Promise Me Forever (Top Shelf Romance)

by Kate Stewart

  Lexi was a lifesaver. She put up with my self-indulgent shit for weeks before she ever suggested we go out. My answer was no, and her consolation was Ben. It worked.

  Life was marching on. It was as if he never existed. No one talked about him.

  But I felt him. Embedded. Our seven minutes on a loop, our song cut short.

  On the day I walked through the doors of Austin Speak, I was more determined than ever to forget my heart and follow the music. With a one-track mind, I greeted Sierra, who waved at me enthusiastically while she explained on the phone that Nate Butler was in a meeting. I had on new purple Converse with Eminem’s “Till I Collapse” lyrics scribbled all over the sides, but settled on a lightweight, black V-neck sweater and black slacks. I’d cut a few inches off my ornery hair and flattened it until it lay like silk over my shoulders. I was still resistant to makeup, aside from heavy mascara and lipstick.

  “Hey, you,” Sierra greeted with a warm smile. “He’s expecting you. Good job, by the way. You made one hell of an impression on him.”

  “Thanks.” Even though I knew that impression was questionable.

  “Miss Emerson here to see you.”

  Though I kept a straight face, I started to shake inside the minute Nate opened his office door. He gave me a smile and ushered me back.

  Nerves firing off, I walked past the noisy desks and avid attention of those behind them until I reached the safety of his door.

  Get a grip, Stella.

  “Hello,” I said with a smile as Nate stood at his desk, looking me over with surprise before he smirked, satisfied when he saw the shoes.

  “Good song.”

  “The best.”

  “Shut the door,” Nate said without further scrutiny. “Have a seat.”

  I shut the door as he began typing furiously, a single earbud tucked discretely below his coppery, slicked back locks. Briefly, I wondered his flavor of music. He didn’t strike me as a rap guy, but edgy rock and roll didn’t exactly fit him, either. I bit my lip as he pounded away on his keys, his lashes dancing above his pronounced cheekbones. He seemed taller, broader, more. The man was larger than life, and as he looked over at me with paralyzing blue eyes, I had no doubts he knew it.

  “Good job, Stella,” he said as he pushed away from his laptop and set his arms on his desk. “I mean that.”

  “Thank you,” I said hoarsely then cleared my throat.

  “Nervous?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t be,” he said with a wink. “I’ll buy them. You’re getting published. Have you fact checked all of this?”

  My chest pounded, my stomach queasy as I hid my elation. “Yes.”

  “No matter, I will want them checked again and reserve the right to the final draft, understood?” He pulled a folder from his desk and laid out a schedule. “You’ll be working with JJ. You two will share space with city events and entertainment. I will not break up fights between the two of you. Figure it out. Best story is always going to get picked, and Stella—” he paused, looking at me pointedly “—he’s good.”

  Intimidation and elation was a shitty combo.

  “But you can learn from him. Don’t declare him the enemy yet. He’s fair, and he’s been covering by himself since the paper started.”

  “What does JJ stand for?”

  “Never asked,” he said, furrowing his brows. “You okay? You’re pale.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, completely convincing us both that I was anything but.

  He stared at me long and hard. “Stella, if you can’t handle this, tell me right now. Circulation is growing. I need to expand the section. Things have changed drastically since the last time you were in here. We’ve been able to add four pages.”

  “I’m ready,” I said, finding my voice.

  What the hell is wrong with you? This is your shot, take it. “I’m ready.”

  “Okay, you’ll need to go over your schedule with JJ when you leave here. He’ll show you the ins and outs. I want you at a desk here once a week, one Saturday a month. Sierra will set you up with your paperwork up front. If you’re writing for money, this isn’t the job to take.”

  “Understood.”

  He clasped his hands together. “Where are you, Stella?”

  “I’m here, Nate.”

  “No,” he said as he stood and walked around his desk then leaned against it. “No, you aren’t.”

  I met his eyes head on, though my confidence had wavered drastically since I’d walked through the front door. At that moment, with the beautiful man standing in front of me, practically offering me the world, I was choking. I glanced down at my shoes.

  This is your moment.

  I met Nate’s stare again. “I’m here.”

  He was slow to smile. “Yeah,” he gave me a sexy wink. “Welcome back.”

  He brushed past me, and I inhaled a whiff of his cologne.

  “JJ,” he called from his office door.

  A minute later, a lithe guy who looked a few years older than me popped his head in the door. “Sup?”

  “This is Stella Emerson. She’s your new co.”

  “Really?” he said as he looked me over. “Can she even get into the shows?”

  I crossed my arms. “Nice to meet you, too. I’m covered.”

  “Good,” he said as he took a better look at me and walked through the door. He was tall, well groomed, and dressed like he came straight from the prep school suburbs.

  “What does JJ stand for?” I asked as we sized each other up.

  “Jon Jon.”

  Nate barked out a laugh as I glanced at him over my shoulder with a raised brow.

  Nate and I shared a conspiratorial smile.

  Eat him alive, Stella.

  He’s so screwed.

  Still, I knew better than to judge a person by their appearance. I’d been enlightened more than I cared to admit, especially in the past few months.

  “Now you two kids have fun. I have shit to do,” Nate said as he plugged his earbud back in and started to type. JJ ducked out of the office, and I turned to face him. Thank you didn’t seem like enough, and as usual, whenever I tried to think of something clever, it never came.

  “Shut the door,” Nate said with a budding twist of his lips.

  I stood there awkwardly until I had no choice but to do his bidding.

  “Where can I read you?”

  I jumped as the question was barked at my back by none other than my new partner.

  “I’m not published yet,” I said boldly. “I’m in the journalism program at UT.”

  “You’re a student?”

  “Shut the fuck up, Jon Jon,” Nate barked through the door. I bit my lips to hide my smile.

  “Really,” JJ said with pure contempt. “Never worked anywhere?”

  “No.”

  His head dropped. “Intern?”

  “No,” I said with a sigh.

  JJ raised his brows. He wore too much gel in his caramel brown hair, and way too much body spray. His khaki’s looked ironed. I decided to heed Nate’s advice.

  “Let’s go to a show tonight,” I suggested. “Let’s start that way.”

  He looked me over skeptically before nodding his head. “Fine, but I’m covering movies.”

  “Jon Jon, be nice,” Nate scolded behind the door.

  Jon Jon rolled his eyes as I pulled him away from the office door with my offer. “Tonight, you pick the place. Give me your number.” I programmed it into my phone and texted him. “Text me where and what time.”

  JJ scrutinized me again and smiled when he got to my shoes. “I’ll text you.”

  Half of the staff was staring at me like I needed to be trapped, and I was fine with that because I’d just became a colleague and threat. I held my head high as I walked back to Sierra.

  Just as I suspected, it was the music that brought JJ and me together. That night, he took me to a see a band called Score. We spent hours talking over coffee to sober up from the abundance
of beers we had. Engaged in conversation, it was the first time I felt like I may be okay since my heart hit the pavement.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Wonderwall: Oasis

  One month Later

  Some people believe intuition is the sixth sense, a gift from the soul. And while I think that’s true, my theory goes a step further. Having your heart splintered heightens that sense. Because on instinct alone, you’re constantly looking for the pieces.

  But theories always have to be proven.

  I pushed through the crowd of thousands that September with Oasis singing “Wonderwall” at my back while I choked on the dust that surrounded us. I was dripping with sweat as I pressed on through the sea of swaying bodies, my useless press badge around my neck. There were far too many competitive and recognizable papers covering Austin City Limits, and even those more reputable rags had limited backstage access. But I’d scored a ticket on Speak’s dime, and so had JJ, who I’d lost after the first few hours. We’d already split up the performances we would cover pre-show. We had a game plan and twenty-eight artists to cover in the three-day festival. Lexi and Ben had come the night before, and we’d had a blast, despite the heat and shitty conditions. That night, I was alone, and though the music was worth the amount of dirt I was steadily inhaling, the heat was a different story. Indian summer my ass. It was Texas. Fall lasted a week before freezing set in. It was obvious the heat had no plans of leaving as I dug through the sweaty faces of the mob. Not to mention Hurricane Rita was off the coast and tossing winds toward the festival, turning it into a desert storm. By the second night, I was just fighting to get through the shows and breathe. Exhausted by the struggle. Ten thousand plus people screamed around me as I shoved my way through the unfazed fans lit by stage lights. I was near panic and desperate for space.

  “Excuse me,” I said, nudging my way through as they pressed back against me. Overheated and anxious, I kept my head down and plowed through using my elbows. Almost to the edge of the mass, I felt my body stiffen as a whisper crossed my consciousness. Despite the heat, a chill ran down my spine.

  Look up, Stella.

  I did.

  And I met the eyes of Reid Crowne, who was staring directly at me, a mere foot away. I felt the jolt hit me from head to Converse as he watched me watch him while the crowd moved in slow motion around us. My steps faltered and my lips twitched with the introduction of a smile that fell away as soon as I realized he was standing behind a woman. I didn’t recognize her, and his arms were hooked loosely over her shoulders. She was swaying in front of him as Liam Gallagher sang about a woman who may be able to save him. I closed my eyes, as I had a hundred times before, sure I was imagining things, and opened them to see he was still there.

  Reid was back in Austin.

  With his arms around another girl.

  My phone rattled in my pocket, and I ignored it as I stared him down. His gaze was hot on me as the blonde jumped up and down, a smile on her face, her hands tapping the protective arms around her.

  She smiles a lot, I’m sure. Probably doesn’t ask a lot of questions. Good for you, Reid.

  Something in his expression told me he never expected to see me there. It was a fair assumption considering the amount of people we were surrounded by.

  This is the part where you move on, Stella.

  But that didn’t seem right. Everything about it was all wrong. I wiped my face of all debris, including the damn tears I let him see fall, and started to push again, making my way through the heavy crowd. My heart flipped like a gasping fish while I walked through the sparse amount of people hitting the vendors before I ran straight into a hard chest.

  “Sorry,” I said, stumbling into the wall and gripping his arms to regain my footing before I took us both down.

  “No problem.” We both looked up, and I instantly recognized the gorgeous, deep blue eyes of Nate Butler.

  “Fancy meeting you here.” He chuckled as he studied me, his brows pressing together upon further inspection. I was a literal hot mess, and I was sure my lips were still trembling. “You look hot, and not in a good way,” he said as he pulled me to stand next to a vendor cart and ordered a fistful of waters before he fed them to me.

  “Drink slow,” he said as he watched me suck down two without pause. I wet my hands and patted my face with the freezing water. Narrowing his gaze, he reached for me, and with his thumbs, swept the mascara from underneath my eyes.

  “Why do I have a feeling this tar on your face isn’t running because of the heat?”

  “What?” I said, the worst actor alive. “I’m having a blast!”

  “Okay,” he said with a lingering glance that read of a call of bullshit before he glanced over to a friend I hadn’t even noticed was standing there.

  “Stella, this is Marcus.”

  Marcus was pretty, not Nate pretty, but close. Tall, with mocha skin, and rich caramel eyes. Nate turned his attention back to stare down at me proudly. “Stella writes for Speak.”

  “Sup,” he said, looking at me like the wet mutt I was.

  “Hey,” I said as I looked over to Nate with reassurance. “I’m good now.” Nate gripped my arm and spoke to Marcus. “Go meet up with the girls. I’ll catch up later.”

  “The hell? No, man, nuh-uh. You aren’t leaving me to that,” he protested.

  “No,” I whisper-yelled at Nate, “don’t do that.”

  Nate ignored me as I let my eyes roam over the plain T-shirt he wore that was stretched by his broad chest. It was the first time I’d seen him without a suit. His pronounced Adam’s apple bobbed as he spoke. He had on camouflage shorts and brown boots. He looked fucking hot. His thick, sun-licked, more-red-than- blond locks were pushed back with sunglasses he hadn’t needed in hours. He had that quarterback-turned-surfer vibe while at play, and the deliciously-decisive-shot-caller look at work. Both rocked me senseless. I would have appreciated it a lot more if I didn’t feel the suffocating need to glance back at the crowd behind him and look for the bastard whose lasting effect was ruining it for me.

  The whole situation was surreal. And I felt like I was going to faint.

  When Nate turned back to me, I kind of did.

  “Oh, shit, Stella!” he yelled as he jerked me into his arms right before I bit the dirt. “Hey, hey, you okay?”

  “Just hot,” I whispered as he picked me up—fully drained and fading in and out—and carried me past the mob, away from the noise. I relaxed into his chest and inhaled the smell of ocean I breathed from the skin of his neck before I was set down on a patch of grass and heard voices conspiring about my wellbeing. “She okay, man?” A voice called from what seemed like a mile away. “Need me to call a medic?”

  On the ground, Nate pressed something cool to my forehead and I opened my eyes. He smiled down at me.

  “Never had a woman faint on me before.” He winked. “I’m going to take it like I’m a handsome motherfucker.”

  “You have an oddly shaped head.” I managed a smile.

  “She’s fine,” he said as the blurred faces behind him disappeared. “Look at me.”

  “I see you,” I said as he pulled me to sit up.

  “Drink this.”

  I avoided looking behind him into the mass. What was in there hurt.

  “Stella, drink.”

  “Okay, bossy,” I said as I took another bottle of water from him.

  “Boss,” he corrected.

  After a few minutes, I began to feel more like myself.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just the dust and the heat. I’m not good with too much heat.”

  “Stella, I think you should sit out tomorrow,” Nate said, looking around us, assessing the concert.

  Sinking spirits led me to speak, though I was secretly hoping for an out. I couldn’t face Reid again, not like that.

  “I’m okay,”

  “It’s the conditions. Everyone is choking. It’s too hot. This isn’t a reflection on you,” he said as he sat down next to me, propped
a knee up, his muscled forearm hanging over it. “Let JJ cover it.”

  “Okay,” I agreed far too easily.

  Twenty minutes later, I felt like myself as Nate patiently waited next to me. “Thank you.”

  He turned to look at me. “You’re welcome.”

  “You can go back to your date.”

  “Nah,” he said with a Cheshire grin, “I don’t like her.”

  “That’s so wrong,” I said as I watched his eyes roll over my bared legs. I had on mid-thigh black shorts that looked non-existent when I sat.

  “I was set up, and I don’t fucking appreciate being set up,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “Oh, well, that’s a different story,” I agreed. “And why would you need to be set up? You’re a handsome motherfucker.”

  He pressed his lips together and shook his head.

  A few more minutes passed, and I had to use the facilities because of the gallon of water I drank. Nate stood waiting for me outside the port-o-potty, and when he saw me coming toward him, his expression changed. His eyes got soft, a subtle smile gracing his lips. “So, instead of wasting this night, let’s go watch some bands together?”

  “Okay.”

  “You good?” he asked, covering me with concerned eyes.

  “Yeah,” I said after a deep breath. By the grace of God, the breeze had started to blow in a different direction, drying the sweat and cooling me down. I sighed in relief and then remembered Reid was there, somewhere in the sea of fans with his arms around another woman.

  And I had sent him a six thousand dollar set of drums.

  I hope his dick falls off.

  Nate borrowed, well, stole two chairs from the middle of the dirt field and pulled them to the side, away from the horde. I stared at him. “From here?”

  “Yeah,” he said as he motioned for me to join him. I took the chair next to him and he gave me a grin. “Best seat in the house.”

  We sat side-by-side, talking for hours as some of the biggest bands in rock graced the stage.