hand around her neck and haul her a little closer to me, our faces mere inches away. I feel the heat of her tequila-flavored breath against my lips, a little tremble running through her at my proximity and surprise in her eyes as I move closer toward her. Our noses brush, and then I close my eyes and my mouth collides with hers.
Her lips are two velvet pillows. My other arm wraps
around her body, my palm on her ass as I pull her against me. It’s a reflex when I push my hips against hers, and the softest little kitten moan escapes her, something I wouldn’t have been able to hear over the music but for the exact right timing of a quiet beat in the song.
Her tongue presses to the seam of my lips, and I open my mouth to hers. Her mouth is sweet, just like her, yet it’s full of temptation...also like her, something I never noticed until tonight.
I kiss her with all the pent-up passion I’ve been saving for someone like her over the past few months, and as her tongue meets mine stroke for stroke and her hands reach under my shirt to graze the bare skin of my back, I start to wonder whether she’s exactly what I’ve been waiting for.
We kiss for minutes or seconds, I’m not sure, but I’m lost in this new world that I don’t want to leave until someone bumps into my back, killing the moment.
I turn around without moving my palm from Emily’s sweet ass to give the offender a solid piece of my mind for interrupting us, and I come face to face with Kane.
“You sure shoving your tongue down your little sister’s best friend’s throat is the best idea, man?” he asks in my ear so she can’t overhear.
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I do. So fuck off and don’t interrupt.”
He laughs. “How much have you had to drink?”
I shrug. “A few.”
“You’re slurring.”
“And you’re ugly.”
“Good one, Wilson,” he says. “Sierra and I are taking off. You need help getting back to the hotel?”
I shake my head. “We’re not ready to leave just yet.”
“All right. Call me if you need me.”
“Are Dax and Brody still here?”
“They’re signing some autographs but said they’re heading out. I think they want to play more blackjack. Just don’t get too drunk. We’ve got a show tomorrow night.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, rolling my eyes. He’s the practical one, and he often forgets about the stories we’ve heard from the eighties and nineties rock and roll bands who played drunk and high and bleeding and broken. I get it—times have changed, and we’re not as stupid as they were, but a little hangover isn’t going to change the way I play guitar. We’re fucking leagues away from what the legends of this business used to do.
