by Mari Carr
“The way I smell?”
“Coconut and apples.”
“Oh. Yeah. I ran out of shower gel before shampoo. Decided to switch up scents.”
He leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “Do we have to have a reason besides the ones I gave you?”
She looked up at him and for a second, he thought he was going to win. He should have known better.
“Yes. We do. Do you want to date me?”
Did he? He hadn’t really considered such a thing. Given the fact he’d just been handed his dream come true on a platter career-wise, he wasn’t sure embarking on a relationship was such a great idea. He needed to concentrate on the competition.
“I don’t know,” he hedged, employing the old toss-the-question-right-back method. “Do you want to date me?”
She shook her head. “Hell no. You’re a womanizer. A player. A musician with three groupies waiting outside that door to go do some sort of orgy shit.”
He would have laughed at her orgy comment if he wasn’t so pissed off by the rest. “Nice to know you think so highly of me.”
“See,” she said, trying to break free of his grip. He didn’t let go. “This is what I mean, Hunter. Things that don’t bother us as friends would drive us nuts if we were dating. You view commitment as if it’s the plague.”
“Better that than your approach to relationships. You can’t spend five minutes alone with a single man without cataloguing all his pros and cons and analyzing whether or not he’s husband material. Every date doesn’t have to end with a marriage proposal.”
“I don’t do that.”
“You kind of do,” he said, still feeling the need to defend his honor. “You know I don’t fuck every woman I go out with.”
She lifted her eyebrows haughtily. “You kind of do.”
“Right, so no more kissing. Got it.”
Hunter let go of her, stepping away to give her room to walk to the door.
He expected her to storm out, but instead, she turned to look at him. “Are we in a fight?”
Just like that, the steam cooled. He shook his head. “No, mouse. We’re not.”
“So you’re not mad at me?”
Her question was one hundred percent Ailis. She hated confrontations, hated thinking someone she cared about was upset with her. And as much as her words stung, he wasn’t going to lie and deny there wasn’t some truth behind them. Not as much as she thought, but that wasn’t her fault. He’d spent the better part of the last year bragging about his conquests to her. If she thought he was a player, it was because he’d painted the damn picture for her.
“Not even a little bit mad.”
“Good. Because we have a ton of work to do to get you ready for this competition.”
“Are you allowed to help me?”
“Les fired me as his assistant before you hit the first chorus of ‘Maybe Tomorrow’. He insisted I help you instead. All the other competitors have agents. He said it wouldn’t be fair if you didn’t have the same.”
“Is that going to be a conflict of interest? I mean, your folks are sort of the prize.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll mention that to Les. I mean, it’s not like I can really sway the results of the contest in any way. The winner is selected by the fans. They’re voting with an app and the results are going through an accounting firm. Management has zero control over the outcome. I’ll be honest, Hunter, Les doesn’t…” She hesitated.
“He doesn’t think I’ll make it beyond the first show, so he figures what’s the harm in letting you help, right?”
She nodded. “Plus, me helping you sort of serves his purpose more than me being his assistant.”
“How so?”
“It’s giving me a chance to manage talent. Something Les insists is my calling.”
Hunter considered the way she’d helped him all day. “I don’t think he’s wrong about that.”
She snorted. “God, not you too.”
“I’m glad Les is cool with it because I really want—no, I need your help. Desperately.”
“It’s yours. As long as you stop kissing me.”
He rolled his eyes, walking toward her, getting a kick out of the way she watched his approach with equal parts alarm and desire. They might not be compatible personality-wise, but physically, there was definitely a powerful pull. He bent down until his face was only a few inches from hers.
“I’m not going to make any promises about that.”
She released an exasperated breath. “Even after everything we just discussed.”
“What can I say? You’re a thinker. I’m a doer.” And to prove that point, he planted one more hard kiss on her lips before leaving her alone in the storage room.
By the time she emerged, the flush in her cheeks had faded, and he’d given the three groupies the brush-off.
“Hunter Maxwell?” a man seated at a table near the front said, capturing not only his attention, but Ailis’s.
“Yeah.”
“Congratulations on the competition.” The man wasn’t sitting alone. He shared the table with another guy with long hair pulled back in a ponytail, a serious rocker chick with long jet-black hair and quite a bit of ink, and a Taylor Swift wannabe with a small dog in a purse on her lap.
Ailis pointed to the dog and the woman clutched it closer. “Emotional support pet,” she spat out.
“Okay,” Ailis said. “Would he like a bowl of water?”
The woman relaxed her grip, her scowl fading. “No. Thank you.”
“Do I know you?” Hunter asked the man who’d spoken to him.
The man shook his head. “No, but you’re going to.” He stood and held out his hand. “I’m Victor Rodriguez. And these are my friends, Robbie Pierson, Rory Summit, and Leah Valladares. We’re in the February Stars competition as well.”
Hunter shook Victor’s hand as he studied all their faces again. Robbie and Leah appeared curious about him, while Rory looked downright bored. “Nice to meet you.”
“What are you doing here?” Ailis asked.
“Checking out the competition,” Victor explained. “Les told my agent this afternoon he was holding an audition for the last spot. We thought we’d come give you a listen since none of us has ever heard of you.”
“You’re Sky Mitchell’s daughter, aren’t you?” Leah asked.
Ailis nodded. “Yes, I am.”
Leah gave Victor an “I told you so” look that instantly put Hunter’s back up. “Guess that explains that.”
“I’m sorry?” Hunter said.
Victor smirked. “We couldn’t figure out how a nobody pub singer landed a spot in the competition. Looks like all he had to do to get his big break was fuck Sky’s daughter.”
One minute, Victor was standing in front of him. The next he was sprawled out on the floor. Hunter couldn’t recall throwing the punch, but given the way Tris and Padraig were pulling him away from the man, it was apparent he had.
Ewan had come over from Sunday’s Side and he was helping Victor to his feet. “I think it would be a good time for you and your friends to clear out of here.”
“Why us?” Victor snarled. “He’s the one who threw the punch.”
“Defending my niece’s honor,” Ewan explained. His expression was deadly. Her cousin and uncles had heard the insult.
Robbie, who’d been quiet through the entire melee, rose from his seat and gestured toward the exit. “Come on, guys,” he urged the others. “Let’s go.” He glanced at Ewan. “We don’t want any trouble.”
“Then I suggest you not come back,” Ewan said softly.
Robbie nodded and walked out with Victor and the blonde with her damn dog, while the rocker chick held back.
Tris and Padraig didn’t loosen their grip until the trio was completely out of the pub.
“I’m okay,” Hunter said. “You can let go.”
“Pretty sure holding you back is the only thing keeping me from going after that son of a bitch myself,�
�� Padraig said.
“Oh sure,” Ailis said, throwing her hands up. “Now you’re willing to fight to the death for me. Where was that response twenty minutes ago in the storage closet?”
Padraig grinned, while the expressions on Tris’s and Ewan’s faces darkened. Hunter might have dodged a bullet with the cousin, but the uncles wouldn’t be as easy to sidestep.
“What about the storage closet?” Ewan asked.
Ailis appeared to regret her words, forgetting her uncles were still there and listening. “Nothing. It was nothing.”
For a tense minute, Hunter thought her uncles would demand an explanation. However, when neither she nor Padraig appeared ready to offer one, they returned to their respective sides of the business—Tris stepping back behind the bar, while Ewan resumed his duties in the restaurant.
Padraig chuckled. “Man, thanks for spicing up a boring Monday night, Ailis.”
“Go away, Paddy,” she said, her words lacking any heat. He took his place next to his dad behind the bar.
“Sorry about that,” the rocker chick said after the others walked away. “My gut told me to turn down Victor’s invitation when he called this afternoon—mainly because the guy’s a total douchebag—but I wanted to hear you sing. You’re really good. You deserve a spot in the contest.”
Hunter smiled, then he recognized her and his eyes widened. “Holy shit. You’re Rory Summit.”
Rory laughed. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure Victor said that.”
“You were lead singer of the Road Rebels. I heard you guys play a few years ago at the Pavilion.”
“That’s me. Band split up about a year and half ago and I’ve been trying to get my solo career off the ground since then. This business is a bitch. Well, I’ll see you opening night. Hope you’re okay with runner-up to my first place.”
Hunter didn’t admit he’d be thrilled with that outcome, because number one, it would mean he’d made it to the finale, and number two, there would be no shame in losing to Rory Summit. The woman was an incredible guitarist and her vocal range was out of this world. He’d heard a rumor once that she’d actually trained with a retired opera singer all during high school.
Even so, he wasn’t one to throw down the chance for some friendly trash-talking. “Flip that outcome and you’ll have it right.”
She laughed, then waved at Ailis. “Nice meeting you. Started out in this business because I was inspired by your parents and their music.”
“Thanks,” Ailis said, grinning widely. It wasn’t unusual for people to say nice things about Sky and Teagan, but Ailis always looked as if the speaker had handed her a present. She was proud of her parents and their accomplishments.
Rory left and Hunter sighed. “What a night.”
“I was about to say the same thing. This has certainly been an exciting time.”
Hunter was surprised to see Ailis’s Pop Pop standing there. He had seen him at the bar earlier, when he’d been auditioning, but the old guy was over ninety and not usually out this late.
“What are you still doing here, Pop Pop?” Ailis asked.
Mr. Collins shrugged. “I wasn’t tired, and it’s been some time since this place has felt so alive. Wasn’t in a hurry to leave.” He glanced toward the restaurant. “Even so, I expect Riley will come drag me out of here soon enough.”
Then, the old man looked at him. “That was quite a show. I really enjoyed it.”
Hunter sort of wondered if he meant the music or the fight. Mr. Collins was the type to probably get a kick out of both. “Thanks.”
“I think you’ll do well in that contest, son. Just listen to what our pretty little Ailis tells you to do and you’ll win the whole damn thing.”
“Pop Pop,” Ailis said, blushing. “Hunter is the one competing, the one with the talent. I’m sure he’ll—”
“I plan on doing everything she says. I’m nobody’s fool. You don’t have to worry about that, sir.”
Mr. Collins’s smile grew wide and he reached over to place a firm hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “I knew you were a smart lad. Good for you.”
“Hey, Pop, have you had enough yet?” Riley asked, walking over to join them. From the tone in her voice, it was obvious she’d tried to drag the old guy home several times already.
“Now,” Mr. Collins said, “I’m ready. And just for the record, if I’d let you talk me into leaving earlier, I would have missed that fight.”
Riley rolled her eyes. “And I’d never have heard the end of it. Must be some lucky star shining on me tonight.” Her tone was pure Riley, which meant complete sarcasm. “Who was the dark-haired girl who just left?”
“Rory Summit,” Hunter replied. “One of the competitors. She’s seriously talented.”
“And fucking hot,” Riley added.
“Language, Riley,” Mr. Collins said, chastising his adult daughter like she was some naughty teen.
“Sorry, Pop.”
They all laughed as they said their goodbyes to Ailis’s aunt and grandfather.
Ailis looked up at him. “Sorry about Pop Pop. When it comes to his grandchildren, he’s convinced we’ve hung all the stars and the moon.”
“He loves you. There’s nothing wrong with that. And I meant what I said, I plan on doing everything you say.”
“Even if it requires another Pretty Woman-style shopping excursion?”
Hunter feigned a wince. “I’ll try to grin and bear it.”
He thought she’d laugh, but her expression turned serious.
“What’s wrong, mouse?”
“Nothing. I mean, I’m just thinking about that Victor guy and what he said and—”
“Les is going to hear about this, isn’t he?”
She blew out a frustrated breath. “Yep.”
“You think he’ll kick me out of the show when he hears about that punch I just threw.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it and definitely not after he finds out what the fucker said,” Ailis said determinedly.
Hunter tucked his finger under her chin, tilting her face up to look at him. “Fighting my battles for me, mouse?”
“I don’t need to do anything except clear a path for you to that stage. You’re going to beat those assholes and win the whole damn thing.”
Hunter chuckled. “I think I’m going to have to stop calling you mouse. You’re my fierce warrior queen,” he murmured.
Her gaze sharpened. “Hunter,” she said warningly.
He blew out a long, frustrated breath.
“Ailis,” he started, wishing he could figure out what it was that suddenly had him acting like a dog in heat whenever she was around. “I’ve never mastered self-control.”
She narrowed her eyes as she studied his face. “Maybe not, but at some point, you have to see reason. Everything about this is wrong. You. Me. The timing. The situation.”
“You’re right,” he agreed. “I know that.”
She smirked. “Do you mind repeating the first part of that?”
Hunter tilted his head and crossed his arms. “Yeah, I do.”
“You said I was right,” she repeated for him.
“I get that the timing is bad for this…” Jesus, he couldn’t begin to put a word to what he was feeling for her.
“Flirtation,” she provided.
That was completely wrong, but Hunter decided to fly with it because her definition was way tamer and way more innocent than the vocabulary floating through his brain. “Yeah. Victor probably won’t be the only one to think I’m getting some sort of free pass if people believe you and I are…” He really shouldn’t have started this conversation.
“Having sex,” she added.
He really wished she wouldn’t say sex around him. It was a trigger. His cock thickened as he suddenly recalled Ailis’s body quivering beneath his as she came. She’d been so tight and wet and hot, and his dick was having a hard time concentrating on anything other than the fact it hadn’t been invited inside for a visit.
&
nbsp; “So we have to put the brakes on all this kissing and,” she continued, waving her hand around, “other stuff. I was serious about swearing off relationships. Until I get my head screwed on straight, I’m no good for anyone. Besides, you and I would never work anyway.”
She kept saying that, but for the life of him right now—apart from the issue of timing—he couldn’t figure out why she thought there were other obstacles in their way. “Why not?”
“Because we aren’t heading in the same direction.”
That really didn’t make sense. Because for the first time in their lives, it appeared to him that they were both walking the same path side by side. He’d finally had a break in his career and, while she might not realize it, she’d had the same break in hers. “We’re going in the exact same direction, Ailis.”
“I need to keep my personal life simple right now. Preparing you so you can win the contest is going to take up every waking moment for the next few weeks. We can’t lose focus. Eyes on the prize and all that.”
“Good pep talk, coach.”
She smiled, wrongly believing she’d convinced him with that silly argument of hers. “Then, when you win, you’ll be on your way. Agents and recording studios will be clamoring to sign you. Legitimate agents,” she stressed. “Ones with experience and connections. And,” she paused, hesitating, “then you’ll have everything you ever wanted. The career, the tour bus, the adoring fans, the fame.”
“And you’ll be right beside me, managing my career, beating off the groupies.”
In typical fashion, she dodged the heart of his statement, seeking to make a joke instead. “You want the groupies run off?”
Hunter did, but saying that right now would spook her even more. “We’ll work out signals in terms of the keepers and the ones getting tossed back.”
“Wow. Comparing women to fish. So sexy and sweet. Why am I begging you to keep your hands off me again?”
In his sick mind, her sarcasm was probably one of the hottest things about her. “I have no idea why you won’t let me touch you. You clearly loved my fingers inside you the other night,” he whispered.
She closed her eyes, failing miserably at hiding how much she’d liked it too. When she finally looked at him again, her gaze was steadier. “I don’t think we should discuss that again. You weren’t there, remember?”