Hinder (An Off Track Records Novel)

by Kacey Shea

  Oh, and the flirting is nice, too. I have no doubt Austin and Leighton’s intentions lie about as far as the next stop, but still I’ll take it. Never have I felt more beautiful, powerful, and womanly than I do when those boys shower me with attention. Especially when they’re vying for who gets to give me my next guitar lesson. I finally made an alternating schedule. I swear, why are men so competitive? I doubt neither really cares as much about spending their free time teaching me to play, they just can’t stand the other monopolizing my attention.

  They have no clue how much they’re toying with my heart. Or how confusing it is to be attracted to two men at the same time. I’m not that kind of girl. At least I never thought it possible. But sure enough, my mind practically turns to putty for either man. They have no clue. Or that I’m a virgin. And yet, I’m willing and at their mercy with one flirty line or bad boy grin. Not something I’m entirely proud of, but after spending so many years repressing every sexual thought, it’s empowering to be desired, if only for a short time. Lord knows I wouldn’t know the first thing to do if either of them made a move.

  Speaking of insanely sexy men, today is Austin’s turn to play teacher, and I find his smile incredibly distracting as he demonstrates a chord progression on one of the songs I want to learn. “Like that. Got it?”

  “Yeah.” My voice comes out huskier than I intend and maybe I’m projecting, but I swear his eyes heat as they meet mine. Before I take the guitar, my cell pings from where it rests on the floor between us.

  Lexi: Checking in. Everything good?

  I glance over at Austin, who’s positively reading my text messages. He gives me a look that says, yeah you caught me, so what? I roll my eyes and reply before she begins to worry.

  Me: All good. You?

  Lexi: Missing my favorite people. Two more weeks to go!

  Me: I know! I miss you, too.

  Lexi: It’s killing me not to be there. Guys treating you good?

  I hesitate before answering since I know Austin’s peering over my shoulder. An idea strikes and I fight to hold back a smile. For as much as he messes with me, this is fair play. I type out the text I have no intention of sending.

  Me: Everyone is really sweet. Well, except for Austin. He’s a dirty pervert.

  “What? You can’t send that!” He rips the phone from my hands and I break into giggles while he deletes the entire message.

  “Worried my sister might kick your ass?” I lift my brows, still unable to rein in my amusement.

  He straightens his spine and hands me the guitar. “Yes. Actually, I am. She’s scary. And surprisingly strong for being so little.” He holds my phone away and narrows his glare. “If I give this back, no more incriminating messages.”

  “Deal.” I nod and take back my cell to finish answering my sister.

  Me: They are absolute gentlemen. Even Austin.

  I lift my gaze before hitting send.

  Austin’s smirk pulls at his lips in the most attractive way. I don’t know how he does it, but with that one look I almost forget who I am and that I shouldn’t fling myself at his feet. For about the thousandth time this week I wonder what it would be like to kiss him.

  “You were right about one thing.” His voice lowers to a gravelly hum that pulls my body toward his.

  “What’s that exactly?” I hold his gaze. My pulse picks up but other than that I’m proud of myself for not melting into a puddle of goo.

  “I am a dirty little pervert.” His eyes heat with wickedness that goes straight between my legs.

  I swear I stop breathing for a full ten seconds just to take in his words. I can’t tell if he’s messing with me, so I react the only way that doesn’t leave me vulnerable and stupid. “You’re the worst.” I roll my eyes and shove at his shoulders.

  He erupts with laughter and just like that the tension between us breaks. He’s back to big brotherly Austin.

  I text a good-bye to Lexi, and once again pick up the Gibson.

  “She’s going to be so impressed.” He’s talking about the guitar, and the surprise of finding out I’ve been taking lessons, but his compliment seeps into all the insecurity and doubts I shove deep down inside. There’s nothing I want more than to make my sister proud. To unearth a connection between us that’s more than blood.

  I lift my gaze to his. “You think? I still have a long way to go.”

  “It’s the meaningfulness of the gesture.” He reaches out and corrects my fingers on the strings. “She’ll understand.” He nods.

  I swallow the thickness of emotion that wells in my chest. He gets it. I hope he’s right. With my focus back on the instrument, I practice through the piece Austin’s teaching me today. He and Leighton have different styles, but I enjoy learning from each of them. Since we’ve set the schedule, they’ve been really good at giving the other space, too. Like right now, Leighton’s across the room writing in a notebook with his headphones on.

  If he’s bothered by my time with Austin, he’s really good at hiding it. Which is good. Really good. But there’s a tiny part of me that’s disappointed in his lack of interest. Which is insane and childish. I push those thoughts aside for the next hour and concentrate on the real reason either of these men is giving up his time: to teach me to play.

  “Last lesson of the day. Something really, really important.” Austin takes the Gibson out of my hands and sets it back inside the case. When he straightens his shoulders, he levels me with a stare that fills my gut with apprehension.

  “Okay?” I drag the word out and wait for his wisdom.

  “You cannot fall in love with me.” He winks and flashes a smile that causes my heart to flutter erratically. Damn him for being so gorgeous. But if he thinks all it takes is one smile for this girl to fall hard, he has another thing coming. Sure, he’s beautiful, and if he asked I’d most definitely make out with him, but that’s nothing close to love.

  “You really are full of yourself, Austin Jones.”

  “Thank you.”

  “That wasn’t a compliment.” I roll my eyes.

  “I’m glad we’ve had this little chat. I feel much better. Don’t you?”

  “Sure you’re okay?” I question and lift the back of my hand to touch against his forehead. “You feel fine, but your head is huge right now.” I pull my hand back into my lap. “Must be really hard toting around such a large ego.”

  “All I heard was huge and hard, and while I get it, there’s no need to compliment my manhood.” His gaze flits down to his crotch. “I’m already self-assured.”

  “Oh, my Lord! You are the worst.”

  “Ouch.” He rubs the center of his chest but his grin lights up his face as if that’s the nicest compliment I could give. “That stings.”

  “You’ll survive.”

  “Maybe.” The bus slows with traffic to almost a complete stop and we both glance out the window. Almost to Milwaukee. “I better go find myself a woman who can heal the damage you caused my heart.”

  “Bruised ego?”

  “Po-tay-to. Po-tah-to.”

  It’s good we’re having this conversation. Though lighthearted, it’s a reminder for my own heart not to get wrapped up in how good it feels to have his undivided attention. It’s only temporary and not meant for more. He hooks up with a different woman at every stop. “I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding a woman to warm your bed for a few hours.”

  “Bed? Don’t be ridiculous.” His brows shoot up with offense before he flashes another wicked smile. “A couch or wall will suffice.”

  “You are bad.” I shake my head, but it’s the boyish grin plastered on his lips that makes it difficult not to smile back.

  “You’ve got that right.” He shoves to his feet once the brakes on the bus squeal with their final stop. “Better go before I turn Big Bad Wolf on you Red. Good work today.”

  I hate that nickname.

  Red.

  It’s the most unoriginal and overused one from my childhood. Make fun of the gi
rl with the red hair because she sticks out like a sore thumb. It’s not as if we get to choose our physical attributes. The color of my hair and the freckles that scatter across my pale skin are out of my control. I’ve tried to find beauty in them, but it’s hard when hateful words from my younger years still stick in my mind. I’m not ugly, I know this now, but I wasn’t born to be a knockout beauty, either. I don’t stand out with the kind of star power my half-sister was seemingly born with. I don’t walk and speak with the same confidence the fans have backstage at these meet and greets. I’m still figuring myself out, but there are some things, like red hair and thousands of freckles, that I can’t change. I might as well accept them.

  “Opal.” Trent interrupts my thoughts and slides into the chair at my right.

  “What’s up?”

  “We have the radio station interviews this afternoon.”

  “Yes, four of them.” I nod. “I put the reminder in your phone.”

  His lips pull into a wide grin. “I want you there.”

  “Oh, okay.” He’s never asked me along to any of these press outings they do pre-show. He’s been keeping me busy. My PA job is not a cover but legitimate work, which I appreciate. I’m still overpaid, but I try to make up for that by cooking meals and helping out wherever I can. If Trent wants me along today, I’ll be there. “Whatever you need.”

  “I’ll probably use you for basic stuff like finding coffee, but I’d like you to see this side of the tour life. I mean, if you’re cool with that?”

  My stomach churns with nerves. It’s more unknown. Another environment in which I’ll have no clue what I’m doing or how things work. Lord, I don’t even have a suitable outfit for the occasion. I can’t very well show up in ratty old jeans or cutoffs. One of my Sunday dresses will have to do. “I’m your PA. If you want me there, I’m there.”

  He tilts his head and narrows his stare. “What’s the problem?”

  “No problem.” I shake my head and paste on a smile I don’t really feel.

  “You have a crease.” Trent reaches forward and taps my forehead. “Here. It’s only there when you seem worried. They won’t interview you. You’ll be behind the scenes the entire time.” His concern and protection is endearing.

  “It’s not that.” My hands twist together in my lap. “I just . . . I don’t really have anything appropriate to wear.”

  “Oh, that.” He waves a hand like that’ll take away my worry. “Consider the problem solved.”

  “And how’s that?” I let loose a chuckle at his dismissal. Knowing Trent, he really does have everything taken care of.

  “I know people. Trust me.”

  I don’t know whether he really has a plan or is bullshitting me to keep my fears at rest, but it hits me that I really do trust him, and that sure is a wonderful feeling.

  Trent wasn’t messing around. The minute we pull up to the arena he sends me off to meet with the wardrobe team. “Kelli and Stu are the best.”

  “He speaks the truth.” The guy who I assume is Stu steps forward and takes my hand. He makes a clucking sound and spins me in a circle, his gaze critical and serious.

  “I need her back in an hour. Work your magic.” Trent taps the doorframe and heads out to sound checks.

  I bite my lip, nervous and unsure of what exactly I should do after Stu drops my hand.

  “I’m thinking Emma Stone with a dash of Sasha Fierce.” He tilts his head and taps his chin.

  “Totally.” The woman who must be Kelli steps forward and touches my hair. “Your hair is beautiful. So healthy and long.”

  “Thanks,” I say, unsure exactly how to take the compliment.

  “It’s a hairdresser’s dream.” Her gaze flicks to Stu’s. “You better give me a solid thirty minutes.”

  “Psshh.” He waves her off.

  “I’m serious. Get your shit together, Stu. I don’t get hair like that. Ever.”

  “Fine.” He drags the word out like a whine before strutting across the small room as if it were a catwalk. “Come, girl. Papa Stu’s gonna take good care of you.”

  Kellie gives him a warning glare. “Don’t scare her, either.”

  “Now that, I can’t promise.” He turns to stare at my body again and gives a little clap. “You’re perfect. God, I’d die for that figure. Pilates?”

  “Oh.” I drop my gaze and wrap my arms around my waist. “I don’t really workout.”

  He gasps. “Shut the fuck up.” The words roll off his tongue as if they’re one. “Girl, I so hate you right now.”

  It’s a compliment I’m not used to and I don’t know how to respond. I’ve always been called gangly or boyish with my too-long limbs and lack of womanly curves. Thankfully, Stu’s too busy riffling through the containers of clothes to notice or acknowledge my awkwardness. He continues to talk to himself, alternating between cussing and squeals before he turns back with full arms.

  “If they’re not the right size we can work with it.” He hands me the clothes and points to a door.

  Inside is a private changing area and I strip out of my cutoffs and blouse, trading them for a thin worn white tee with the black vinyl Rock Chick splayed across the chest. I don’t have my white bra on, but could grab it from the bus before the meeting. Next I pull up the black cotton skirt. Holy— Okay, I think this is the wrong size. It’s much too short.

  A rap at the door causes me to jump. “Don’t keep us in suspense!”

  I quickly slide my arms through the jacket, a black fitted woman’s suit with blocks of black satin that bring a sophistication to the simplicity of the design. I leave the mirror and fling open the door before I lose courage.

  “Damn . . .” Stu fans his face with his mouth popped open in a wide O.

  Kellie’s face spreads wide with a smile. She pats Stu on the shoulder. “Grasshopper, you did good.” She meets my gaze. “You are fucking hot. My turn.” She pats the chair in front of the vanity.

  “Maybe it’s too short?”

  “Naw, baby girl. It’s perfect.” Stu’s eyes widen and he jumps up and down as if he’s just had an epiphany. “What size shoe?”

  “Nine.” I sit in the chair.

  “Tell me you’re putting her in boots.” Kellie spins me to face the mirror and undoes the loose braid in my hair to brush out the strands.

  “Is the Pope Catholic?” he smarts before popping open another case. Seriously, how or why they hold a department store of clothing options is beyond me, but I’m thankful. “Short or over the knees?”

  “Over the knees,” Kellie decides and then pushes my head forward. “Chin down.” She works with precision and I like that she’s not chatty. It’s comfortable not having to keep up pleasantries. She spins the chair before I catch a glimpse at the curls in my hair and I wonder if that’s on purpose.

  “Close your eyes,” she commands, and begins swiping makeup on my face. She doesn’t ask what I want, and I wouldn’t know how to answer anyway. Grams and Gramps never allowed it, so beyond lip gloss, I don’t even know how to apply it properly.

  My phone pings from the other room but before I can ask, Stu’s already on it. “Want me to read it to you?”

  “Like you haven’t already snooped. She’s not blind.”

  “Fine.” I can practically hear his eyes roll. Though the intrusion of privacy would normally feel pushy, there’s something about these two that seems safe.

  “Open.” Kellie’s voice softens and my face is free of brushes.

  I do and as my eyes adjust to the brightness of the room, Kellie’s satisfied smile comes into view along with Stu scrolling through my phone.

  “Go ahead and read it to me.”

  His gaze lifts and his eyes widen a moment. “Damn, girl.” He turns to Kellie and lifts his hand for a high five.

  She steps forward, a pencil in hand. “Lips and we’re done.”

  I hold still and as she paints them with color Stu reads from my cell.

  “Sound checks wrapped up early. We are getting foo
d. Meet you at the station. Car will be waiting when you’re ready.” He glances up from my phone. “Lucky. You get texts every fucking day from that delicious hunk of man.”

  I smile but Kellie’s brow furrows. “Almost done. There.”

  “Trent? He’s like a brother.”

  “Brother I’d like to fuck.”

  “Stu. Enough. No scaring.” Kellie rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “He came without a filter.”

  “And you love me.” Stu hands me my phone along with the most ridiculous pair of shoes I’ve ever seen. “Put these on.”

  At my puzzled expression he unzips the inside of one and pulls it up my leg. Made of what looks and feels to be a velour fabric, they’re ten times more comfortable than they appear. I stretch out my legs and with a hand from Stu, step out of the chair.

  “You ready, darlin’?” He braces my shoulders and turns me toward the large mirrored wall.

  Who?

  How?

  “Oh, goodness.” I finally breathe out, still not able to reconcile the woman in the mirror to myself.

  “You like?” Kellie steps to my left, her smile full of pride and admiration.

  “I don’t even look like me.” It’s the honest to goodness truth.

  “Is that a good thing?” she asks.

  The outfit is badass. With the shoes I’m powerful, in charge, and edgy enough to be considered an actual part of the Three Ugly Guys’ staff. Gone is the timid country girl. “I’m not sure.”

  “In this case, I’d say it’s a fan-fucking-tabulous thing. Girl, you look ready to slay,” Stu says.

  “I do, don’t I?” Still, it’s strange to see a confident, sexy woman when I don’t feel it at all. Deep down I still feel like a misplaced child. An orphan.

  Kellie surprises me, her hand coming around my waist and tugging me forward with her until we’re only a few inches from my reflection. “Who do you want to be, Opal?”

  I stare into the mirrored glass. The girl who smiles back feels ready to take on the world. Or a group of gorgeous rock stars. “I don’t know. But I’m ready to find out.”