Rock Star Romance: Dan (Contemporary New Adult Rockstar Bad Boy Romance) (Hard Rock Star Series Book 4)

by Jade Allen

  The host this time was none other than the famous Sir Hugh, the Cowboy Knight. The men in the diner grumbled about the gruff young performer, denying him the right to be classified along with the cowboys of their day, who took things like roping, riding, and long drives more seriously, sometimes at the expense of the animals. Cowboys like Hugh Riley promoted entertainment value over any obsession with technical skill, and promised "A show for the whole family----but especially the princesses." It was a bold move to so openly embrace the angle of catering to women as a man, but it worked wonders for Sir Hugh: his shows were consistently sold out, he had scores of female and male admirers of all kinds, and he was always asked to return to a city for a show. Lucy heard this all secondhand from Elizabeth and Rosie, the new waitress from the East Coast. Rosie in particular seemed to be hoping for a chance to interact with Sir Hugh; Elizabeth made faces at Lucy behind Rosie as she fawned over the man.

  "He tosses a rose to the most beautiful woman in the stadium before he faces the bull," Rosie said breathlessly, her eyes lustrous as she described the scene. "A gorgeous, fragrant rose that you get to keep! And he's so strong." She clasped her hands together in front of her ample bosom, and Elizabeth stifled a laugh with great difficulty. "No tricks during that part! Just tackles it and shows him what's what." She smiled then, her expression far too bawdy for the likes of her young face. "I'd like him to show me what's what, if you know what I mean." She cackled and winked at Lucy, who allowed a weak chuckle before shooting an apologetic look at Elizabeth.

  "I can't believe the mouth on her," Lizzie said later, shoving a stack of mugs into Joe's hands more roughly than necessary. After she stopped him from falling, she let out an irritated groan. "Sorry, Joe. I know she's only been here a week, and she's only been talking about that cowboy a day, but already I hate her enough to hate him by association."

  "I don't know," Lucy said as she stirred the grits briefly and ladled them into a bowl. She set everything on a tray and handed it and a folded cloth napkin to Lizzie, brushing a few stray strands of blonde hair from the younger woman's eyes. "He does sound interesting. The whole knight angle is pretty unique. And it certainly works." Lucy looked at the full diner, packed with lanky teenage girls, young men with thin mustaches, older ladies fanning themselves with menus during hot flashes, and disgruntled looking husbands trying to distance themselves from all the giggling women. They were all going to a preview show this evening before the real show tomorrow night; Sir Hugh would be giving a short demonstration with a baby calf. It was a popular set-up, and Lucy could only respect an artist who perfected and individualized a craft. When Lizzie came back with the tray, she looked more calm, and set down the wooden tray thoughtfully.

  "Are you going?" she asked in a low voice as Rosie breezed into the kitchen. Lucy shrugged, looking at the new waitress. The girl's uniform was cinched around her slim waist with a braided belt she said she'd worn the last time she saw Sir Hugh, and he'd almost tossed her a rose. It was good luck, she insisted.

  "If he didn't toss you the rose, doesn't that kind of make it bad luck?" Lizzie had asked innocently. Rosie made a face and patted her brown hair, which was piled on top of her head elaborately.

  "I also have my good luck hair tie," she had explained. "I thought of that, too."

  Rosie marched out haughtily, and Lizzie imitated her. Lucy laughed, earnestly and loud, and it brought a real grin to Lizzie's face. "So are you going?" she asked again, leaning against the counter to appreciate the temporary lull in service. "I can see him tossing that rose to you," Lizzie teased. "Wear that green dress you have! You'll definitely look queenly." She nudged Lucy conspiratorially. "Plus it'd burn Rosie's ass real good."

  Lucy giggled. Lizzie could lapse into blue speech herself sometimes, but it was endearing rather than off-putting for the young woman. "I might. I need a night out. But that man's looking for a princess, not a queen." She smiled. "I think you're a queen by default once you get to forty."

  "You're thirty!" Lucy giggled. "And no man ever turned down a beautiful queen. You should think about it." Lizzie caught sight of a couple looking at menus. She slapped Lucy's shoulder and darted out the swinging doors to the main part of the diner, smoothing her flyways down again.

  Lucy fingered her own red hair, now pulled back in a simple ponytail, her oval-shaped face framed by bangs her sister insisted she get the last time she was in town. Her hair was her favorite part of her body, and when it was down, it helped to accentuate her curvy frame, cascading gently to her waist like a crimson waterfall. Her shapely body had been a source of deeply conflicting emotion her whole life, even after she met Victor, the man she used to believe she would marry.

  Victor had practically worshipped her full figure, slowly teaching her to love her pillowy thighs, soft breasts and wide hips, and even the plumpness of her backside. She always knew she had a pretty face, but her weight was harder to deal with. Victor eventually erased all of her self doubt, then brought it back in one crushing blow when he stole her life savings and skipped town with another woman. He'd apparently secretly impregnated her a year before, and had been planning to flee since then, throwing away the five years he'd spent with Lucy.

  The only time Lucy ever missed work when she wasn't sick was the month following the breakup; Joe and Harold, the owner, almost discussed having her committed to a sanitorium. Cooking was the only interest she had left after that, and pouring her heart and soul into the restaurant was what ultimately saved her and allowed her to grow back the chunks of her Victor tore out when left. Lizzie had started working there soon after at age 18, and by three years later, the diner's staff had become Lucy's family. It turned out that Victor soaked up so much of her time, she'd hardly gotten to know anyone in the two years she worked there.

  Harold came in from the back office while she was cooking two chicken sandwiches and baking potatoes. "You seen these weirdos lining up for that idiot?" He scoffed.

  Lucy smiled at his square face, sun-baked and lined from years of squinting his eyes against glare and heat. He had worked as a farmer for twenty back-breaking years before saving enough to buy his own diner. Childless and widower, Harold's Place was the man's pride and joy. Despite appearing perpetually grumpy, Harold was a sweetheart, and the 50-year-old was particularly sweet on Lucy. She was grateful for his affection, but made it clear long ago that she saw him as an older brother figure, or even a father. He tried not to show his heartbreak and avoided her for a while after, but he still showed strong signs of favoring Lucy.

  "Idiots," he grumbled again as he ambled closer to her. "Flocking to an even bigger idiot." Harold pocketed a hard-boiled egg from the counter while she watched.

  "I see them," Lucy said, spooning sauce over the chicken and topping the breasts with cheese and thick slices of toasted bread. She placed them next to the baked potatoes and handed the two warm plates to Lizzie through the kitchen window, then turned her full attention to Harold.

  "You really think he's an idiot?" she teased. "Or are you just mad that he's not one of those cowboys who still gore the bull before the end of the show?"

  "I never sanctioned no bull goring," Harold said, mock-offended. "Just a good knock on the head or two. You gotta show 'em who's boss, not just run around them and lead 'em into a cage."

  "Why don't you try?" Lucy poked his beefy chest playfully, and Harold flushed. "I'd like to see you grab a bull by its horns."

  "You know I got a bad back, Lucy," Harold groaned, clutching his spine dramatically. The motion threw his round gut forward, and Lucy poked that too, giggling.

  "Doesn't stop you from trying to pick me up, you old geezer." Harold laughed uproariously and clutched his heart, swaying on the spot.

  "You wound me!" he said in a stage shout. Several heads turned toward the kitchen. "I die!" He staggered out of the room, startling Lizzie as she walked back in.

  "Giving you trouble again?" Lizzie asked, suppressing a grin. Harold's crush on Lucy was the source of much amuseme
nt for the diner, and the two had grown used to gentle ribbing.

  "The same," Lucy answered. She was still thinking about the rodeo; Victor had loved going, and particularly loved the antics of the rodeo clowns. Lucy herself hated clowns, as she'd carried over a phobia of them from her childhood years. Even from faraway they set her teeth on edge, and she preferred not to look at them at all. She felt silly for it but refused to change her mind, especially for Victor's rude teasing. "Say, Lizzie? Are there still clowns at cowboy shows? I haven't been in a few years."

  The young girls dipped two pots into a soapy bucket of water and whirled her hands around in the bath as she thought. "You know, the first few I've been to had clowns, but Ma said they weren't like they used to be. Less makeup, more tricks. They don't interact with animals the same. Usually it's baby animals, if they're there at all. But the last handful I can think of had magicians, or dancers. Can't remember what Sir Hugh advertised," she finished apologetically. Her head cocked to the side. "Why do you ask?"

  "No reason," Lucy said quickly.

  "But you are thinking about going? I could get you a ticket. I was going to go with Ma but she's sick." Lizzie was speaking faster and faster as she grew more excited, her pale eyes opening wide as she spoke. "We can have a special dinner before! Or have drinks after," Lizzie said shyly. "What do you say?"

  Lucy studied her bright eyes and round face, pink with happiness. "Maybe," she said finally. "I really have to make sure I have something to wear, and see if Harold is all right with cooking tomorrow evening." She kicked the idea around in her head more, getting comfortable with it. She could afford one night off this week, definitely. She looked through the box window into the dining area at all the bodies wound with energy, voices animated as the talked about the coming attraction. She missed feeling excited, thrilled for something, moved and stirred from the core of her being. It hadn't happened since...she realized with a shock that she didn't know the last time she felt so enthusiastic about anything, rather than merely content. It dampened her spirits, and she felt herself leaning away from the idea altogether.

  Just then, a squeal from behind her drew her attention. She and Lizzie both jumped and turn to see Rosie standing behind them, gazing at something through the window.

  "I can't believe it!" she said, her voice theatric. Her hand fluttered to her chest. "It's him!"

  Lizzie rolled her eyes at the girl's stage whisper, turning to look at who she was so enthralled with. Lucy watched in amusement as the girl's already white skin paled, and her mouth dropped open. All she could manage was a single emphatic "Oh!" She pressed her hand to her mouth, embarrassed at her outburst. Lucy turned to look at what had caused them to pose so comically, ready to mock them for it, and found herself imitating them instead. Her fingers touched her lips briefly as her eyes locked on the man, broad-shouldered and long-legged, while he strode to a small table almost exactly in front of the window.

  His square jaw was covered with dark stubble, and sharp green eyes peered out from under a wide-brimmed Stetson, black as coal. His shirt was a deep red, and it looked soft to the touch, right down to the stripes of ebony outlining the seams. His dark gray pants clung to his muscular thighs and were tucked into worn leather boots, the jingling spurs shining merrily as he walked. He sank gracefully into the wooden chair, removing his hat swiftly as he sat.

  The three women watched him pick up the menu left on the table as study it as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Lucy watched as a buzz spread through the dining room, and all heads turned toward the cowboy in a dramatic wave. She studied his square jaw, his clefted chin, his strong, calloused hands; a gentle warmth began to spread through her body, starting from her thighs and radiating outward.

  "Wow." She wasn't sure who said it, but it might as well have been all of them. Sir Hugh finished flipping through a menu just as a small boy who had been staring at him, slack-jawed, seemed to screw up all of his courage and strode right up to his table.

  Lucy heard the small boy speak in quavering voice. "S-Sir Hugh?" he asked. He was clutching a piece of paper with a drawing on it to his small chest.

  The cowboy turned in his seat and gave the boy a brilliant grin. "Yes, Sir?" he said heartily. His voice was low and urgent, and the little boy blushed a vivid tomato red.

  "Would you sign this for me?" he squeaked. He handed Sir Hugh the flier, and Lucy saw now that is was an ad for the show. It showed a heroic caricature of him, lifting a bull over his head with both hands with a look of fierce triumph. A few cartoon women swooned on the sidelines, and one that looked oddly like Rosie clutched a huge flower to her comically oversized bosom, thought it was a carnation and not a rose. Her eyes were wet with tears. Bold print proclaimed SEE SIR HUGH CONQUER THE BIGGEST BEAST IN THE WEST---AND CAPTURE YOUR HEART. A huge balloon heart was doodled under the message. The cowboy pulled out a felt pen and scrawled his name over the heart, and the young boy looked ready to burst.

  "Thank you!" he screeched, and took off back to his parents' table. His mother snatched the drawing from him greedily and pored over it, sending the little boy's face crumbling into misery.

  Rosie cleared her throat, eyes fixed on the man. "Looks like Sir Hugh is ready to order." Lucy realized why the cartoon girl reminded her of Rosie---the woman had styled her hair, clothes, and make-up exactly like the caricature on the flyer. Her lips and eyes were darkened with lipstick and liner, her cheeks rouged, and with her waist cinched, her bosom was as large as the woman's on the page. Lucy felt her spirits deflate slightly as Rosie sashayed over to Hugh, pad of paper in hand.

  "Welcome, Sir Hugh," she purred, and Elizabeth snapped out of her reveries and gave Lucy a look of total shock. Rosie had deepened her voice and was throwing out her chest as she stood. "What can I get for you today? Do you like...anything...that you see?" She stretched out the words, bending closer to him with the pad as she spoke. Rosie batted her heavy eyelashes at him sweetly, and Lucy felt a stir of revulsion before she could reign it in. She waited for the cowboy to turn on his apparently legendary charm.

  Instead, the man referred to the menu and looked up at the waitress only briefly. "I'll have the special," he said flatly. "And a glass of beer, if you please." He smiled, the exact same smile he'd given the little boy, and this time it looked cheap and vacant. His words held a certain edge, and Rosie stood up, chinks pinkening under the caked on rouge. She took a step back, her smile faltering momentarily before she regained her composure.

  "Steak with a whiskey glaze, creamy mashed potatoes with garlic and chives, roasted broccoli and cheese toast." Rosie rattled off the special through a mouth frozen in a forced smile. The cowboy studied his hands as though they were changing before his eyes, and the waitress bristled. Elizabeth covered her mouth as she dissolved into giggles, thoroughly tickled at seeing Rosie shut down so brutally. "Excellent choice, Sir," she tried, her voice full of fake cheer. "And that of course comes with---"

  "I know," The cowboy said politely, not looking up. "I can read, darlin'. Now scoot on, would you, please? I could eat a horse, but I wouldn't want to have to walk to the show."

  Rosie narrowed her eyes, and Lucy was afraid for a moment that the woman would melt down, not knowing what else to do after what was clearly her first rejection. Then she took a deep breath in, and she spoke again, voice void of all emotion. "Absolutely. Coming right up." She turned on the spot and pushed past the swinging doors in the kitchen, handing the pad to Lucy without looking at either of the women and disappearing into the back room. There was silence, and the two women shared a pregnant look before laughing madly, trying to suppress their giggles with their hands.

  "Oh my god," Lizzie said as she pulled a steak from the icebox and handed it to Lucy. "I thought I was going to die. I mean, I literally left my body and saw myself standing below me, that was so funny!" She slapped her thighs, tears welling in her eyes.

  Lucy started to cook the special automatically, having developed the recipe years before and p
erfecting it over the years. It was the most popular diner dish, and was always warmly received. People from out of town would ask for the special, since anyone you questioned in town would recommend it to a hungry traveler. Harold's Place was clean, homey, and cheap, and if it weren't so on the outskirts, business would have been booming constantly. As Lucy let the sauce simmer with the steak, she was grateful for their relatively unknown status. Besides having a few busy hours each weekend day, it was an ideal place to perfect the art of cooking. Lizzie chattered with her happily as she finished cooking the dish.

  "I wonder if he heard about us somewhere," Lucy muttered to Lizzie as she assembled the food on the plate. She'd worked to make sure steak was perfect, rare and juicy, and the potatoes were creamy and flavorful. "I hope it's alright." She gave the plate one last anxious turn before she sent Lizzie out, eyeing the girl from the window as she dropped the plate gracefully on the table. Sir Hugh gave her a real smile, and she blushed as she walked away, nearly tripping over her own two feet.

  "I almost died again!" she said shrilly. "Did you see that?"

  But Lucy was watching Hugh. His eyes had closed for a moment after he took his first bite, and his face changed---softened somehow. He ate speedily, joy breaking over his handsome face as he parsed the ingredients. He cleaned the plate faster than Lucy had ever seen anyone eat, and touched the beer only when he'd mopped up the last of the whiskey glaze with a piece of broccoli and popped it in his mouth. He let out a low, satisfied moan, and leaned back in his chair. Lizzie rushed out to pick up his plate, curtsying to him awkwardly before turning away.

  "Wait," he called as she headed for the door. Lizzie spun, her face frozen in shock.

  "Yes?" she squeaked. A girl near her laughed, high-pitched and mean. Lizzie flushed red with anger and straightened.