Wild Flame (The Wild: A Rock Star Romance Book 2)

by Micalea Smeltzer

  I go to slide the menu toward Kira but she shakes her hand in front of it. “No, thanks. I don’t think I can eat.”

  “They have soup,” I tell her.

  She sighs. “I know, but…”

  “Just get something and if you don’t feel like eating it no harm no foul. My treat,” I add, because I know she hates spending money on things she deems unnecessary.

  She sighs, picking at the edge of her fingers. A nervous habit I’ve noticed she has. The same way she bites her lip when she’s either anxious or turned on—there’s a difference in the way she bites it too, depending on which she’s feeling.

  “Fine,” she agrees.

  “So,” I begin, speaking to no one in particular as I look around at the neon lights on the wall, red and white booths that match the floor, and the retro garb the wait-staff wears, “did we step back into the sixties or something?”

  I half-expect Elvis Presley to jump out from somewhere.

  Mia laughs lightly, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. She leans unconciously into Hollis beside her. He smiles, noticing her need to be closer to him. “Something like that. It’s owned by this local guy. Cool, huh?”

  “It’s … something,” I say as a bunch of college girls shriek along to a One Direction song.

  Mia bumps Hollis’s shoulder. “You’re going to have to get up there and give these poor people’s ears a break.”

  He chuckles, ripping the paper apart that once held his straw. God, now I’m thirsty. How unfair they got here first and already have beverages. After all, I’m going to need a drink or two or even more to get through this night.

  I don’t fucking sing, ever, but I know the bastards will con me into getting up there. At least where I lack a voice I can make up for it in swagger.

  “I’ll get up there eventually … with you,” Hollis answers her.

  “Oh, no,” she protests swinging her arms wildly. “Not happening.”

  “Afraid?” Cannon asks, raising a brow.

  “Of killing everyone in here with the sound of my voice … um, yes,” she replies.

  Fox puts down his beer and I eye it enviously. Ever since the accident it’s been pretty much impossible for me to go through a day without at least one drink. It doesn’t erase the pain, the pain that even this many years later threatens to drown me, but it does dull it.

  “Come on, Mia,” he says to her, “you can’t be any worse than these people in here. Besides, of all of us Hollis and Cannon are the only ones who can sing.”

  “You sing?” Mia’s head swivels to Cannon at the head of the table. He looks like a fucking deer caught in headlights. I snort and turn it into a cough, but he glares at me anyway.

  “I don’t sing,” he replies in a deadly calm voice.

  “He does too,” I pipe in and his death glare narrows. “He just prefers to … use his fingers.” I mime playing the bass.

  Cannon shakes his head at me, muttering, “And you wouldn’t know what I can do with my tongue so shut up.”

  “Dad’s pissed,” I hiss loudly enough for him to hear.

  He tosses a rolled up napkin of utensils at me and I catch it easily—I’ve had enough practice tossing my drumsticks and a basketball, to become an excellent catch.

  “Nice try,” I say, slinging them back at him. They smack his chest and fall into his lap.

  “Boys, be good,” Mia scolds in an exasperated tone. “We’re here to have fun, not fight.”

  “Fine,” Cannon grumbles. “I can sing, but not at Hollis’s level.”

  “I see the rest of your party has joined you,” a waitress yells to be heard, and we cease talking to look at her. “What can I get you two to drink?”

  “Bud Light for me,” I answer—I’m a country boy, what can I say. “And a hot buttered rum for her.”

  “Actually a Coke for me.”

  “A coke and the hot buttered rum for her,” I correct while she glares at me. “Trust me,” I whisper to her. “It’ll help with the cold.”

  “Whatever,” she mumbles. She still has her winter coat wrapped around her despite the fact it’s two degrees away from hell in here, with all these people and the heat rolling out of the vents.

  “Are you all ready to order too?” she asks.

  After a nod of affirmation we all take turns giving her our food order.

  “I’ll put this right in.” She smiles, tapping her notepad against the wooden tabletop before walking away. She gives me a wink and I sit up straighter.

  She’s pretty in that homegrown small town sort of way. Sandy blond hair, curvy body, light clear skin. She looks like she’s college aged. She might even go to the University Mia and Kira attend. But … as pretty as she is and how only a few months ago I would’ve been quick to tap that, I won’t.

  I made a promise to the dark-haired beauty beside me that for as long as we were fucking each other it would be exclusive. I don’t make promises lightly, and I won’t break them on a whim.

  “She thought you were hot,” Kira says. There isn’t a trace of jealousy in her tone and for some reason it irks me.

  I shrug. “Babe, I can’t help it I’m this good-looking. I’m a stunner. The ladies like to look and I’m helpless to stop them.”

  “Yeah, you’re as helpless as a baby tiger.”

  I snap my teeth together playfully. “I didn’t pick my genetics.”

  “Just like you didn’t pick that cocky personality either.”

  I lift my dark grey Henley and flash her my abs. “When you’ve got it, flaunt it. Rules to live by.”

  “I’ll start walking through school naked then,” she jokes, but it falls flat when she starts to cough.

  I lean over and in a low voice I rumble in her ear, “Only if you want me to show up and haul you out of there. No one looks at what’s mine.”

  She gives my chest a shove. “I’m not yours.”

  “Like hell you aren’t. Maybe not forever, but right now, you are and I’m yours.”

  Her surprised brown eyes meet mine.

  “You’re crazy,” she says, but her voice is higher sounding and she looks away, wrapping her arms around herself.

  “Aren’t you hot?” I ask, changing the subject.

  She jerks back. “Excuse me?”

  I groan and tap her puffy black jacket. “You’re still in your coat.”

  “Oh … I forgot.” She slips it off and drapes it over the back of the chair, but leaves her scarf on. Without the coat she looks laughable in the scarf. It’s so big and chunky and she’s a tiny little thing drowning in it.

  “What now?” she asks, tilting her chin up at me in defiance. “You keep staring at me.”

  I grin. “You’re just so cute.”

  “Yes, my snotty nose is adorable. I’m glad to know that’s your kink.”

  I snort. “You know that’s not my kink.”

  Her cheeks redden. It’s a rare thing to make Kira blush, but I can’t help loving the way the scarlet color melts on her creamy skin.

  “Here are your drinks,” the waitress says, leaning heavily over the table so her arm brushes mine and she’s practically all up in poor Kira’s space.

  “Thanks,” I say tightly. “My girlfriend and I appreciate it.”

  She whips back so fast she nearly spills all three drinks she set down.

  “Need anything else?” she asks in a clipped tone.

  “Nope, we’re good. Aren’t we, sweetie?” I ask Kira, draping my arm over the back of her chair. My tone is oversaturated with ooey-gooey gummy sweetness as I try to make my point.

  “Just dandy.”

  After the waitress is gone, Kira and Mia say, “Girlfriend?” simultaneously.

  I raise my arms innocently. “She kept checking me out. I just needed her to stop. Can’t have Kira growing jealous and marking her territory like a mama bear. We’ve already been through that with Hollis.”

  Hollis groans, leaning his head back. “It was a fucking baby bear, and it barely scratched me.
Besides, it was you three who freaked and thought I’d get rabies. I was cool as a fucking cucumber.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I chant, picking up my beer. With my other hand I slide the rum toward Kira. “Drink up.”

  She glowers, but picks up the drink and takes a sip. “Not bad,” she admits. “Feels good on my throat.”

  “Told you. You know what else feels good on your throat?”

  “Don’t say it.”

  “My cum.”

  She kicks me under the table, how she does it with me beside her is beyond me, and I nearly choke on my beer. Some spews out of my mouth and onto my shirt.

  “No sex talk during dinner,” Mia warns, wagging a finger.

  “Where’s the fun in that?” I grumble.

  “Rush,” Cannon warns, his eyes narrowed and dangerous. He’s the fun police.

  “Yes, Dad? Are you going to ground me?”

  “Possibly.” Cannon crosses his massive arms over his chest. Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me if he did—not that I’d listen to him.

  Mia nudges Hollis. “Go sign up.”

  “Everybody’s doing it,” he warns at her pestering. “Not just me.”

  She glares at him. “No.”

  “We’re doing a duet.”

  She sighs. “Fine. Only if you go by yourself first.”

  “Don’t sign me up,” Kira begs. “My throat hurts.”

  Mia frowns. “You don’t sound good. I thought you just didn’t want to come.”

  “I’m coming down with something.” Kira shrugs miserably. “I was bound to get sick at some point. I can never make it through the winter without getting a cold or the flu.”

  “Fine, are we all in agreement Kira doesn’t have to go?” Mia asks and we all nod.

  “I’ll sit out for moral support,” I volunteer.

  Mia narrows her blue eyes. “Nice try.”

  “I’ll be back,” Hollis says, getting up to go add our names to the list, and undoubtedly pick our songs.

  “Hang on, I’m coming with you,” I say, suddenly knowing the perfect song to sing.

  I meet up with him and we give the guy working the machine everyone’s information.

  “Do you have Under the Sea on there?” I ask. “Like from The Little Mermaid?”

  Hollis flicks his head toward me. “Are you seriously going to sing that?”

  “Fuck, no, it’s for Cannon.”

  He chuckles. “I like the way you think.”

  “I occasionally have a brilliant idea or two.” I pretend to brush dust off my shoulders. I then tell the guy what song I want. All the panties in the bar are about to land on the stage when I go on—even if I can’t sing worth a shit.

  “All right, is that all of you?” the dude asks.

  “Yep,” I say, reading over it one last time and seeing that everyone’s down.

  “You’re going to embarrass the shit out of Kira,” Hollis warns as we head back to the table. “Possibly, turn her on.”

  “Oh, I’ll definitely turn her on.” I smirk, walking with even more swagger than before.

  He shakes his head. “The world broke the mold with you—that’s how the saying goes, right?”

  “Do I look like I know?”

  “True,” he agrees as we reach the table and sit down.

  “Food,” I groan in delight, finding my cheeseburger and fries waiting for me. “God, I’m starving.”

  Kira lifts a spoon of chicken noodle soup to her mouth. “Then shut up and eat.”

  I chuckle. “So, bossy. Me likey.”

  “You’re incorrigible.”

  “You give me so many openings. I’m helpless here.”

  “I don’t give you openings. You make them.”

  “I can’t disagree,” I admit, picking up my burger. I take a huge bite, suppressing a groan. I skipped lunch today and it was a mistake. It’s rare for me to miss a meal—I’m always hungry—but I decided I better hit the gym today while we had a break at the studio. I’ve been neglecting going, but at least sex counts as exercise. I get plenty of that.

  Hollis is halfway through eating his meal when it’s his turn to go on stage.

  “I’ll be back,” he says, hopping up.

  He moves through the crowd and disappears for a moment before we see him hop up on the stage.

  “This one’s for Mia.” He points her out and she covers her face.

  The music begins and she groans. “He didn’t.”

  “He did,” I confirm.

  She shakes her head. “First the Halloween costume, now this? Why does he have to do a Willow Creek song? There are a million other songs out there.”

  He sings the words to her, to the crowd, playing it up.

  They eat it up since he’s the first person to grace the stage that can sing, at least since I’ve arrived.

  When the song ends he crooks a finger at Mia. “Time to join me.”

  “Ugh,” she groans, pushing away from the table. “If it’s another Willow Creek song I’m stabbing him—y’all have been warned, that makes you accomplices.” She waves two fingers from her eyes to each of us. “If I go down you’re all going down with me.”

  “Is it a Willow Creek song?” Kira asks me once Mia’s out of earshot. She struggles to suppress a laugh. I spy her bowl and I’m pleasantly surprised to see almost half the soup already gone.

  “Wait and see.”

  “You suck.” She pouts, jutting out her bottom lip in an effort to sway the words from my lips. “Just tell me.”

  “There’s no fun in that, babe.”

  She looks toward the stage and we all wait for the music to start.

  As the opening notes to Dancing Queen by ABBA start, she shakes her head. “You two aren’t in charge of karaoke ever again.”

  “What’s wrong with this? Would you prefer Justin Bieber?”

  “Don’t diss Justin. I like him.”

  “Should I get you a cardboard cutout then?”

  “Yes—preferably shirtless.”

  “Well, babe, after you see my performance all you’ll be asking for is a cardboard cutout of Rush—but lucky you, you get the real thing.” I lean back in my chair, rubbing my abs through my shirt.

  “Did you just refer to yourself in third person?”

  “It seemed to work best to get my point across,” I defend.

  She reaches over and pats my chest mockingly. “Keep telling yourself that.”

  I capture her hand, holding it over my heart. “Keep pretending you don’t actually like me all you want—but you do.”

  “I never said I didn’t.” She snatches her hand away like she’s been burned.

  “Mhmm,” I hum. Lowering my voice, and my head to her ear, I say, “That’s why you push me away at every turn.”

  “You like this arrangement just fine or have you forgotten the rules? Just sex, no talking about personal things, and when one of us wants out that’s it.”

  “And do you want out?”

  “No,” she admits, crossing her arms and looking steadfastly away from me.

  “My point exactly.”

  I pull away from her and straighten in my seat as Hollis and Mia return to the table. I was so engrossed in Kira I didn’t pay one iota of attention to their performance. I’d planned on booing them. Everyone deserves at least one hater in life. Haters are motivators.

  “Your turn Foxy boy.” I smack Fox on the shoulder. With a roll of his eyes he stands. “I hate you all for this.”

  He pushes his chair back and heads for the stage. I swear one girl grabs his ass as he passes. Nope, not girl—cougar, definitely a cougar.

  Fox hops up on stage, rolling up the sleeves of his maroon shirt. He grabs the microphone and looks at the digital screen that shows the lyrics. The music begins and he speaks into the mic, looking directly at me. “You didn’t.” He glowers, looking positively deadly—but Fox couldn’t hurt a fly.

  “Tell me, what does the fox say?” I shout above the crowd, earning more than
a few looks of irritation.

  He shakes his head and begins singing very loudly and very off-key to the gimmicky song. It was everywhere a few years ago, and considering his name is indeed Fox, and not a nickname, how can we not torment him with it? It’s our duty as best friends to inflict endless torture.

  I clap loudly and then cup my hands around my mouth to shout, “That’s my Swiper-No-Swiping! Sing that song, Fox!”

  He glares back, promising punishment later. I’d like to see him try to punch me. It’s not happening. I might not be Cannon’s size, but I’m definitely bigger than Fox. Not that he isn’t muscular or anything, but he’s kind of a string-bean. Super tall, super lean. I could probably push him over with one finger if I really wanted … well, maybe not me but Cannon definitely could.

  Honestly, Cannon is who I’m afraid of when he learns what song I chose. He’ll know it’s me, not Hollis, because Hollis isn’t as much of a jerk as I am.

  There was a summer when we were children when Cannon watched the fucking The Little Mermaid movie—yeah the Disney one with redhead Ariel—every single day and knew every song by heart.

  In high school, he even joined musical theater.

  The blasphemy.

  I wonder what his drama teacher would think if she saw what the clean-cut Cannon looked like now—covered in tattoos and piercings, and no longer the baby-faced princeling he once was.

  Fox’s song ends and I turn to Cannon. “Your turn biker boy.”

  “Biker boy?” His pierced brow climbs up his forehead.

  I sigh dramatically, like I’m suffering at having to explain myself.

  “Because you look like a biker.”

  “There was an implied duh on the end of that,” Kira adds and I smile at her.

  She gets me.

  Cannon shakes his head, pulling his beanie lower over his ears. “Whatever.”

  “Cannon Rhodes, ladies and gentlemen.” I slow clap. “The man of few words and even less understanding of them.”

  He gives me the finger.

  Kira laughs beside me. “You love tormenting people, don’t you?”

  “I didn’t have siblings,” I explain, shrugging it off. “I’ve got to make up for it somehow.”

  She’s not amused.