DARE You, Dare Duet, Part One: Billie and Sawyer: Unchained Attraction Series

by Shandwick, K. L.

  I may have been older, but I was far less stupid than he gave me credit for, and it was as plain as day he hoped for a shocked reaction from me. Either that or his move was designed to scare me off with his crude sideshow.

  Although I was desperate to look away, I couldn't ignore what I saw. I wandered over to the seat the girl had left on the couch. Dropping to the cushion, it bounced as I settled down beside him.

  "Cherri was met by her uncle," I disclosed. "You remember Cherri, the little girl who looked scarily similar to this one, I helped off your tour bus yesterday? I gave her the plane fare to get back home to Iowa. No need to thank me," I said in a voice thick with sarcasm. "Although, honey," I placed my hand on his latest victim's forearm, "don't get on that tour bus. This guy may give away what's in those filthy jeans readily enough, but his aftercare sucks."

  "Aftercare?" Wiggy barked. "What the fuck is that?" he snapped.

  "Exactly!" I chuckled. "See what I mean?" I goaded, feeling vindicated. Focusing on the girl, my angry eyes softened when I took in how young she looked again. "Believe me. You don't want to do this. You can do better," I advised, staring at Wiggy's face turning redder in fury by the second. "Much better. Don't cheapen yourself with a guy like him. He's not worth it."

  "Says the cradle-robber" he shot back with a sly smirk. This time I scoffed at his asinine response. Had it come from anyone else, his words would have probably slain me. Although his previous comment to Sawyer had gutted me, I could not have cared less about his opinion.

  Sawyer had gone straight into conversation with Hammer as soon as we arrived and had missed most of our heated exchange, but from the black stormy look, he flashed Wiggy it was clear he hadn't missed the last comment his bandmate had thrown my way.

  "What the fuck did you say?" he ground out, as he spun hard on his heel. He was toe-to-toe at Wiggy's feet in three long strides.

  "She started it," he said in response. His reply sounded like an immature child being chastised and I chuckled, earning me a death glare.

  "Get the fuck up," Sawyer demanded, his narrowed eyes dark with anger. Bending forward close to the girl's ear he barked, "Move." I watched in silence as her upper body straightened and slumped before she sprang into action and clambered over the arm of the couch in the opposite direction of me.

  "He's right, I did," I chuckled, flashing Wiggy a contemptuous look. "Forget about it," I prompted and stood, sliding my arms around Sawyer's waist. When I held his body close to mine, I felt the instant tension in his stance ebb.

  "There, Wiggy, you see? This is one of the reasons I love this woman. She doesn't behave like a child. Then again, you wouldn't know what a real woman was. That's what all these potential jailbait girls are about. It isn't that you find them fulfilling, it's a case of that's all you can handle."

  Wiggy, shook his head, and muttered under his breath, "Motherfucker," before his eyes shot up and his jaw fell wide. "No, man that was a figure of speech I was only cursing …"

  "At me! You were cussing at me," he shouted, so loud Strings and Hammer stopped talking. Hammer moved closer to Sawyer as I guessed he had figured he may have had to pull them apart at any moment. "I'm gonna ignore you, because frankly, you're not worth me getting my knuckles dirty. Besides we've got bigger fish to fry in twenty minutes. So get your fucking head in the game." Meaning they should focus on their jobs because they were due on stage.

  Once Sawyer reminded him of this, Wiggy's shift in attitude was nothing short of miraculous, and I immediately felt dreadful for starting an argument at all. There was a whole auditorium full of people waiting to be entertained by them.

  Sawyer immediately turned back to what he'd been saying to Hammer, finished his conversation, and began his preparations for going on stage.

  Being a midrange popular band, the gigs DisKord played were anything from a few hundred to a few thousand. The District music venue in Sioux Falls had a fifteen hundred capacity, but it was still impressive to me. I'd been to many concerts in the past where I'd been seated or found my place in the crowd and the performer had been just a dot in the distance.

  From a spectator's perspective, the venue felt perfect. I wouldn't have cared if it had been only twenty people DisKord played for because I was too busy being in awe of Sawyer's confidence to get out there and do what he loved.

  As if a miracle had taken place, the moment the band members of DisKord stepped out on stage, they looked nothing like the shabby disorganized crew I'd witnessed less than twenty minutes before. Behaving like the best of friends, they smiled and joked as if they'd never had a harsh word between them.

  Watching them from the floor at the front of the stage, I couldn't help but be impressed by their professionalism. It was a far cry from their differences behind the scenes, and they were genuinely having the time of their lives.

  Watching how fervently the crowd reacted to their concert gave me goosebumps. Offstage, they appeared a ridiculous combination—a real motley crew. I witnessed their musical talents combine to be one unit, and their polished performance stole my breath away.

  Glancing to the audience I saw the usual type of seasoned individuals who stood out as fans, those who sang every word and pointing at Sawyer as if he was singing the song only for them, and they were singing "with" him to everyone else.

  I smiled at the air guitarists among them who screwed up their faces and felt every note they hit when they warbled their imaginary strings against their imaginary frets, while they "accompanied" Sawyer during one highly emotive-sounding solo guitar instrumental.

  For most of the gig, I was able to concentrate on the band and ignore the females crowding the front of the stage. who constantly let out high-pitched screams whenever Sawyer pulled what they had interpreted was a sexy move. All he had to do to earn their hysteria was wipe the sweat from his face with his forearm, the same from his chest with a small hand towel, or stretch his arms above his head and lift his guitar clear of his groin.

  My confidence sank and my stomach bottomed out when I saw all the young, fresh faces of the pretty girls, with the tight perfect bodies, who adored him. It was clear many of them, like Cherri, would drop their panties in a heartbeat if it had meant spending time with him.

  Sawyer did not need gimmicks; he had sex appeal by the truckload. He only had to smile and run a hand through his hair to send their pulses racing and fan a fresh burst of screaming in a wave around the place.

  As if he heard my thoughts, Sawyer sought me out in the crowd and when his eyes locked with mine, he winked. Most girls in front of me screamed and an argument broke out with the girls in front about whether his gesture was for one of them.

  One girl turned to look at me like she knew it had been for someone else. She checked me out, and I saw the moment she dismissed me as the likely reciprocate for his singled out attention.

  At the start of their set, I had felt self-conscious knowing I'd be one of the older people in the audience. I wasn't ancient, but most of DisKord's fans were in their mid-teens the to late twenties, and I felt a little odd standing out there on my own.

  If I had thought that was bad, it wasn't nearly as embarrassing as standing in the line of their fans after the show who'd hoped to meet their idols. It hadn't occurred to me I'd have to negotiate my way back to the band. I had arrived with Sawyer, but I had nothing to prove who I was or any idea about what to do next.

  Hordes of fans lined up at the double doors leading back to the room we'd vacated when the band had gone out on stage, and once I'd realized it would be no easy task to go back there, I stood awkward and embarrassed as I worried how I was supposed to get back to Sawyer again.

  Standing aside from the crowd, I watched as they jostled each other in the hopes of getting an autograph or a handshake or maybe just another glimpse of the band.

  Observing some of the girls' interactions with the security guys left me in no doubt they'd used whatever means necessary to their effort to get what they wanted.

  W
ith each minute that passed, I became less confident and increasingly unsure about what my next move should be. There was no way I could find the nerve to saunter up to the front and claim to be with Sawyer.

  "Sorry, we've just been told there's no meet and greet tonight, dudes. The band has to move on to the next city and it's a long ride," the burly looking bald security detail hollered to the lengthening line that continued to form patiently at the back, and not nearly as patiently at the front.

  Groans of dissatisfaction rippled through the crowd as the line gradually began to disperse and people headed toward the illuminated exit signs.

  Unsure what to do next, I stood my ground and eventually saw the security guards glance over toward me. They put their heads together and, from the looks of things, they were quite openly discussing what to do with me. Meanwhile, I adjusted my clothing and continually swallowed.

  "You need to head out, lady," one of them called out and tipped his chin toward the nearest exit behind me. Slowly I pulled myself straight and walked purposefully toward them.

  "I'm with Sawyer," I stated, jutting my chin out and trying to sound authoritative.

  Regarding me with suspicion, the two bouncers stared pointedly at one another and looked back at me.

  "Sawyer?" he asked like he had no idea who I was talking about, but they didn't fool me because I knew they knew exactly who he was.

  "Yes, my … boyfriend." One of the guards scoffed while the other looked on in surprise. I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment.

  "And Sawyer knows you're his …"

  "There you are, Billie. Sorry, baby, I was stuck in the middle of an argument between Hammer and Wiggy." Relief flowed like a tidal wave through me as I heard Sawyer's welcoming voice and looked back at the guards. They both looked sheepishly at one another and unfortunately, I didn't have to be a mind reader to guess at what they thought— I was too old to be Sawyer's woman.

  "You were incredible up there," I told him with a huge grin on my face, totally ignoring both the guards.

  Striding toward me with a huge beaming smile, he stopped and bowed, winked, and nodded his head before grabbing me by the hand. "I know, right? We're the bomb," he replied, not an ounce of modesty in his tone, yet I still knew he was joking. "We're not staying on the tour bus tonight," he told me, his bright eyes shining from the high of being on stage. "I know you hate it and I won't take you back there again. Let's go. There's a car waiting to take us straight to a hotel right next to the airport."

  Chapter Twenty

  With only one more night left of the tour, it had felt wrong leaving Sawyer behind at the departures desk. Had it not been for Wiggy, I might have been prepared to get to know the other two, but when Sawyer said he didn't mind me leaving, I felt relieved to be going home.

  An hour on their tour bus was enough to make the whole situation feel sordid, with the huge oversized bed, the smutty innuendoes, and Wiggy's total disregard for Cherri's welfare. Sawyer hadn't considered any of this when he invited me to go with them.

  Before clashing with his band, I would have regarded myself as easygoing yet reserved, but I had nothing in common with the guys in the band and didn't fit in with anyone but Sawyer. Going home had been a tough call to make because the time Sawyer and I had spent alone had been incredible.

  * * *

  The flight back to New York at Thanksgiving didn't feel as drawn out as the one on the way to Minnesota; perhaps because I had little to look forward to at home and heading to see Sawyer, I had felt like it couldn't arrive fast enough.

  It was almost 6:00 p.m. by the time I arrived home and not wanting to dwell on the fact Sawyer would be preparing for his last gig, I immediately began to unpack.

  I felt a failure for not being more supportive toward Sawyer, but it was only one more day and then I'd have him back.

  With nothing to do and no one home, I decided to finish the romantic suspense book I'd started on my Kindle on the way back on the plane. I was about to fill the tub and lie back to do this when Tricia sent me a text to find out how my trip with Sawyer was going.

  Tricia- Wellllll?

  Me – I'm home.

  In seconds my cell rang. I smiled at how nosey she was and answered. "Whose ass do I have to kick?" she asked in a hurried angry tone.

  "Nobody's. It just wasn't for me … the whole touring thing, I mean."

  "You and Sawyer good?"

  "We're good." She let out a sigh of relief and I chuckled.

  "Thank goodness for that. Wait a sec and I'll be over…that is okay, isn't it? I mean I'm bored and my parents fell asleep on the chair after two glasses of wine, the lightweights …"

  "Of course, it is. Get over here," I ordered playfully with a smile.

  Instead of filling the bathtub, I pulled a frozen pizza from the freezer and stuck it in the oven, grabbed a bottle of Pinot Grigio from the fridge, and organized two place settings on the small coffee table by the fireplace. The delicious aroma of Italian herbs wafted through the air and the pizza was nearly ready by the time I opened the door to welcome Tricia in.

  "You're a mind reader. I'm starving. There was so much food earlier, but I'd only gotten out of bed with a hangover an hour before my mom served it all up," she informed me, bustling through my front door as she shook her heavy black wool coat off of her shoulders.

  "I figured I'd feed you, get you drunk, and prevent you from grilling me about Minnesota and North Dakota."

  Passing me a generous glass of wine, she swiped one for herself and curled up on my large comfy couch. I followed suit, placing the pizza freshly cut from the oven, and curled my knees to my chest on the sofa beside her.

  Tricia adjusted herself at the opposite end of the couch and when my eyes met her curious ones, she grinned. "Spill."

  Twenty minutes and many questions later, she'd been brought up to speed and by the time I was done, the pizza was cold.

  "I can understand why you came home! I think even I would have struggled with a fucker like that too. He's a ratbag for trying to make you feel like you shouldn't have been there. Although, you know what I think? There's a bigger picture going on with this. Everything you're describing comes down to your former life with Logan."

  "No, these guys were infants in comparison to Sawyer."

  "Yeah, but you felt old because of that stuffy old fart you were with. Yes, Sawyer's younger, but history isn't about to repeat itself. From all that you've told me, my guess is Sawyer treats you better than your ex-husband ever did."

  Blushing, I smiled, because the way Sawyer made me feel had consumed me at times. "It's different, and intense. It's not like the gradual love that developed between Logan and me. If I'm being honest, how I feel scares me to death."

  "Scares you? What does? The pace, or committing to another relationship? Sawyer's age? Or that you think he'll leave you down the line?"

  "Yeah, all of that," I confessed, pointing at her with a tired sigh. "It isn't only his age, although, I've kind of made this my focus. I guess the real reason is that I feel unworthy of any man right now. I don't know, perhaps some of my thinking is because of how badly hurt I still am. I still feel bruised by how easily Logan betrayed me, but I don't want him back like I'd wanted sometimes in the beginning. She's welcome to him."

  "Does Sawyer make you happier than you were with Logan before Logan fucked up?"

  "Yes," I blurted immediately and shocked myself at my lack of hesitancy. Tricia's question was a loaded one and it should have taken a lengthy debate in my head at least before I could answer.

  "I get it, Billie. This is more about trusting any man a lot more than your hang-up about Sawyer's age. I look at you and I know you'd pass for thirty any day of the week. I don't see a difference when I see you together. I've seen how young guys look at you when we're out, and I'm not saying this because you're my friend. It's easy to find ways why something shouldn't happen when we feel undeserving."

  Everything she said made sense. "True."

 
"But you trust me, don't you?"

  "I do, but you know me. Being with Sawyer …" I sighed, heavily. "I don't know what to feel. I've heard women say this before about men, but this man … I'd have a lot to live up to. I mean Sawyer is all that."

  "All what? You need to take a long hard look in the mirror, Billie Collier. You are gorgeous. Sawyer thinks so too, or he'd never have gotten on a plane and woken you up in the middle of the night to apologize for letting you down." She was right and I smiled. I hadn't realized how tight my chest had gotten from talking about this until I felt it ease.

  "That was romantic, wasn't it? And I know what he thinks. He tells me over and over, and when I'm with him I feel like I'm the only woman in the world. But …" I sighed. "His life looks so uncomplicated compared to mine. I mean, he's so virile and vibrant, stunningly handsome, talented—shiny," I giggled, "And so full of … everything I don't feel for myself."

  "Then you need to work on your confidence," Tricia snapped. I stared at her hardened gaze and exhaled in a rush.

  "I've never been a Type A personality who's pushy, extroverted and full of ideas, but I've always regarded myself as quietly strong."

  "Yes, you're reserved. But having strong reservations about getting involved in another relationship doesn't make you weak, it makes you wary. Naturally, you should be cautious—careful, deliberate—about who you let get past that newly formed barrier you've got in place."

  "You're right on all of those points, but this doesn't feel deliberate, it's like I haven't had time to find the right reason why this wouldn't work."

  "Right reason? Have you considered there isn't one? What can't work? I get what you and Sawyer have has moved on much faster than anything you've been used to, but he sounds as if he's got your back. Accepting you leaving tells me he's trying to tread carefully because you're nervous, and it may have been because he has commitments of his own. Besides, he already knows you need time to absorb how you feel."