Drop Beat (The Heartbeat Series Book 2)

by Ryleigh Sloan

  Kade chews on his lip, his lip ring glinting in the overhead lights as he stifles his laugh. “I’m just messing with you, Maddie. Thank you.”

  Damn, I’m doing well today. “Do you know where Blair is?”

  Is that a blush I see staining Kade’s cheeks? Can’t be? “Uh… she’s with Dean. I think they were banking on a longer encore.”

  I raise my hands and let them fall to my sides. “Again? Geez, what is it with those two and the backstage of a concert?” Blair and Dean somehow made a habit of sneaking off for some fun times after every show. I guess they needed to burn off the adrenaline or something, but you’d think since they invited me backstage they’d be able to control their hormones for five damn minutes.

  “Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll get you a drink? This could take a while.”

  Yeah, he’s not wrong there. Blair and Dean don’t know the meaning of a quickie. I wish they’d just left me down in the crowd though. That way I wouldn’t be feeling so damn awkward.

  While Kade goes to fetch me a drink, I try my best to sneak a glance around the room for Keller. Another bout of disappointment hits as I realize he isn’t here either. Josh and Jeff are over in the corner, having an animated discussion, but I can’t tell what about. Kade comes back with a bottle of grape soda in one hand and water in the other and sits on the chair opposite me.

  “Which would you prefer?” Kade does that thing people do when they have something in each hand and are sort of raising them up and down so the person can choose. Is there a name for that?

  “Water, please.”

  Kade hands me the water and pops the lid of the grape soda, taking a long drink. Man, I don’t want this poor guy to think he has to sit and make small talk with me after a long show, so I smile. “Mind if I go onstage and check out the view from your usual vantage point?”

  Kade leans back. “Be my guest. Want me to stand in front of the stage and throw my bra at you?” The minute the words leave his mouth, I can see he realizes what he just said and now I’m certain he’s blushing. “Fuck, that sounded funnier in my head. I meant a bra, not my bra. I obviously don’t have a bra.”

  “Sure.” I wink. “Don’t worry about it, your secret’s safe with me.”

  He laughs.

  “Kade, will you come settle something for us before I have to kill this motherfucker?” Josh calls from across the room, glaring pointedly at Jeff before his eyes flick to mine and he gives me a very indiscreet once-over.

  Jeff raises a hand to me in silent greeting before turning back to Josh to continue his debate.

  Kade stands and whips out his phone. “I’ll let security know you’re going to be on the stage, and I’ll tell Blair where to find you when she’s done.”

  “Thanks.”

  Going back down the corridor to the stage, I slip through the curtain and walk out. The crowd is still trickling away with the gentle urging of the security staff, and groundsmen are cleaning up the trash people have just strewn about. I never understand why people act differently when they are out and about than they would at home. At least, I hope they don’t chuck their trash around at home.

  Keller’s red drum set catches my attention, and I can’t resist the urge to see what it’s like from behind the drums. I stroll over and I like to think I look clandestine, but I’m sure the reality probably looks like something out of those slapstick spy shows. Even though Kade gave security a heads-up, I still steal a glance around to see if anyone’s going to stop me. I run my fingers lightly over the skin of the snare drum. It’s scratched up from constantly being beaten on. Next, my fingers make their way to the cymbals. There are four—all different sizes, and I really admire the skill it must take to keep up multiple rhythms and beats while playing them. I take a seat on the stool, and a small thrill runs through me. Keller is a tall guy, so I have to stretch out my toes so they touch the floor. No one has seemed to notice me yet, and I allow myself a fangirl moment. I’m actually sitting on the same seat Keller Cannon from LP-45 had his ass on no less than fifteen minutes ago. What is this life!

  I know I shouldn’t be sitting here. Touching a guy’s drums is probably one of those personal things like driving his car, right? They get all caveman and possessive over it. But despite knowing this is an invasion of sorts, I can’t seem to help myself.

  Scooting closer, I pick up the drumsticks and feel the weight of them in my palm. I’m surprised—they’re heavier than I expected. I stretch forward and place my foot on the pedal, tapping it lightly. A deep, low sound resonates around the stage and vibrates in the base of my stomach. I look up and a few stragglers glance at the stage, but they quickly lose interest when they see it isn’t Keller up here.

  This is so cool. I could get used to this.

  Now for the real stuff. I tap the sticks to the drum and get a little thrill, so I do it again, only this time louder.

  “You’re holding them wrong.”

  My head snaps up, and I drop the drumstick. You’d think there was a boom mic directly above the small innocuous piece of wood by the sound it makes as it hits the floor and rolls a few feet, but I think they call that guilt.

  Keller strides toward me from the edge of the stage where he’s been watching me and bends down to pick the stick up. It looks like he’s just taken a shower, and sweet mother of all panty-poolers, he isn’t wearing a shirt. It’s hanging off his incredibly defined shoulder. A few fans—probably the same ones who couldn’t care less that I was up here playing moments ago—start screaming and rush for the stage, but security handles the situation.

  Keller looks out at the almost empty park, then back at me, hardly paying any attention to the fans screeching his name as they are being firmly coaxed to the exit. I watch as he slips the shirt off his shoulder and pulls it over his chest. It all seems to play out in slow motion like a cheesy rom-com as he covers up his body, and I immediately lament the loss of seeing that really delicious V that I only had the most minuscule glimpse of.

  If this was any other guy, I’d wonder if the whole striding onstage shirtless thing was a ploy, but somehow Keller doesn’t strike me as a guy who gives a hoot about what anyone thinks about his abs, or V, or happy trail… Damn, that went south fast. Pardon the pun.

  To distract myself from my pervy thoughts, and to cover the guilt I feel over being in his private space, I do what I do best. I “Maddie” my way out of the situation.

  “Come show me how it’s done, then.” My eyebrows raise in challenge.

  His face remains impassive as he twirls his stick absentmindedly. “You’re Madison, right?”

  A thrill shoots through me. Keller Cannon knows my name? And the name only Blair’s papaw uses, and occasionally Dean when he’s trying to piss me off. It’s a game we play almost every time we see each other and so far, Dean is ahead in points. For now, anyway.

  “How do you know who I am?” I ask, even though I know the answer.

  “We all know who you are.” He runs a hand over his closely cropped hair. “You’ve got a rep.”

  “A rep?” I scrunch up my face.

  Keller smirks. “Dean says you tried to sic a rhino on him once.”

  Freaking Dean! “That’s not true. I never did that. But now I’m reconsidering.” That gets a laugh out of Keller, and I need to get this conversation off me and back to the issue at hand.

  “So are you going to show me now?”

  He steps over, and when I go to stand so he can give me a proper demonstration, he places his hand on my shoulder and gently pushes me back onto the stool before walking behind me and handing me the stick.

  “Hold the stick like this.” He wraps his hands around my fist, and they are warm with just the right amount of callouses. You know the amount I’m talking about, the kind that tells you he is really good with his hands. The type that scrape over your skin and set you on fire. That amount. I’m so lost in my own little Pornhub that I miss the first bit of his sentence. Lucky for me, he’s demonstrating. “…
then the left hand is like this…” He leans in, right in, his body pressed against mine, and shit on a cotton-candy stick, he smells like impure thoughts and sin and lust and every other deadly concoction. “Got it?”

  He moves next to me again, and I look down at the sticks placed perfectly in my hands. “Go ahead.” Keller steps to the side, and I can see his off-kilter smile. I want to drop the sticks or mess up just so he can lean in that close to me again, but I can’t bring myself to play the damsel in distress—no matter how appealing it seems.

  I hit the drums and Keller beams at me and suddenly I get why girls lose their common sense over a little bit of charm. I keep going. I’m a sucker for positive reinforcement and if he’s going to continue to smile at me like that, I’m gonna keep doing my best. I watch Keller as I continue to tap out the rhythm on the drums and his biceps are twitching as though he’s eager to join in, and damn it’s getting me all kinds of turned on thinking about Keller and I making beats together.

  Now, I’m the kind of girl who takes charge of her sexuality. My mother is a bit of a hippie. She lost the love of her life in a tragic accident in college and decided that no guy is ever going to measure up to him. No guy ever did, and my mom refused to be shamed for having fun with men, but never settling down. She taught me that our bodies are our temples and we have the power to do whatever we want with them as long as—and this is important—we respect ourselves and our bodies at all times. My mother flat-out refuses to let old fashioned conventions govern her life and doesn’t believe in waiting for a guy to make the first move. Frankly, neither do I, but right now I’m thinking like someone who has been sexually frustrated since dinosaurs went extinct.

  I focus on the job at hand and soon my arms grow tired and I shake them out. “Boy, that gives your arms a workout.”

  Keller takes the sticks from my hands—it’s as though he’s been missing the feel of them—and starts twirling them in an unconscious habit. “It takes a while to get used to it.”

  “I guess drummers are all about endurance, huh?”

  He raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything but his lip twitches and I hope I’m coming across as amusing rather than creepy.

  “Can you show me how to do that?”

  “This?” He flicks the stick, and it loops in his fingers.

  Cue the humming lady-bits. “Yeah.” Freaking treacherous breathy voice.

  He twirls the sticks again but slows the movement right down so I can see what he’s doing. Damn, what else can he do with those fingers? I don’t know where that thought came from. (Okay, that’s not entirely true, I know exactly where it came from. I think it just about every time he does that.)

  Keller bursts out laughing, and I realize that I actually asked the question out loud. Shit and damn! I know that at any moment my face is going to heat so much that they’ll be able to feel the warmth all the way back home in South Africa.

  I close my eyes and pray for one of those giant sinkholes you see in apocalypse movies to swallow me up, but open them again when I feel Keller’s fingers on my chin.

  “Madison, look at me. We simply don’t have time for me to show you what I am capable of doing to you with these fingers, or believe me, I’d show you.”

  Holy shitballs. His eyes lock onto mine, and his voice rolls over me in a wave of liquid heat. I swallow hard and decide it’s time to quit before I beg Keller to take me right here.

  “Well, that’s a damn shame.” I stand and straighten my cap. “See ya around, Keller. Thanks for the lesson.” I manage to walk off the stage with my head held high. I don’t even react when I hear him chuckling softly. When I get backstage, I sneak a quick glance at Keller from behind the curtain. He’s shaking his head and looking slightly bewildered with just the right amount of amusement added to the mix.

  Thank the damn saints!

  Three – Smart Mouth

  Keller

  “Earth to Kel. Where the hell are you, man? You’ve been smirking since you came back from packing up your kit. You hook up with the honey from the first row? The one who was screaming your name so loud I could hardly hear you over my earpiece?”

  I take the Coke Jeff hands me and clink the bottle against his. “Nope, just a good show, that’s all.”

  He eyes me suspiciously, and I don’t blame him. I know the grin I’m currently trying to suppress is cheesy as fuck, and I can’t help it. Madison is something else. Normally, I’d be pissed to find someone behind my drums. In fact, no one is allowed to even touch my babies. Ever. It’s why I set them up and take them down myself. But seeing Maddie sitting behind them, her tongue peeking out in concentration as she hit the snare before breaking out in that smile that would put a Christmas parade to shame, I was mesmerized. And that mouth on her. Jesus, she’s sassy and just what I need to release a bit of tension. Guilt fights its way through all the fun feelings I have in me right now and threatens to ruin this day for me, but I bank it down.

  I just need this day.

  One.

  That’s all.

  I take a swig from my Coke. “What time are we heading out?”

  “Kade says in ten. He’s just saying goodbye to Dean and Blair and her firecracker of a friend. Shit, I forget her name?”

  “Madison.” I take another drink to hide my smile.

  “Yeah, Maddie. Josh was trying to claim dibs on her, and Dean didn’t look too happy. He’s gone all big brotherly since he’s grown serious about Blair.”

  I don’t blame Dean. Josh is like a brother to me, but he goes through girls faster than guitar picks, and that’s saying something since he throws at least half a dozen or more out into the crowd a night.

  “Nice touch with the Funeral March, by the way.”

  I tip my bottle to Jeff. “Thanks.”

  Dean’s a stand-up guy, and it was a pleasure being in on his proposal. He used to fuck around like the rest of us—well, me and Josh, anyway. Jeff and Kade seem to keep their lives more low-key. But since Dean met Blair, things have turned around for him, and I’m happy for the guy. It’s just that that life is not for me. Once there are ties, your life is never your own, and I don’t want to be responsible for another person again. It leads to mistakes.

  Irreversible ones.

  Catastrophic ones.

  Which is why I can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner. Maddie is perfect for having a little fun with. She lives in South Africa and will be heading home in a few days, based on what I overheard earlier. So we can have a couple of days of no-strings-attached fun—which is the best kind—and she can head on back home. Yep, it’s perfect!

  I stand up and make to head backstage to find Maddie. I have a little proposal for her. One that I’m sure she won’t pass up on, if our earlier interaction is anything to go by.

  “I’ll meet you at the bikes.”

  “Don’t be long. We have a lot of deliveries to get through.”

  “I won’t,” I call over my shoulder, hoping I’m not too late to catch Maddie before she leaves.

  I turn the corner to the green room and see I’m in luck. Maddie is making a selection from the vending machine, and I take a moment to watch her like I did when she was onstage. The blonde hair that was pulled back in a ponytail earlier is free now and brushing just below her shoulders. Her pink tank rides up, exposing her tight stomach as she runs her hands through her hair in frustration. My eyes trail down over her ass, barely covered by her camo shorts, and I wonder what it will look like naked and bending over a chair. I make a mental note to have Maddie in just such a position later if she’s up for it.

  Maddie stares at the machine for a while, a frown causing a deep line to form on her forehead, and she throws her head back. “Goddamn piece of crap. What is it with these things?” She starts pounding the vending machine with the heel of her hand.

  I stroll over and give the bottom right-hand side of the machine a kick, and the candy bar she selected falls gracefully to the tray. Maddie looks over at me, her hazel
eyes flicking to mine.

  “You really want that chocolate, huh?”

  “What was your first clue?”

  I chuckle and bend down to retrieve the candy bar before unwrapping it and taking a bite.

  Maddie digs her fists into her hips. “What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like?” I mumble around a bite of the Snickers.

  She reaches out to snatch it from me, but I hold it out of reach, which isn’t hard to do. I estimate her to be about five-two, so she just comes to a few inches below my shoulder on my six-foot-five frame.

  “That’s my chocolate.” Her hazel eyes flash.

  “I helped you get it, so I deserve half. What happened to sharing is caring?” I take a bite to cover my smile. I’m having way too much fun with this.

  “I don’t share my chocolate. Ever.”

  “Yeah? That’s how I feel about my kit.”

  “Fair enough. One more bite and the rest is mine.” She hides her smile and gives me her most serious face.

  I take another bite while she watches me, making sure I don’t get more than my half. Damn, she’s cute. Gorgeous and cute. “I’m glad I caught you, Madison.”

  She holds her hand out for the chocolate. “My friends call me Maddie.”

  “Madison,” I reiterate while placing the candy in her hand. “I don’t want to be your friend; I want to fuck you. I’ve been thinking of you since your little fingers comment earlier. If you’re okay with just having a good time. Two consenting adults, enjoying each other’s bodies. No strings. No promises. No expectations. I’d like to take you on the Teddy Run with me, and after, back to my place so I can show you exactly what my fingers, and my mouth and my cock, can do to you. What do you say, Madison? Are you game? Was I right about you?”

  I watch her eyes grow wider and wider as I’m frank with her. She raises the chocolate to her mouth and bites off half of what’s left. She takes her time chewing it, and after she swallows, her tongue darts out to snag a bit of melted chocolate from the corner of her lips.