by Amelia Mae
Say Yes: Shawn
Say Yes Series Book Two
Amelia Mae
©Amelia Mae 2018
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Design: Aria Tan of Resplendent Media
Created with Vellum
Contents
1. Aya
2. Shawn
3. Aya
4. Aya
5. Shawn
6. Shawn
7. Aya
8. Aya
9. Shawn
10. Aya
11. Aya
12. Aya
13. Shawn
14. Shawn
15. Aya
16. Aya
17. Shawn
18. Aya
19. Shawn
20. Aya
21. Shawn
22. Shawn
23. Shawn
24. Aya
25. Shawn
26. Shawn
27. Aya
28. Shawn
29. Aya
Epilogue
About the Author
Sneak Peak
Nikki
Jack
Also Available
Prologue
Ian
Cora
Want More?
1
Aya
Six Months Ago
I’m here tonight for Cora.
I’m here to help my friend.
I will not, I repeat, NOT, get distracted by the crazy hot man walking towards me.
Okay… maybe I can take a little peek.
I’m only human after all.
When Cora invited me to the Say Yes show, it was to help her not freak out over the fact that she was going to see Ian Brooks for the first time since they were kids. He’s a big-shot musician now and she’s intimidated.
I’ve lent her my favorite red dress, which I only hope I’ll get back in one piece, and given her my famous, patented Cora, you are a boss bitch and you can get any fucking man you want pep-talk. And a firm smack on the ass.
My girl’s got this.
I’ve settled on tight black jeans, a halter top, my favorite leather jacket, and studded spike heels for the evening. I smooth back my silver-blue hair. I’ve left Cora at the bar to get us another round of drinks while I head to the bathroom to touch up my makeup. A little black eyeliner and cherry lip gloss and I’ll be ready to take on the world.
I finish drying my hands on a paper towel when someone barges in.
A man carrying several tee shirts.
A ridiculously hot man carrying several tee shirts.
Who the hell is this guy and what is he doing in the ladies’ room?
It’s then that I notice that the sign on the door reads Private, not Ladies. It had been open when I found it and I wasn’t really paying attention. I’m about to apologize profusely for barging into a private room when I realize he’s on the phone.
I should just excuse myself, but I don’t. I hide out in one of the stalls.
“It was just Nikki,” he explains to whomever he’s talking, “You remember Ian’s sister. She works for our manager. She’s always around.”
He listens to the response. I can hear that it’s a woman’s voice, but I can’t make out what she’s saying. However, it’s clear that he’s getting frustrated.
His back is to me, but I can see his reflection in the mirror when I peer through the gap in the door. I swear, his gorgeous green eyes meet mine, but I know that’s impossible. He’s caught up in his conversation and I’ve been quiet as a mouse. These doors go all the way to the floor, so it’s not like he can see my feet.
“When have I ever been a cheater, Torie?” the man asks. He sounds like he’s had this conversation with this woman before. He also sounds like he’s tired of it. “Never. I’ve never given you a reason not to trust me.”
He’s wearing a bright tee shirt with some writing on it. The Pixies, I read. He reaches behind his neck to pull it off, over his head. He stands in front of the mirror, shirtless, deciding which of his wardrobe options to put on.
I suck my bottom lip into my mouth and bite down hard to keep quiet. I shouldn’t perv on him like this, but he’s too beautiful to turn away. Broad back. Tanned skin. Solid muscle. A tattoo of a black and grey rose on his shoulder. Easily the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen up close.
“Fine,” he says into the phone after listening to the woman on the other end for several minutes. “No, I’m not going to fight with you. If you say we’re over, then we’re over. There’s nothing I can do.”
He selects a plain white tee shirt from his limited options and pulls it on quickly.
I let out a long, silent breath. It’s easier to think when he’s clothed. But he looks at himself in the mirror, decides the shirt isn’t right and takes it off. He’s still talking to this woman, but I’ve stopped listening in favor of watching him change clothes.
Fuck, I could watch this all night.
Suddenly, he lets out a dejected sigh. “Goodbye, Torie.”
Whoa, did this guy just get dumped? He takes several deep breaths and smooths his hair back.
Yeah. I’m pretty sure I just watched a man break up with his girlfriend.
I wait.
I wait for him to explode. And he has every right to. The man just got broken up with. And apparently accused of cheating. I wait for him to yell and punch something and, I don’t know, rip the paper towel dispenser off the wall and chuck it across the room.
But he doesn’t. He’s perfectly calm.
How is he so calm after all that?
Unless he’s plotting some more elaborate revenge.
Stop it, Aya. Not all guys are like that.
He ends the call and leans against the stall door. My stall door. I hold my breath, trying to remain unnoticed. I watch as his eyes close.
There’s a knock at the door.
“Shawn,” a woman calls, “You’re on stage in ten minutes.”
“Thanks, Nikki,” the man, Shawn, tells her.
Shawn throws on a soft looking, light blue tee shirt and makes his way to the door.
“You can come out now,” he says in the direction of the stall door where I’m hiding.
Fuck.
I hear him chuckle as he leaves.
I rush back out to find Cora. She’s holding two beers, sipping one nervously.
“Finally,” she says, “What the hell happened?”
“Got a little… sidetracked. Sorry,” I tell her as she hands my my drink. I swallow about half of it very quickly, scanning the room for Shawn, hoping I can make it through the rest of the evening without running into him again.
Coast is clear. Now I can focus on helping Cora get in Ian Brooks’ pants.
Or at least I think I can until I see six feet of sun-kissed skin, light brown hair, muscle, and the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen walking towards us.
And then it hits me like a ton of bricks.
I’m flushed. Frantic. Fluttering like a hummingbird. Lightheaded. My knees are getting weak. It’s all I can do not to whimper.
I know this feeling.
Pure, unadulterated lust.
I haven’t felt it in forever.
Good thing too. It almost ruined me.
Shawn approaches Cora like he knows her and it takes me a moment to remember that they went to high school together. Cora says something awkward, but I don't hear it. I’m too busy staring like an idiot.
“Who’s your friend?” I hear Shawn ask her.
&
nbsp; “This is my friend,” Cora says, not really answering. Normally, I’d give her some shit for being so starstruck, but today I give her a break. She’s on pins and needles thinking about Ian.
The green-eyed sex god looks at her funny. “Does she have a name?” he asks.
“You could just ask me,” I pipe up, “I’m Aya Park.” I might be melting into a puddle of lust at his feet, but I’m not shy. And I hate people talking about me like I’m not right there.
I give him my hand and we shake.
I turn to face Cora. “What about him?” I ask her, pretending to ignore the guy because two can play at this game. “Does he have a name?”
He gives me a lazy grin. “Shawn Kinney,” he tells me. Then he leans in a little closer. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
He pulls away, leaving me with chills.
Cora and I are escorted to our spot, front and center, in a room full of Say Yes fans at the Anonymous Bar.
The lights go down.
The energy rises.
The girls scream. The guys scream too. Everybody fucking screams. The energy here is crazy. The fans are about to blow the roof off this place if the guys don’t come out soon.
Ian Brooks takes the drums and the crowd roars. I’ll bet anything that Cora has a mini-orgasm at the sight of him. I mean, Ian’s totally hot, but a second later, Shawn Kinney strides on stage. And for me, the world goes into technicolor.
He takes his place at stage left, right in front of us. He’s still partly in the dark, but his silhouette is tall and proud and manly. He stands with his legs spread and the strap of his bass guitar tugging down the neck of his shirt.
He’s in full-on rock star mode, powerful and intimidatingly sexy.
No trace of the hurt I saw in his eyes earlier.
I wonder if he’s confided in anyone. Or am I the only one knows that Shawn Kinney is standing on this stage, playing for his fans while heartbroken.
Do he and I have a secret?
Right on cue, the guitarist, Jack Cordero, and singer, Dylan Cotter, take their places and the band launches into Her Name in Stars. That song is golden. I love the words. I love the flow. I love the energy.
I look up at Shawn. He’s completely lost in the music, the corner of his mouth turned up into a small smile, despite everything.
He looks down at me and winks.
I feel my face get hot and my palms are slick. He’s getting sweaty. I immediately picture him bare chested again and feel that familiar throbbing between my legs.
Here it comes.
It’s official, I’m in lust with Shawn Kinney.
Which means that I have to get the fuck out of here.
Now.
Two encores later, Cora and I head back to meet the band, passing scores of insanely jealous fans. Well, some are jealous, which is totally understandable. Others glare at us with that what does she have that I haven’t got look.
“Why is she so special?” some girl asks, loudly and rudely.
I ignore it.
We hit the bar and wait while the guys make their way backstage.
“You okay?” I ask Cora as the bartender hands us another round of beers.
Her nerves are getting the better of her, but she nods anyway.
I don’t know what she’s so nervous about. Even from the stage, the connection between her and Ian was palpable. His smoldering eyes were on her. He was totally fantasizing about what he wanted to do to her later.
The audience was intruding on one long, private moment between the two of them.
I’m jealous.
Not of Cora and Ian and whatever’s about to happen there. But I just… I want someone to look at me that way.
The temperature rises. I feel eyes on me. The same beautiful green eyes from before. Attached to the same beautiful man.
Shawn Kinney. I keep hearing his name in a sing-song voice in my head. Shawn Kinney. Shawn Kinney.
I hear words. In his voice. He’s talking to me, but nothing is sinking in. I’m just watching his soft lips move and reveling in the attention.
“Aya?” he asks. “Do you want to come?”
Aya? Earth to Aya?
“What? Sorry,” I answer, “I just heard ‘come.’”
Shawn laughs and it takes me a minute to figure out why.
“Shit,” I mutter, trying to fight my blush.
He takes pity on me and doesn’t tease. “Do you want to come to a party tonight?” he repeats.
“Oh, um…” My no is on the tip of my tongue. All I have to do is decline the invitation and go back to my apartment where it’s safe and I won’t say or do something stupid because of my stupid, raging lust for Shawn Kinney.
But the word is out of my mouth before I can control it.
“Sure.”
“Great,” he says, “Meet me at the valet in a few minutes. I’ll give you a ride.”
“Great.”
My hands are shaking, so I slam the rest of my drink to keep my nerves at bay. I’m just going to a party, I tell myself. Just going to go to a party with a famous rock star. In his car, no less.
No reason to get nervous.
None at all.
My little pep talk doesn’t work.
Who am I kidding? This is no ordinary guy. I haven’t had this kind of physical reaction to someone in a long time. Maybe ever. Ugh, Shawn Kinney does something to me. Something I can’t articulate.
I look over at him as he says goodbye to a few people and he smirks.
He can tell.
I head outside towards the valet stand just as a cool black sportscar pulls up. The passenger side window lowers and I see Shawn’s face looking back at me. He doesn’t say anything to me. He just winks and I melt as I climb in.
He smiles. He has a little dimple on his left cheek that I try very hard not to like.
This is no big deal, Aya. It’s just a ride. It’s just a party.
“I like your hair,” he tells me. His voice is smooth. Low and deep and a little rumbly. It makes me shiver as I touch a long strand of silvery-blue unintentionally.
“Thanks,” I reply, unable to think of anything more interesting to say. I rack my brain for a suitable conversation topic. You know, something other than so, you got dumped a few hours ago, how was that?
“Are you okay?” I finally blurt out.
He looks confused. “Yeah. Why?”
Maybe I got the conversation all wrong. “Um, I overheard you on the phone with that girl. Sounded like a breakup.”
“It was.”
“How long were you together?” I ask.
“About a year,” he answers. His eyes are on the road, unaffected.
“And you’re just… okay with it,” I wonder out loud, “Someone accuses you of cheating and then dumps you and you’re just… go about your business.”
“I have a job to do. A show to play,” he tells me, “I can’t just drop everything to chase after a girl.”
“Yeah but… you’re not even upset about it. Did you care about her at all?”
“I loved her,” he says with a casual shrug.
“Really?” I ask rudely. The body language does not match the words coming out of his mouth. “Cause you don’t seem like…”
He cuts me off. “I know how I seem. I’m not a wear-my-heart-on-my-sleeve kind of guy, Aya. But it doesn’t mean that I don’t care.”
I nod. “Well, if you want to scream and cry and throw things, I won’t freak out.”
He smirks. “Not going to happen.”
“Planning something more devious?” I ask cautiously. Shawn doesn’t seem like the type to do something truly awful.
Then again, they never do.
“What, like, writing a nasty breakup song or mailing her a hundred tee shirts or tattooing Torie is a bitch on my arm?”
I shake my head. Those are really the nastiest things he could think of to avenge a breakup?
He narrows his eyes. “Wait, do you really think I’d do
something to, like, physically hurt Torie?”
“No, I don’t,” I answer, “But there are a lot of ways to hurt someone, Shawn.”
He looks over at me, encouraging me to elaborate, but I keep my eyes forward. If I never have to talk about it again, it’ll be too soon.
Thankfully, he takes the hint and changes the subject. “How do you know Cora?”
“We work together at the club,” I reply, “I’m a waitress too.”
“Were you working there the other night?” he asks. “We were out for Ian’s sister’s birthday party.”
“Yeah,” I answer, “I was there. But my section is on the other end of the room.”
“Oh. Interesting,” he says.
No, it’s not, I think.
God, he must really regret asking me to go out with him. First I’m badgering him for details of his breakup and now I’m boring him half to death.
“Shawn, why the hell did you invite me to this party?”
“Cause I wanted to. Is that so hard to believe?” he asks, “You’re crazy pretty.”
“Thanks. I guess.”
He blinks. “That came out wrong,” he backtracks, “I mean, you are really pretty… Wow, I’m doing a bang-up job explaining myself here.” He sighs out deeply. “I just got dumped.”
“Yeah. I was there, remember?”
He looks amused. “I could see you through the gap in the door.”
“Perv,” I say, playfully smacking his arm. “What if I had been peeing?”
“You weren’t,” he responds, “You were watching me change clothes.”