Down To You: Rockstar Romance (Sixth Street Bands Book 5)

by Jayne Frost

  And then Mama was on the line. “I swear, I don’t know where she comes up with this stuff. What does she know from penises? She’s fourteen!”

  Pressing my lips together, I stifled a laugh. “Do you want me to tell you how much I knew about penises when I was her age?”

  A shadow fell over me, and I moved my arm, squinting into the bright sunshine. “If she doesn’t, I do,” Logan declared, a sinful smile curving his lips as he plopped down next to me.

  My mouth fell open, because what the hell was he doing here? The pond was nowhere near the carriage houses.

  “Ma … let me call you back.”

  Since my mother had a habit of ignoring my first request to end a call, it took me three tries to get her off the phone. By that time, Logan was stretched out with his legs crossed at the ankles, sucking on a blade of grass.

  “Hey,” I said, pushing a hand through my hair.

  “Don’t ‘hey’ me.” He cut his gaze to mine and raised a pale brow. “Spill.”

  “Spill?”

  He rolled halfway onto his side, his weight on one palm. “Penises. Tell me all about it.” My eyes flicked over to Daryl, who was now standing a few yards away with his back to us. Logan looked over his shoulder. “Nice guy,” he said of my bodyguard. “Met him this morning when I was doing the walk of shame from your place. Not really much of a talker.” He brought his gaze back to mine. “So … about the penises.”

  I laughed. Honestly, I couldn’t help it. “Do you have questions about something? A burning sensation perhaps?”

  Amused and maybe a little surprised by my comment, he snorted. “Nope. Just wondering how old you were when you tamed the one-eyed monster.”

  My cheeks ignited, burning with the heat of the sun. “No way. That’s too personal.”

  Logan scooted closer, dipping his head to whisper in my ear. “I know what you taste like. And the sounds you make when you come. I don’t think there’s anything too personal at this point.”

  When I turned slightly, his lips were right there. So close I could feel his breath fan over me. “All right. But you go first. How old were you?”

  His mouth curved into a shit-eating grin. “Fifteen.” I blinked at him, and he chuckled. “It’s different for guys. That’s like number one on the bucket list. Find a girl and—”

  “Fourteen,” I blurted, biting down my own smile.

  Logan fell onto his back, his chuckle turning to a full belly laugh. When he got a hold of himself, he tucked an arm behind his head. “No wonder Rhenn was always smiling.”

  For a moment there was only silence. Even the air grew still while I waited for the clouds to press down on me and the pain to bloom in my chest. When nothing happened, a bubble of laughter tripped from my lips. “Never thought of it that way.”

  Logan’s palm trailed up my arm and over my shoulder, fingers twining into my hair. “I’ve got something for you. Hold out your hand and close your eyes.”

  My lips parted, but his thumb found that spot at the base of my throat and I reluctantly complied. “I hope I’m not going to regret this,” I mumbled, holding my palm up.

  He moved away from me for a second, and I heard paper crinkle. And then I felt something warm on my skin.

  “Okay, you can look.”

  My lids fluttered open, and I tilted my head. “It’s a cookie.” I blinked at him. “You brought me a cookie.”

  “Oatmeal raisin. The chef swears it’s fresh from the oven.” He broke off a large piece and held it to my lips. After I took a nibble, he popped the rest in his mouth. “It’s good. Not as good as you, though.”

  Warmth spread through me, and I looked away.

  He tugged my sleeve. “Come here. Someone kept me up all night. I need to rest my eyes.”

  I scooted to his side, and his arm looped around me, pulling me against his solid frame. Soon his breathing evened out, but I couldn’t relax. So I settled for eating the rest of my cookie and listening to Logan’s heart beating a gentle rhythm under my ear.

  30

  Tori sipped from her shot glass, her fingers skating over the bottles of spirits as she strolled around the gift shop at Prichard’s Distillery. Biting her lip, she levered up on her toes, reaching for a fancy private-label rum on a high shelf.

  I pushed off the wall where I’d been watching her for the last half hour.

  Sliding one hand to her hip, I used the other to pluck her selection from the ledge. “Is this what you want?”

  She slanted her gaze to mine, amber eyes hooded from all the liquor we’d sampled. “Yes. Thank you.”

  Stupidly, I’d thought arranging a private after-hours tour of the distillery would be a easy way to steer us back into the safe zone. Because that’s where we needed to be. I’d known it from the moment I’d woken up in Tori’s bed this morning. We hadn’t fucked. And that was a good thing. Because once my head was clear, I knew I couldn’t be trusted with all the shattered pieces of her soul. I wasn’t that guy. But damn, just being around her was enough for me to question my decision.

  Slipping the basket from the crook of her arm, I added the bottle to her growing assortment. “I think you’ve got enough here. You ready?”

  Tori pursed her lips, examining her haul. “I want a pint of the Cranberry Reserve for Taryn. Help me find it, and then we can go.”

  She scooted off to begin her quest while I loitered by a display on a big oak barrel, trying to interpret the labels.

  “Can I help you with something?”

  I jerked my gaze to Brooke, our tour guide, who’d somehow managed to sidle over without me noticing. Batting her eyelashes, she peered up at me with a tempting smile. Except, I wasn’t tempted. Not by her big brown eyes, or her pouty lips, or even her smooth skin.

  I took a step back when her arm brushed against mine. “Yeah. I’m looking for the Cranberry Reserve.”

  Extracting a bottle from the center of the display in front of us, she inclined her head. “You mean this one?”

  Normally, I’d pour on the charm. Get her to recite every word from the label, just like I’d done with the waitress this morning when I was trying to decipher the menu at the café.

  “Is there any other cranberry?” When she shook her head, I shrugged. “Then I guess this is the one.”

  Brooke caught my arm when I turned to find Tori.

  “I’m a really big fan,” she gushed. “My friends and I have tickets to your show. Do you think I can get a picture?”

  Apprehension corkscrewed in my chest when I thought of how fast that selfie would end up on social media.

  “I’m trying to keep a low profile this week. But I’ll tell you what.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket and punched in the security code. “How about I get you some backstage passes for the show, and you can snap all the pictures you want then?”

  Beaming at me, Brooke bounced on the balls of her feet and clapped her hands. “Oh my God! That would be awesome!”

  Since I knew better than to try and gather the information myself, I held out my phone. “First and last name and your phone number.” When she made a grab for the device, I held on for an extra second. “But you can’t tell anyone I’m here. I’m serious about that.”

  She nodded eagerly. “Of course. Yeah.”

  One eye on the phone to make sure it didn’t disappear, I leaned a hip against the oak barrel.

  “Hey, I’m ready whenever you are,” came Tori’s voice from behind me.

  When I turned, and she saw our tour guide tapping away on my phone, the smile slid right off her face.

  Well, fuck.

  Before I could say anything in my own defense, Brooke piped up, “Do you want my address too?”

  And that was that.

  Tori was on her horse, cowboy boots kicking up sawdust with every step. Something about the sway of her hips or the curve of her ass, or the fire in her eyes had me grinning. And I knew I was done for. There was no safe zone. It was all heat and fire between us. And even my fear of bu
rning us both to the ground wouldn’t keep me from dancing in the flames with Tori.

  Fucking stupid.

  Brooke winced when the door slammed with enough force to rattle the bottles on the shelves. “Is she okay?”

  Chuckling, I shook my head. “Definitely not. Let me help you bag this stuff up before she takes off without me.”

  How could you let him rile you like that?

  Mentally, I slapped my inner-bitch right in the head.

  She was all harsh words and recrimination now. But where the hell was she last night when Logan was working me over with his mouth? I’ll tell you where. Moaning right along with me.

  Come to think of it, the little diva had a habit of going dark every time Logan flashed one of his heartfelt smiles. Or touched my hand in just the right way. And she purred like a kitten when he gave me that cookie, sucking down every crumb.

  He’s a douche. What did you expect?

  I stopped pacing, let my head fall forward, and muttered, “Stop lecturing me. You know you ate the damn cookie.”

  Crunching gravel, and then a low chuckle next to my ear. “No, princess, I ate the cookie,” Logan said, patting my ass as he scooted by. “Now, get in the car.”

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I glared at him as he stowed the liquor in the trunk of the Mustang.

  “That’s three hundred dollars’ worth of booze, by the way,” he said as he opened the passenger door for me to climb in. When I didn’t budge, he cocked a brow. “It’s freezing out here. What are you standing around for?”

  Seriously?

  I shook my head. “Will your friend be joining us?”

  He bit down a grin. “You shouldn’t say things like that. I mean, do you know how hard it is—” Another devious chuckle. “Yeah, you do know how hard it is. But anyway, that girl is not my friend.”

  For a moment I wished I were like him. So fucking casual. That thought, paired with the alcohol still numbing my brain, stole all the heat from my body.

  “What is she then, Lo?”

  He took a deep breath and then cut the distance between us. Long fingers sank into my hair, and I was up on tiptoe, my palms braced on his chest. “Give me a little credit, Victoria. Do you think I’d scope out another woman with you standing ten feet away?”

  He looked surprised. Like he didn’t know why he said it. Which made us even, because I didn’t know why I cared.

  I waited for him to kiss me—really kiss me— the butterflies in my belly threatening to crawl up my throat. But all I got was a brush of his lips against mine.

  “Will you get in the car now?” His gaze flicked to the only other vehicle in the parking lot. Daryl’s. “I think your bodyguard is watching us.”

  “It’s his job.”

  “Perv.” Smiling, he brought his eyes back to mine. “Him … not you. I don’t have any evidence on you yet. But you look kinda kinky.” His hand slid to my ass, and I squirmed. “Yeah. You’re definitely a little freak. And you’re shaking. Are you ready to go?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t want this to …”

  He buried his face in the crook of my neck, and his lips curved against my skin. “End,” he whispered.

  I nodded, even though I knew it had to. Just not right now. And if I had to stand in a parking lot in the cold, I would.

  But the choice was made for me when Logan broke our connection. Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, he gazed down at me, contemplative. “So you’re not ready to go back to the carriage house.”

  It was more statement than question, and I nodded without thinking. Something flickered in his pale blue gaze, and a bulb went off in my head.

  “Oh … I didn’t … I mean, of course we can …” I stammered, my cheeks flaming. “It’s not that I don’t want to … uh …”

  He entwined our fingers. “Good to know. We’ll save that for later.”

  I wasn’t sure if that was meant to be a threat or a promise, and since I couldn’t form words, I just kind of shrugged.

  “God, you’re fucking cute,” he said as he pulled me toward the car.

  Once we were heading for the inn, my curiosity got the better of me. “You think I’m cute?”

  The headlights from Daryl’s Jeep shone through the back window, and I squinted as I took in Logan’s profile.

  His gaze shifted to mine for a second. “What’s wrong with cute?”

  I shook my head and focused on the road. “Nothing.” The driveway for the Fontanel flew by. “Hey, you missed the turn.”

  “I didn’t think you were cute when we met,” he said slowly. “Beautiful … for sure. I mean, you’re fucking gorgeous. But cute?” He sucked air in through his teeth. “Not so much.”

  My thumb skated over the groove on my ring finger where Rhenn’s golden promise had sat for so many years.

  You’re so cute, Belle.

  Pushing the memory aside when we coasted to a stop in a nearly deserted parking lot, I looked around.

  “Where are we?” I asked when Logan creaked open my door, offering his hand.

  “You’ll see.”

  Looping an arm around my shoulder, he guided us to a foot path that disappeared into the forest. Once we’d stepped under the canopy of trees, lanterns framed the winding course, and a faint beat whispered on the breeze, barely audible over the leaves and twigs crunching under our feet. “Is that music?”

  Logan snorted, pulling me closer to his side. “Debatable.”

  As we approached the clearing, I squinted, the outline of a log cabin coming into focus. Neon signs touting sour mash whiskey and beer hung in the windows.

  Confused, I slanted my gaze up to his face. “Is this a bar?”

  He stared straight ahead, pale blue eyes glued to our destination. Even in the faint light, I noticed his ticking jaw and the lines bracketing his mouth.

  “No, baby,” he replied solemnly. “It’s a honky-tonk.”

  31

  I was in hell. The moment I’d stepped through the doors of the honky-tonk at the edge of the Fontanel property, I’d felt the hot embers charring my insides.

  Definitely hell.

  The TV in the carriage house advertised this place as a friendly bar. Bars I could handle. Clubs were all good. But this was a good old-fashioned, dyed-in-the-wool honky-tonk. The kind of place I’d avoided for years.

  I tipped back another shot of whiskey, chasing the burn with draft beer. From his post a few yards away, Daryl threw me a disapproving glare. I smiled at the dude, because, zero fucks. That’s how much I had to spare for his bullshit.

  He got the hint, shifting his gaze back to the dance floor where Tori’s latest partner, a good old boy that had to be pushing sixty-five, twirled her around. She was all smiles and perfectly sober now, while I was slipping farther into an alcohol-induced haze.

  Upside?

  None of the twenty or so patrons in the joint had a clue who we were. Probably because every one of them qualified for social security. But I wasn’t looking a gift horse in the mouth. At the rate I was going, I could very well end up on the sawdust floor, and it was comforting to know that if I did, there wouldn’t be a video to memorialize the event.

  The waitress wandered over. Smiling wide, she placed my empty shot glass on her tray. “Anything else, sugar?”

  I downed the rest of my beer and slid the mug in her direction before fishing a twenty out of my pocket. “One more.”

  She shoved the cash into the pocket of her apron. “How about the missus? Another Dr. Pepper?”

  I shook my head. “She’s not …” Tori’s laugher drifted from the dance floor. “Yeah. Bring her another. Make sure to add a couple cherries.”

  “Sure thing. Be right back.”

  Mercifully, the song ended. The clatter of boot heels on the weathered floor drew my attention to Tori. All smiles, she plopped into the chair across from me. “Dang, it’s hot.”

  Blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes, she picked up her watered-down Dr. Pepper and went di
ving around in the ice for the last cherry.

  “Having a good time?” I asked.

  “I’m having a great time. Are you sure you don’t want me to teach you how to two-step? I’m a good dancer.”

  My stomach rolled when the opening riff to “Chattahoochee” poured from the speakers. Because my trip to hell wouldn’t be complete without a little Alan Jackson.

  “I love this song!” Tori exclaimed, her smile fading when I rubbed the back of my neck. “If you hate country so much, what are we doing at a honky-tonk?”

  Because I didn’t hate it. Not even a little bit.

  Shifting my focus from her honeyed gaze, I ran a finger over the rim of my mug. “Exorcising the demons, I guess. That’s a thing, right?”

  She slid into the seat beside me. “Wanna tell me what that means?”

  Nope.

  That’s what I planned to say, but when I opened my mouth, an explanation coiled around my tongue. “I told you my mama used to listen to this music all the time. And she … um … she sang too. Not onstage. Maybe she wanted to. I didn’t know her that well, since I was only eight when she … you know …”

  In the midst of my garbled confession, a memory pushed in.

  Pale blond hair and bright blue eyes. Painted pink toes and ratty carpet.

  “Stop fussing, Lo. I learned me a new song. Sit down and tell me what you think.”

  Tori’s hand covered mine, her touch sweeping away the faint voice in my head.

  “So this reminds you of her? Your mom?” I said nothing, hoping she’d drop it. But then I felt something scratch the inside of my brain, and I realized it was Tori, probing around for an answer. “Your dad, then?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t talk about my dad, princess. The man is dead to me, so move on, ’kay?”

  She sank back into her chair, frowning.

  Silence swelled between us, and when I couldn’t take it anymore, I hauled to my feet. “Come on.”

  Folding her arms over her chest, her gaze shifted from my outstretched hand to my face. “We’re leaving?”