The Problem With Heartache (14 page)

The stench of stale beer hit me and my feet stuck slightly to the carpet as I trod my way over to the stained mahogany bar. Again, a few people looked at me, but not many. The place was mainly patronised by guys in the uniform of the unemployed—checked shirts loosely framing their tanks, a three-day-old stubble gracing their jaws.

I pulled at a bar stool and tucked myself in, glancing at my watch. 1:29 p.m. I was thirty minutes early.

“What can I get you?” a feminine voice asked, and I looked up, straight into the eyes of the woman from six months ago. Carly.

We were meant to be together, Carly.

A smile flushed my face, and I could tell she remembered too, as her cheeks turned this bright red colour as she glanced down.

“Not saving kittens today?” I smiled. My eyes travelled over her shirt, her smooth décolletage, the buttons opened a little too low to her golden nametag pinned firmly over her round breast.
Carly.

“No.” Carly gave a small shrug. “I learned my lesson last time.” When she looked back up, I saw mischief in her eyes. “Although if I knew you were always going to be there to catch me …”

“I bet you say that to all the guys who crawl into your fine establishment here.” I looked around the room again. From the corner, I heard a series of belches. Looked like there was a burping contest underway.

“You’d be surprised.” She raised her eyebrows and flashed me another smile, and my insides shrivelled up into nothing. She was … she was a tall glass of water, refreshing, cool and clear, and I was a parched man.

“Can I grab a bourbon and Coke, please?” I asked, almost because I just wanted to speak to her again and was rapidly running out of clever things to say. Carly had that effect on me.

“Sure.” She nodded, and I let out a tiny breath of relief. I never usually had problems ordering booze in bars. Not since we got to number one. And even though most people would have been able to guess I was only nineteen, no one ever questioned my fake ID. That was one of the perks of being a rock star—you could afford the best in counterfeit.

Carly turned to the shelf behind her and stretched up high, so high that her black shirt rose, exposing an inch of gloriously tanned skin and cute little dimples that rested right over her—

“Single or double?” She looked back over her shoulder and winked. “Like what you see there, rock star?”

“Single.” I met her gaze dead-on. “One from you will be more than enough for me.”

She bit her lip and tension spiralled between us, thick as a forest, as she grabbed a bottle from the top shelf then walked over to me, placing the bottle on the counter and pulling a glass stacked with a block of ice out from under the counter.

After unscrewing the lid, she tilted the bottle upside-down, free pouring the amber liquid into my glass. It cascaded over the ice cube, a small drop spilling over the side and crawling down to the spotless counter beneath it. “Oops.” She extended a finger and swiped the drop up, then slowly took her finger to her mouth and sucked on it, her lips taking it down her throat and then slowly sliding back up again, her tongue swirling over the tip.

My dick twitched in my pants, and damn, it didn’t matter if I was there to meet my brother or the goddamn Pope, I would have left in a heartbeat if this chick asked me to.

I swallowed, and pulled at the collar of my shirt before she burst out laughing, a gay, joyous sound that had me smirking along with her. “What’s so funny?”

“You,” she breathed, mirth written all over her face. “Acting all sleazy, and then your face when I just went down on my finger.” She cracked up laughing again, and at first I frowned, then I couldn’t help but smile. She was right. What was I, a kid?

“Okay, you got me.” I nodded my defeat.

“Twice.” She grinned. “You just bought my most expensive bourbon.”

I laughed, because what else could I do? And it seemed the better option than saying I could afford it, which I now could thanks to the record deal. I glanced at the label, trying to make out the name.
Macallan
. At least, I hoped I could.

“So what brings you to Oak Lake?” Carly asked, topping my drink up with a small portion of Coke and then sliding it across the counter to me.

I wrapped my fingers around it, the condensation already dampening my skin. “Meeting someone.”

“Oh! Blind date?” She wiggled her eyebrows with a wicked grin, and I caught myself smiling—a-fucking-gain. It was as if I couldn’t help it around her. Her sense of fun was contagious.

“Kinda,” I agreed, because it seemed the easiest thing to do. “But I’m early.”

Carly narrowed her eyes at me. “How early?”

I looked at my watch again. “Now? Twenty-five minutes.”

Carly looked around the bar, and waved her hand in the air toward a guy standing in the back of the venue who was leaning against a chair and talking to a patron. “Aaron, I’m leaving. You good?”

He nodded and waved her off. I turned back to her, a quizzical expression on my face. “You just …”

“My shift finished at half past one, silly. I’m not walking out, if that’s what you think. Now let’s go.” She took a tea towel from her back pocket and draped it over a railing, typed in a few buttons on the register and then came around to the front of the bar to meet me. “Come on.” She grabbed my hand, linking her fingers through mine. “This will be fun.”

My brain told me to stay where I was, but I couldn’t hear it over my rapidly thumping heart, which wasn’t sure if it was about to get laid or fall in love. Either way, it wanted in, and my dick was more than keen to come to the party.

Carly led me through a few smaller rooms then one larger area set up for dining, until we pushed through a glass door out the back and reached a grassy knoll, overlooking a muddy, fast-flowing river. She dropped my hand and flopped down onto the grass, staring up at the sky, patting a spot of dirt next to her enticingly. Hell, it was a spot of dirt. The fact that she could even get away with making that look enticing? The woman was an angel.

I lowered myself to the ground and sat next to her, my legs bent at the middle. “So, what are we doing, exactly?”

“We are going on a practise blind date.” Carly nodded sagely. “To set you up for your real one.”

“Oh yeah?” I challenged. “And what makes you the dating expert?”

As soon as I posed the question, I tensed.
Why had I asked that?

“I have been dating since I was fourteen.” Carly placed her hands together in a praying fashion. “You should worship at my temple of seven years of dating knowledge.”

There was a whole heap of things I wanted to worship about her, and whatever she was calling it was fine with me. I opened my mouth to try and gain her sage dating advice, but Carly chose that moment to lean up on her elbows, offering me a view straight down her shirt and over her pink, lacy bra. Her thin, pink, lacy bra.

“Something wrong?” She pouted.

“Nothing.” I clamped my jaw shut. She moved, and I could see the faintest hint of darker pink where her nipple would be.
Nothing wrong at all.

“Okay, so … hi. I’m Carly.” She extended her hand. Now that she was speaking again, and with direction, I could stop trying to check her out like some sick pervert. She was single.
I’ve got this.
Be cool, Lee, be cool.

“Hi. I’m Lee.” I took her hand in mine and gave it a gentle shake. Her skin was cold to the touch, and smooth, like silk.

“No, you need to be more assertive with your shake.” Carly shook her head, still not letting go of my hand. “Like this.” She gave a firm pump and a squeeze.

“That wouldn’t make a girl feel intimidated?” I tilted my head to the side.

“Some of us like to be dominated, Lee.” There was darkness in her eyes, and I stared at the clouds again, trying to imagine her in a variety of unattractive positions. The problem was, even covered in dog shit I think it’d be difficult to find this woman anything less than sexy. I mean, I could always make her take a shower, right?

I swallowed. Images of her wet and soapy were not helping with my focus.

“So, Lee.” Carly broke my thoughts, and I snapped my attention back to her. “Tell me something that not many people know about you.”

I racked my brain for a suitable answer, something cool, something that would impress this incredibly attractive woman who was lying outstretched next to me. “I … my dad has Parkinson’s disease.” It was the first thing that came to mind, and from the clouds that shadowed Carly’s eyes, I knew it wasn’t the right answer.

“For a blind date? Probably go with something a little more light-hearted.” She bit her lip, but she reached out her hand and took mine again, stroking her fingers over my knuckles. It was the best and the worst feeling I’d ever had. Somehow, my lust had turned into sorrow.

We talked for hours on the lawn, laughing, smiling and just generally being alive. She made it easy to breathe. She made my stress about meeting my brother melt away.

My brother never showed up that day. But my love for Carly did.

Present day …

“L
EE-
FREAKING
-C
OLLINS
, if you don’t get your ass back-stage in five minutes, so help me God, I’m gonna come in there and piggy-back you out.” Kate’s voice came through the door, accompanied by her pounding fist. She’d only been on tour with us for three weeks, but already she had the whole ‘nagging tour girl’ routine down pat.

I flung the door open fast, so fast that her fist, which was coming down for a further knocking, instead pounded my naked chest, causing her cheeks to turn this damn cute shade of red that had me stifling a grin.

“I … um …” She looked down, to the left, to the right—anywhere but at my face, or more appropriately, my chest.

“You okay?” I asked, and this time I couldn’t stop my smirk. She was so freaking cute. She was driving me crazy. There was something about her—the way she went red at anything, the littlest of things … it was nice. When you had girls throw their underwear at you, if they bothered wearing any, seeing someone who got a little shy at touching your naked chest wasn’t just a rarity—it was something to be treasured.

Kate’s lips formed a thin line and she somehow managed to look around my chest before meeting my gaze head on. I shook my head; she should be used to it by now. Since she’d joined the tour, she’d seen me without a shirt on or with my shirt undone or raised no fewer than six times. And yes, I had orchestrated each of those appearances.

“You. In.” She pointed to the room behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder.

“In there?” I smirked again, but her cheeks didn’t get any redder, to my astonishment. “Is now really the time?”

She pushed against my chest, her steely eyes fixed on my face the whole time, then slammed the door behind us with her foot.

“If you wanted some private time together, you just had to say so,” I joked, leaning back against the chair that was positioned in front of the mirror in my dressing room.

“You think this is funny?” Kate asked, her head tilted to the side.

“Actually … yeah.” I nodded and smiled again, not unkindly.

Kate looked down, and for one God-awful moment I thought she was going to cry.

Then, she did something better than crying. Holy mother of crap sticks, was this better than crying.

She raised her hands to the top of her black button-up shirt—and she undid the top button. Creamy, white skin was exposed, defined collarbones, teasing my eyes down to—

She undid another button. Holy fuck, what was Kate doing? Her cleavage heaved in front of me, and I got a hint, just a hint of her black lacy bra.

“It cannot be a coincidence that one man is shirtless in front of me seven times in three weeks.”

I grinned. She’d counted.

That totally means she’s into it.

Then she did something that completely surprised me. Hell, it shocked the living daylight out of me. In one fluid movement, she grabbed the sides of her shirt and pulled, press studs popping open her entire top, and then she shrugged it over her shoulders so she stood there in the world’s hottest black, lacy bra, skin-tight black denim jeans and these shoes—how the hell did I not notice them before?—that were red, high, and sexy as sin.

I swallowed.

This girl was trouble.

Come on, Lee. Get your act together.
I tried giving myself a pep talk. I saw naked women on a regular basis.

But for some reason, seeing sweet, innocent, shy Kate standing there like that? It was doing things to me. Things that my body should not have been doing in response to my
employee
who had gone through enough emotional
trauma to last a goddamn lifetime. Who I couldn’t be with anyway. Not now.

And besides, the last thing she needed was a quick screw, someone like me using her up, too.

“So … this is a revenge …”
swallow
“… strip?”

“This is me trying to get you to pay attention and listen when I ask you to do something.” Kate’s voice was honey as it melted into me.