Only for You

by Marquita Valentine

  Cole

  I’m almost there. I can hear the crowd chanting her name.

  Breaking into a run, I haul ass down the darkened corridors, hoping like hell Jaxon didn’t give me bad directions. When I’d found him earlier tonight, he was already three sheets to the wind.

  A left at the Panther Country sign.

  The entire place goes silent, and I slow, the only sound is the echo of my boots.

  What the hell?

  Suddenly, her voice comes over the speakers. Beautiful and angelic.

  She’s singing my song.

  A grin breaks free, and I start running again. She’s waiting on me. This is my last chance, because after tonight—she’s gone.

  I dodge roadies and fan girls along the way, then bump into a couple of bodyguards.

  “Sorry,” I mutter, trying to get past them, but they’re like a great big wall of nice suits and muscles as they turn in unison.

  “What do we have here?” one says, flashing a smile filled with gold caps.

  I hold up my pass. “I’m legit.”

  “Could be a forgery,” the other says, and then looks at me. “We’ve had trouble with those in the past.”

  “It’s mine, I swear.” Yeah, this is the exact opposite of every conversation I’ve ever had with security. Panting, I dig out my wallet and flip it open. “See the name, Cole Morgan, matches this name, also Cole Morgan.”

  “Smart ass.”

  “Hey, just trying to help you guys out.”

  Bodyguard one looks at bodyguard two. “I think further investigating is needed.”

  “C’mon.” I slip my wallet back in my pocket. “Help a guy out. I’m just trying to get my girl back.”

  The one without the gold caps tips back his head, looking down at me. “Why’d she leave you in the first place?”

  “She didn’t leave me.”

  “So you left her?”

  I do not have time for this. “No.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “Short version: Three months ago, I was a dick and told her that she’s better off without me.”

  Gold-cap dude grimaces. “You’re not making your case.”

  “I don’t want to make my fucking case,” I yell. “I want to get to that stage and ask Rae to forgive me.” Along with some other things, but a man can’t show everything he’s got up his sleeve.

  “Who’s Rae?”

  “Rae’s Violet.”

  “I thought her name was Violet Lynn.”

  “It is her name.”

  “But you’re looking for Rae, and the only person on stage right now is Violet and she’s singing to some guy named…” Non-gold-capped teeth dude turns to the other guy. “What was the dude’s name?”

  “Cole,” I offer.

  “Colt. Colt Morgan.”

  I want to bang my head against the wall. “I’m sure Rae… I mean Violet, meant Cole Morgan.” I hold up my backstage pass and bare my teeth in the semblance of a smile at the dudes.

  They shake their heads, grab my arms, and start to haul me away. “We have a very special place for guys like you.”

  I fight them the entire way, shouting Rae’s name, until, that is, one of my jailers smacks me upside the head. I see stars.

  “Not so hard.”

  “He’ll mess up her concentration.”

  “It’s a pretty song.”

  “My favorite song she’s ever sung before.”

  “It’s my damn song,” I grumble, trying to clear the stars.

  They shove me through a door, closing it after them. I pound on the door, check to see if it’s locked, and finally slide to the floor in complete defeat.

  “Fuck.”

  It’s dark as anything in here, but Rae sounds like she’s right beside me.

  The door opens and the light flips on. When my eyes adjust, I realize that there’s a girl standing there with curly brown hair and square glass. Recognition flashes. “Bliss Davenport?”

  She smiles at me. “Cole Morgan.”

  “I’d really like to know what you’re doing here, but I really need—”

  “To get on stage?” She holds out her hand. “Follow me.”

  Bliss and I race down the hall, dodging boxes and people.

  “Just a few more feet,” she says.

  The song ends and I’m almost there. I’m almost to her.

  Suddenly, Bliss stops and I look around; it’s nearly pitch black.

  “Where are we?”

  The house lights go up and I see my girl, head bowed and standing on stage in a little, white dress. Her hair is long and blond, without any other color.

  “Good luck, Cole.”

  “Thanks, Bliss.”

  “No, thank you,” I think she replies, but I’m too caught up in Rae.

  Nothing’s going to stop me now.

  Taking a deep breath, I stride to her.

  Chapter Thirty

  Jaxon

  Now that I’ve done my good deed of the century, I can leave this tour and work on getting my life straight. I can finally get out from under Everett’s thumb.

  In the end, it didn’t matter if Violet believed me or not. I know the truth, and that’s all that matters.

  For now anyway.

  “That was nice of you,” Bliss says.

  Not bothering to get up, I glance over my shoulder just as the door shuts behind her. She drops a duffle bag on the floor.

  “What makes you think I had anything to do with that?” Gesturing at the monitor, I stretch my legs out further along the couch in the dressing room.

  “Because you say things like that.” She walks across the room and sits in a folding chair, but not before placing it right beside me.

  I’m trying like hell not to notice her, not after our conversation the other night. And certainly not after I felt her up on my bus. She needs to leave.

  “What do you want, Bliss?”

  “To watch the show. Oh, that’s the sweetest thing,” she sighs, and I roll my eyes, not bothering to see what my brother has done on stage.

  “You could do that anywhere,” I point out.

  Her profile is still to me, glasses perched on her cute nose, full lips smiling. Her hair flows down her back, and now I know what it feels like, how those curls like to wrap possessively around my fingers when I touch them… I swallow.

  “I thought you could use the company.”

  “You think I want you for company?”

  She smiles in answer, turning to me. Once again, I’m struck by her quiet beauty—it’s deeper than skin deep. It radiates from her, but in a completely unassuming way.

  I try again. “You thinking we could be friends or something?”

  She grabs the remote and clicks off the television. “I don’t think we could be just friends, Jackson.”

  There’s she goes with my real name. “I think you’re right.”

  Her smile falls. “Oh.”

  I crook a finger at her. “Why don’t you join me?”

  She stands, little pink tongue darting out to lick her lips. “There’s not enough room.”

  “Baby, you have to climb on top.”

  She hesitates. “But you said… you said that you didn’t want—”

  “Oh I want you, but someone was standing in the way.”

  “Violet.” Not a question but a statement.

  I nod.

  “So, I’m second place.” She glances at the door. “I think I made a mistake coming here.”

  “No mistake. It’s where you’re meant to be at this very moment.”

  Before she can walk away, I grab her hand and tug hard, sending her tumbling down on me. Her skirt rides up to her thighs, hair falling in my face. I gently push it back. Her hands come between us, pressing against me as she sits up.

  I groan at the feel of her softness against my really inconvenient erection.

  “You smell like whiskey,” she says.

  “That’s because I’m drunk as shit.” My fingers
go to the buttons of her shirt, undoing them slowly. She might think I’m being seductive as hell, but it’s really because I can’t see straight and my hands are shaking.

  “And that’s the only way you’ll be with me?” She shrugs out of her shirt and takes a deep breath, the plain white bra hiding what I want to see.

  Her tits look to be a handful, but I got whiskey vision. I cup them, feeling her nipples harden against my palms.

  “A bit bigger than a handful,” I murmur, squeezing a little.

  She gasps, her hips rocking. “Do that again.”

  “Why are you here, Bliss? Just to get your cherry popped by someone famous?” A low blow, even for me.

  “No.” She tries to scramble off my lap, but I stop her, digging my hands into her waist and keeping her in one spot. “Let me go.”

  “Hey, hey, stay with me.” I gently cup her face, making her look at me. “Ignore my less-than-flattering questions, beautiful girl. That’s just the whiskey talking.”

  She glances around again, and then fixes her gaze on me as my hands travel back to her tits, covering them. “Okay.”

  “Now tell me why you’re here.”

  “Because tonight’s the last stop on the tour.” She takes off her glasses and rubs her nose, then puts them back on. Something I’m finding very cute. Everything she does is cute, and everything she does turns me on.

  Never in my life have I been turned on by cute.

  The tits that bounce against my hands remind me that not everything about the female on top of me is cute. She’s downright sexy.

  “And?”

  A frown appears and I sit up, maneuvering us so that she’s straddling my lap and my feet are on the floor. Her tits are in my face and I press my forehead to the center of them and breathe in her scent. She smells like lemons, and her heart is beating like crazy.

  Her hand goes to my neck, playing with the chain around it.

  I lean back, removing my mouth from that very dangerous part of her body, and she lets go.

  “It’s my last night too.” She reaches behind her and before I know it, the material of her bra falls over the tops of my hands. “I thought we could spend it together.”

  Oh God, she’s offering me no-strings, never-see-you again, good-bye sex, and my damn conscience is making me hesitate. “I don’t want you to go, yet. I can’t imagine my life right now, without you in it.” The truth, it’s all true for me. Or it’s bottle number two of the whiskey I’m half-finished drinking.

  “Where would I stay? What would I do? My… internship is over, and a new person will be going on the world tour.”

  “There won’t be a world tour.”

  “Don’t ruin your career, Jackson.”

  “You could stay with me, be my assistant or something.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, the tiniest part of my brain is shouting at me, telling me to take it back.

  “I don’t want to work for you.” She leans closer and takes hold of my wrists. “Like I said, I don’t screw my employer.”

  At this moment, I have two choices.

  One—I can help her back into her clothes and send her on her way.

  Two—I can ignore my conscience, screw her senseless, and watch her leave tomorrow.

  I don’t like either of my choices, so I go with a third one.

  “Do you have anywhere else to go?”

  She slowly shakes her head.

  “You’re not a college intern, are you?” I ask, voicing the suspicion I’ve kept to myself for months.

  A slight hesitation, and then, “No.”

  “Please tell me you’re over eighteen, and your real name is Bliss Davenport.”

  “I over eighteen, and Bliss Davenport is my real name.”

  Thank God for small favors. “Wanna get out of here?”

  Her eyes search my face, then she leans in and brushes the lightest of kisses on my cheek. “Yes.”

  I set her on her feet, turning my back so she can get dressed and grab her bag. I grab my wallet, the half-empty bottle of whiskey, and the keys to Everett’s car. He’s here tonight, and I know he’s raising Cain over Violet’s impromptu set change, so that gives me time I normally wouldn’t have.

  “Let’s go.” We sneak out into the hallway, walking fast, with her hand tightly gripped in mine. “Can you drive stick?” I ask once we’re outside.

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t you need a purse or something?”

  “Everything I own is in this bag.”

  That’s going to have to change. “Get in.”

  She drives and I drink. By some miracle, we make it through all the security detail without incident. Once on I-85, she glances at me.

  “Where to?”

  I point the bottle at the sign that reads: Charleston, next two exits. “Know a real good bar down there. Place we can stay too. Right on the beach.”

  “You sure?” she asks, as if she’s having second thoughts.

  “Completely.” I close my eyes and smile as she changes lane. “Wake me up when we hit the city limits.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Violet

  Out of the corner of my eye, I realize the stage manager is waving furiously at me. Yep, Everett’s pissed.

  Good.

  But then she points, stage right, and I turn just a little.

  Walking to me, across the stage, is Cole.

  He’s all I can see. Wearing one of his plaid shirts, ear gauges, and leather wraps around his wrists, he is this country girl’s dream come true.

  He looks a little dazed, a little nervous, and a whole lot mine.

  “Cole!” I cry out, dropping my guitar and running to him.

  Sweeping me up in a hug, he wraps his strong arms around me. “I’m sorry baby. I’m here, and I’m so damn sorry.”

  The crowd goes wild, whooping and hollering, their loyalty not tied to Jackson and me, but rather a good show.

  And this, no matter how real it is to me, is a good show to them.

  “Damn, I missed you,” he breathes, right before he kisses me.

  I get lost in that kiss. Everything in both of us is poured into that kiss—desire, lust, love, and all the nights I’ve missed spending in his arms.

  Slowly, I pull away, keeping my gaze fixed on Cole. I’m terrified that this is a dream, that I’ll wake up and he’ll be gone, like so many times before.

  He sets me on my feet and takes one step back. “Stop shaking, Rae. I’ve got you, and this time, I’m not letting go.” He goes down on one knee, pulling out a box, and holding it up. There’s a ring inside, beautifully made just for me.

  “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, done things I’m not proud of, but none of those things compared to sending you away. I’ve been suffocating without you. Please forgive me for what I did, for not believing in us and trusting in you.”

  “I forgive you. I forgave you a long time ago,” I whisper, tears falling freely. The huge hole in my heart is being filled by this man, and the constant lump in my throat is finally going away. I feel alive again.

  He smiles at me, making my knees shake. “Marry me, Rae, and make me an honest man.”

  “YES!” I shout. He slips the ring on, his hands trembling, and I touch his face. “I love you, Cole Morgan.”

  “Not nearly as much as I love you, Violet Rae Givens.” He stands and sweeps me off my feet, heading off stage.

  “The show’s not over.”

  “For them it is.”

  Still unable to comprehend exactly how he got here, I look around. My parents are standing off to the side, Kimberly happy and Davis, well, my dad’s not unhappy.

  Everett stands behind him with Kyle Masters, the producer my parents decided not to go with. Everett’s eyes narrow and Kyle leers at me.

  Refusing to be intimidated by either of them, I lift my chin as we scoot around him.

  Cole pauses, and then looks back at his dad.

  “She’s done, with you, with all of this.”

>   “You her manager now?”

  A slow grin breaks out on his face and I want to kiss him again. “No. I’m just the man who loves her and knows too damn much about your personal life, especially in Atlanta with Tara Flowers.”

  Shockingly, Everett’s face pales, even as his mouth goes flat. Or maybe it’s not that shocking at all. The man cares about business more than family… and his reputation more than the kids he fathered.

  “Fine. She’s out.” He steps aside, but not before trying to get in a last little dig. “The only reason Jaxon went to you was because he and the guys were tired of her games.” I’ll give it to the man; he’s sly, saying just enough to imply what he means without actually calling me a slut.

  This time my dad steps forward, fist connecting with Everett’s face. Everett stumbles back, and then hits the floor, landing on his tail. “That’s my daughter you’re talking about, you filthy piece of crap. And you’re right, she is out. She’ll never be back in either.”

  Cole makes a noise of approval. “That’s one hell of a left hook you got.”

  My dad turns to us, ignoring Everett’s moans of pains and the emergency crew on hand that rushes to him. “Used to box in college.”

  “So, this is all right with you?”

  My dad glances at me. I’m still in Cole’s arm, still have my arms wrapped around his neck. I’m not going anywhere. “I would have preferred you come talk to us first.”

  “Dad!”

  My momma joins us. “Only because we would have helped you out tonight.” She shakes her head, a smile on her face. My momma is a romantic, and this is right up her alley. “How in the world did you get back here, without—?”

  “Jaxon gave me a backstage pass.”

  I blink up at Cole. “He helped you?”

  He nods. “I think you broke his heart.”

  “I doubt that.”

  Everyone turns their attention to me. “Why do you think that?” Cole asks.

  “A little seamstress has been in his heart for months now.”

  My parents and Cole just give me this look, but I don’t care. Maybe Jaxon has finally learned his lesson, or finally learned to stand up to Everett. Really, it’s not my problem… it was never my problem. I wish him well. I wish him love and happiness.