Fall with Me (Sixth Street Bands Book 2)

by Jayne Frost

  Table of Contents

  Fall with Me

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Read on

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Fall with Me

  Jayne Frost

  ©2016 JAYNE FROST

  THIS WORK IS LICENSED UNDER A CREATIVE COMMONS ATTRIBUTION

  NONCOMMERCIAL-NO DERIVATIVE WORKS 3.0 UNPORTED LICENSE.

  ATTRIBUTION—YOU MUST ATTRIBUTE THE WORK IN THE MANNER SPECIFIED BY THE AUTHOR OR LICENSOR (BUT NOT IN ANY WAY THAT SUGGEST THAT THEY ENDORSE YOU OR YOUR USE OF THE WORK.)

  NONCOMMERCIAL—YOU MANY NOT USE THIS WORK FOR COMMERCIAL PURPOSES.

  NO DERIVATIVE WORKS—YOU MANY NOT ALTER, TRANSFORM, OR BUILD UPON THS WORK WITHOUT WRITTEN CONSENT FROM THE AUTHOR AND/OR PUBLISHER.

  INQUIRIES ABOUT ADDITIONAL PERMISIONS

  SHOULD BE DIRECTED TO JAYNE@JAYNEFROST.COM

  THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. NAMES, CHARACTERS, PLACES, BRANDS, MEDIA, AND INCIDENTS ARE EITHER THE PRODUCT OF THE AUTHOR’S IMAGINATION OR USED FICTICIOUSLY. ANY RESEMBLENCES TO SIMILARLY NAMED PLACE OR TO PERSONS LIVING OR DEAD IS UNINTENTIONAL.

  COVER DESIGNED BY CONCIERGE LITERARY SERVICES

  EDITED BY ALLY BISHOP AND PERLA CALAS

  FORMATTING BY ATHENA INTERIOR BOOK DESIGN

  To Matthew and Victoria

  I didn’t write this book for you, but because of you.

  You are my inspirations in all I do.

  I love you with all my heart.

  Chapter One

  I swung my truck into a parking space at Hut’s burgers and then glanced at Logan in the passenger seat. He shot me a wide smile, his face half-hidden under the black Batman mask we’d picked up at Party City on the way here.

  “You look fucking ridiculous,” I said, dropping my gaze to his tattered jeans and long-sleeved “roadie” t-shirt. “That’s not even a costume.”

  “Is too,” Logan retorted, pulling down the visor to check his reflection. “I’m Batman.”

  Even under the stupid mask, I could tell he was waggling his brows.

  “No,” I pushed the door open to my truck and shot back, “you’re a moron in a black mask.”

  Falling into step beside me as we crossed the parking lot, he tugged the sleeves down on his shirt to cover his signature tattoos.

  “Look, its Halloween,” he whined. “You told me we could stop and get some grub if I didn’t draw attention to myself.” Smiling, he motioned to his mask. “Done.”

  Pausing as we passed a group dressed like the entire cast from Star Wars, Logan ogled the chick in the gold bikini with her hair wrapped in tight buns around her ears.

  “Princess Leia.” He nodded appreciatively. “You look hot. You want to visit the ‘bat cave’?”

  You want to visit the bat cave? Seriously?

  If anyone else used a line like that, they’d get their ass handed to them. But not Logan. Even with half of his face covered, that cocky grin of his got the girl to stop in her tracks. Since I wasn’t wearing a costume, and my face was nearly as recognizable, I stared down at my boots and didn’t make eye contact with the chick.

  Leia pulled out of her trance and shuffled closer to the guy in the Luke Skywalker costume. “I don’t go out with bats,” she sniffed. “Sorry.”

  From the way her eyes raked over Logan’s lean frame, she was sorry. Sorry that her boyfriend was there.

  “But you date your brother?” Logan retorted, shifting his amused gaze to the guy at her side. “You do know that Princess Leia and Luke are brother and sister?”

  He laughed when the couple shifted uncomfortably at the revelation.

  Tugging his sleeve, I grumbled, “Dude, let’s go. I’m not going to debate fictitious genealogy with these two.”

  Shaking my head, I wandered toward the packed restaurant, hoping like hell Logan was behind me. With those long legs of his, he passed me a couple seconds later.

  “Get the stick out of your ass, Wikipedia,” he chided, holding the door open for me. “You’re ruining my fun.”

  “This isn’t smart.” Following him inside, I gazed over all the crowded tables. “This place is balls to the walls.”

  “You should have worn a costume if you were worried about it.”

  I bumped into his back when he slowed to a snail’s pace to gawk at a booth full of girls clad in tight tank tops and cut-offs. A smile tugged his as he admired a sexy brunette.

  Twirling her hair around her finger, she cocked her head as she tried to place him. Her eyes drifted over his shoulder to the dirty window where the billboard for our band was clearly visible across the street.

  When I saw the glint of recognition on the chicks face, I nudged him toward the counter.

  “Keep walking,” I hissed.

  Reluctantly, he did as I asked.

  “Relax, Wikipedia,” he said, taking his place behind a line of patrons waiting to place their orders. “You look like you’re chewing on a turd. Maybe that’s why you don’t get laid.”

  Ignoring him, I picked up a worn menu from the counter. “Yeah, that gets me in the mood to enjoy this mystery meat you insist on eating.”

  He rocked back on his heels. “You can look all day long.” His grin widened. “None of those double-meat burgers are going to turn into a salad.”

  Hut’s did, in fact, have salads. And at any other burger joint that’s what I’d be ordering. But I wasn’t going to pass up a golden opportunity to sink my teeth into a Big Bopper. Not that Logan needed to know that.

  He narrowed his eyes while I pretended to weigh my options.

  “Next!”

  He swung his gaze to the impatient voice and then sauntered to the register.

  Placing his order, he flirted shamelessly with the cute little waitress wearing Minnie Mouse ears.

  She barely spared him a glance as she shoved the tray in his hand.

  Logan looked at me feigning a shiver. “Brrr,” he mouthed, giving the angry little mouse a once over before ambling away to stake out a table.

  Chuckling, I took my place in front of Minnie. It was rare that women didn’t notice Logan. He had a knack for attracting pretty girls, even before he was famous. And this girl was definitely pretty. Tousled blond hair fell in waves around her shoulders. And even though she was wearing a boxy Hut’s t-shirt, I could see the outline of her magnificent rack hidden beneath the loose fitting, cotton fabric.

  When she lifted her gaze, piercing green eyes fringed with heavy lashes bore into mine.

  “What can I get you?” Her fingers hovered over the keys on the register, a scowl tugging the corners of her pouty lips.

  “I’ll take a Big Bopper with cheddar cheese. Make it a combo.”

  She sighed as she tapped in my order. “Fries or onion rings?”

  “Neither.” Giving her my most genuine smile, I reached for my wallet. “But could you make the bun gluten-free?”

  Her skeptical green eyes wandered over my long hair and day old scruff. “That’s a buck-fifty extra.”

  Judgmental much?

  “Not a problem, Minnie.” Chuckling, I zeroed in on the littl
e triangle of black paint on the tip of her button nose. “I can afford it.”

  “Not saying you can’t.” She shrugged and handed me a paper cup. “But I’d be more worried about the heart attack on a plate than whether it was served gluten-free.”

  “Mel!” A woman shuffled out from behind the grill, wiping her hands on the fur of her grease-stained bunny costume. “What have I told you about your attitude? I don’t care how tired you are, you don’t take your bad mood out on the customers.”

  The bunny turned to me with a forced smile while Mel looked down at her toes.

  “I’m Patty, the manager here. I apologize for Mel, she’s a little…” Blinking, her gaze shifted to the picture of our band in a spot of honor on the Hut’s “Wall of Fame.” She swallowed hard, color rising in her cheeks. “Are you Christian Sears?”

  “Nope.” Smiling, I threw her a wink. “But I guess I nailed my Halloween costume.”

  Patty smirked, swinging her awe-struck gaze to Logan, huddled in a booth a few yards away. “Tell Batman I’m a huge fan,” she gushed, tossing some napkins and a straw on my tray. “I caught one of your shows at The Parish a couple months ago.”

  “We appreciate that. Glad you enjoyed yourself.”

  She brushed my arm aside as I tried to hand Mel my credit card.

  “On the house.” Patty cut her eyes to Mel, consternation furrowing her brow. “For your trouble.”

  Mel winced, snaring her bottom lip between her teeth.

  “Its fine, really. Mel here was just giving me a hard time.” I grinned at the cute little mouse, hoping she’d play along. She shot me a glower for my trouble.

  “I insist,” Patty said, shooing me away with a smile. “We’ll have your food right out. Happy Halloween.”

  She whispered something into Mel’s ear and then stalked away. Mel’s green eyes met mine for a second before she followed her boss behind the industrial grill. My stomach sank when Patty shook a finger in Mel’s face, her voice rising over the sizzle of the burgers and fries.

  A bubbly redhead darted to the counter, her ponytail swinging behind her. “Is there something else I can get you?” She peeked at the customers impatiently rumbling in a line behind me.

  Tearing my gaze from Mel, who was now defending herself, loudly, I shook my head. “Um, no thanks. I’m good.”

  After filling my drink at the soda fountain, I joined Logan at our table. I scowled at his grin as I slid into the booth. “What?”

  “Don’t get all pissy with me. I’m not the one who blew our cover.” He popped a fry in his mouth. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

  “Whatever.”

  Reclining against the cracked vinyl, I shifted my gaze to the open kitchen where Patty was glowering at Mel, the ears on her bunny suit flapping as she shook her head emphatically. Mel fumbled with the tie on her green apron before shrugging out of the smock and tossing it at her boss’s chest. Her mouth moved in what I could only assume was a parting insult, because she turned on her heel and stormed off a second later.

  Too enthralled with the drama, I didn’t notice the redheaded waitress with the ponytail standing in front of our table.

  “Here’s your Big Bopper,” she said cheerily, my burger resting on a plate in the crook of her arm.

  I nodded, fishing a twenty out of my pocket to cover the tip.

  “Hey, do you know what happened to the girl who took my order?” I asked casually, tossing the bill on the table. “The blonde?”

  “Oh, that was Melody. I think Patty just gave her the heave-ho. That girl doesn’t need to be working in the service industry anyway.” Her ponytail swung back and forth as she shook her head. “She just called Patty a ‘dragonian.’ Call your boss a dragon, and you're asking for it.”

  I choked a little on my Dr. Pepper. “Do you mean ‘draconian’?”

  “Yeah.” Her brows pulled together. “Isn’t that what I said?”

  I was about to correct her when she blinked at me without a hint of guile. I could be wrong, but she might be destined for a career in food service. And, hey, she seemed fine with that. Giving her a lesson on nineteenth century Greek was a waste of my breath and her time.

  “Well, I guess it’s a good thing she’s gone.” I stared into my cup. “She probably didn’t fit in around here.”

  The redhead shrugged, clearing some trash off the table before grabbing her tip and scooting away.

  Logan took the last bite of his burger, eyeing me as he chewed. “Dude, it wasn’t your fault the chick got fired. She called her boss a dragon.”

  My appetite gone, I pushed the plate aside. “Draconian, you moron.”

  Logan crossed his arms over his chest. “And I suppose there’s a difference, Wikipedia?”

  I was about to suggest that Logan go ask the redhead for a date when I noted his expression. His eyes were lit with the same curiosity he’d tried to hide in high school when I’d offer to help with his homework. He’d act like he wasn’t paying attention, doodling on his notepad with indifference. But I always smiled when he’d bust out with some obscure factoid, usually to silence a teacher who’d put him on the spot.

  “Draconian means rigorous.” I took another sip of my soda. “Severe and cruel.”

  Logan nodded slowly. “So its kind of the same thing then, right?” Flashing a cocky grin, he snatched the pickle spear nestled next to my untouched burger. “Dragons are severe and cruel.”

  Chuckling, I picked up my Big Bopper. “You got me there, bro.”

  Chapter Two

  The tension knots in my neck disappeared the minute I set foot inside the UT Life Science building. The ceilings in the alcove, inlayed with rich, dark wood, gleamed in the autumn sunlight filtering through the high windows as I walked toward the marble arch leading to the Life Science Library. Gold letters encased in black granite marked my destination.

  Passing through the glass doors, my boots squeaked on the polished stone floors as I made my way to the physics section.

  When I rounded the corner, I found Mrs. Thatcher replenishing the stacks with books she picked out of a grey bin.

  She slid a thick text onto the shelf, then glanced at me and smiled. “Good afternoon, Christian. That book you wanted finally came in.”

  My ears perked up as I gave her an index card containing my current wish list. “Really?”

  She tucked the card in her pocket and then pried a copy of Was Einstein Right? Putting General Relativity to the Test, from the cubby.

  “Popular book.” She handed me the text, then turned on her heel, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll see if we have any of the others in the system.”

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, running my finger over the worn cover.

  I’d read this book many times, but never an edition this old. Cracking open the spine, hand written notes adorned the margins, some dating back years from the looks of it.

  Exiting the stacks, I headed toward the rows of uncomfortable wooden chairs. I wasn’t complaining, though. Given the amount of time I spent in libraries growing up, it wasn’t a good day unless one of my legs was numb or my back was screaming for mercy.

  Settling into my usual spot at a table in the back, I reached for my phone to bring up my secret playlist of classical music.

  My father, the mathematician, insisted rock and roll wasn’t conducive to concentration. It was one of the few things we agreed on. Though I never let him know it.

  As I slipped in my ear buds, I noticed a girl two tables away juggling an armful of books and supplies. Losing the battle, the texts slipped from her grasp, crashing to the concrete floor.

  “Shit,” she muttered.

  Dropping to her knees, she tucked a swath of blond hair behind her ear before crawling under the table to retrieve a couple of wayward pencils.

  One glimpse of her on all fours, her luscious ass in the air, and I jumped out of my seat.

  The scent of cinnamon and autumn leaves assaulted me as I knelt to help her collect the papers littering
the floor.

  “Here you go,” I said, handing over the messy pile.

  Wobbling to her feet, she smiled down at me, her blond hair curtaining her face. “Thanks. I’m all thumbs today.”

  Spying a cherry lip balm wedged against the chair leg, I plucked the tube from its hiding place and then rose to my feet.

  “Cherry, huh?” The smile froze on my lips when I caught sight of her unusual jade green eyes. Silver lined the pupils, luminous under the fluorescent lights.

  Trying to place her, I started at her blond hair, working my way down.

  Pausing the descent when I reached her perfect tits, my gaze darted to hers. “Mel, right?”

  Her plump lips fell into a frown as she snatched the lip balm from my hand.

  “Melody,” she bit out. “My friends call me Mel. And we’re not friends, Christian.”

  Opening the flap on her backpack, she dropped the little tube into the abyss.

  So, the angry little mouse remembered me. And she knew my name.

  “Patty was right. You do have an attitude problem.” I leaned forward, smirking. “How’s that working out for you?”

  “Patty’s an idiot. And my attitude’s fine. I just don’t suffer fools.” She tipped her chin, her gaze roaming over my face like I was the fool she was being forced to suffer. “Gladly, at least.”

  Unsure if I was turned on or insulted, I crossed my arms over my chest and studied her posture. Insulted. Definitely insulted.

  “Saint Paul called—he wants his line back,” I said blandly. “Didn’t think I’d catch that, did you? Second Corinthians—chapter eleven, verse nineteen. Look it up if you don’t believe me. And the whole ‘not suffering fools’ thing? I guess you’re in the wrong business.” Her frown intensified, which satisfied me immensely so I added a cherry on top. “Or you were, until you got yourself fired.”

  As I doubled back to my seat, I heard Mel’s mint green Chucks squeaking against the floor as she stalked after me.

  “I did not get myself fired,” she hissed, dropping her backpack on the table with a thud. “You were there. I made one comment.” She held up a finger. “One. And bam…I’m out the door.”