The Last One

by Skylar Platt

  THE LAST ONE

  Porter Sisters Book 1

  By Skylar Platt

  THE LAST ONE

  Porter Sisters Book 1

  By Skylar Platt

  Copyright © 2019 by Skylar Platt

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters and events in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted without written permission from the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Design by Romance Book Cover Designs https://romancebookcoverdesigns.com

  For more about this author go to www.skylarplattauthor.com

  Look for Skylar Platt on Instagram

  https://www.instagram.com/skylarplattauthor/

  PROLOGUE

  OLIVIA

  A puddle of dark teal chiffon caught my eye on the floor across the room.

  Tuxedo pants and his black shirt clung to the edge of the chair where he’d barely been able to shed them fast enough.

  Any attempts to straighten my legs were thwarted by the long ones tangled around them. The heat of his naked body warmed me from tip to toe, the whisper of his soft breath caressing the back of my neck.

  My thumb rubbed the underside of my ring finger. I smiled and pulled my hand out from underneath the pillow to properly survey the new adornment to my left hand. The sparkle evident even in the dimly lit room, only illuminated by the filtered morning light seeping in through the carelessly drawn curtains.

  The large round solitaire did its own illuminating, shimmering and twinkling at me with even the slightest twitch of my hand.

  “Did I do OK,” he mumbled into my shoulder, running his hand down my arm, entwining his fingers with mine.

  “Better than OK,” I lifted my hand to the sky and rolled onto my back. “I had to look at it again to be certain it really happened.”

  “You haven’t changed your mind have you?” He asked softly. I had not, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit some apprehension, our age difference, the quick proposal.

  I turned to face him. He lowered his face to mine and smiled against my lips.

  “I’ll fly to Vegas today if you want,” he said as if reading all of my concerns in my eyes and wanting to do nothing more than vanquish them.

  CHAPTER ONE

  SIX MONTHS EARLIER

  OLIVIA

  I dropped my head to the steering wheel.

  I didn’t need to look at the text that caused my phone to chirp. It was an alert from my bank. My account had reached zero dollars. Some time ago I thought I was being smart setting my account to let me know when it dipped below $50, as if that was somehow going to keep money in my account when I had bills to pay, food to buy.

  This morning there had been multiple alerts. None unexpected. I glanced at the fuel gauge. I had enough gas in my car to get to Delaware, but not enough to get home. Payday was still four days away. The smart thing to do would be to call my sisters and tell them I couldn’t make it. But I’ve not very often been accused of being smart in situations like this. Besides this mid-week concert and girls’ “weekend” had been my idea.

  I’d had money in the bank when I bought the ticket and begged my sister, Natalie, and best friend, Meredith, whom we also refer to as our sister, to meet me in Delaware for a post-Memorial Day Tuesday concert.

  The Low Road, my favorite band, a brother, brother, sister country trio had chosen to break up their tour as the second opener for current superstar Cole Matthews by playing a tiny bar in Dewey, Delaware. When I say tiny, I mean standing room only, a few hundred people max. This band was just a few more hits from never playing a bar again. The fact they had done just one headlining tour and were still relegated to opening for others remained a mystery to most.

  I brushed back the cloud about my current finances. It was not the first, nor most-likely the last, time my account would be at zero or lower. I’d borrow money from Meredith to get home and cover my portion of the hotel room. I tamped down the thoughts of self-loathing. I’m 45-years old, single, daughter in college. I have a job that does not qualify as a career, but it is steady work, yet I constantly struggle to make ends meet. One solid month is most always followed by a month of holding my breath until payday or calling Meredith to get $50 to bridge the gap.

  I deserve some fun, I told myself and put the car in reverse and pulled out of the driveway. As the distance I put between my house and reality grew, I allowed the weight to lift a bit. I found myself smiling as I belted out songs and let the smooth baritone voice of the lead male singer, Teddy Abbott, melt my heart, and heat various other portions of my body up. That man could sing me the alphabet and it would turn me on.

  I was still an hour or so away according to my GPS when the texts from Meredith began. I said a silent prayer of thanks that she had arrived first and checked into the hotel, thus saving me from the embarrassment of having my credit card declined when trying to check in. I responded to her text with a call.

  “Have you driven by the bar? Are people lined up already?” I asked.

  “I have, and, no, there isn’t anyone there yet,” she said. “It is a Tuesday after a holiday weekend, so…”

  “True,” I said. “Have you heard from Natalie?”

  “She texted me when she left that she was running late, surprise, surprise, but nothing since.”

  “Of course she is,” I laughed. My darling younger sister had been late for everything her entire life, including her birth. But it never seemed to cause her any problems. The second she walked into a room everyone wanted to be near her, to know her and they were always quick to forgive her tardiness if she would just grace them with a smile, a laugh, a kind word. She was taller than me, bustier than me, had a toothier smile than me. Standing side-by-side you’d never guess in a million years we had shared DNA. People more often took Meredith and I to be the kin and Natalie to be the friend.

  What we did share was our extreme ineptness at making the right choices when it comes to men.

  -----------

  We arrived just two hours before the doors opened and found ourselves with a couple dozen or so people in front of us and I was getting stupid excited about the prospect of being just a few feet from Teddy and dancing around like crazy with Meredith and Natalie. It had been years since we had done something like this together. All it had taken was Meredith’s smile and embrace and the angst I’d been filled with just hours ago evaporated.

  Somehow we had been graced with a beautiful evening with temps in the 80s, a light breeze, tolerable humidity. A far cry from the high-90s, 100-plus heat index weather the holiday weekend had seen. I’d opted to wear jeans and a dark-blue sleeveless top to show off the shoulders I worked very hard to maintain and the blue eyes which remained one of my best features.

  “Anyone have a ticket to sell?”

  Meredith and I were busy catching up on the few life events we hadn’t shared even though we spoke multiple times per week, so I hadn’t paid attention to the request until Natalie tugged at my arm.

  “We do,” she said drawing the man over to us, to her.

  If you google tall, dark and handsome, this is likely what you would get. All legs, tanned arms with just the hint of a tattoo peeking out from one sleeve. A mass of dark waves and the perfect amount of salt and pepper stubble. Meredith and I stood there gawking, until Natalie rousted me from my trance and demanded the extra ticket I had in fact purchased for my daughter, Grace, who got a better offer from friends her own age.

  Meredith and I shared a glance as I handed her the ticket and felt a pang of jealousy as this man practically drooled over my
sister.

  “God she is just a magnet for guys like him, isn’t she?” Meredith joked.

  We all watched his perfect ass return to his spot in line and a throng of way-too-young for him girls. “Jerk,” we muttered and turned our attention back to more important things like how far we each had gotten in the latest season of The Crown.

  CHAPTER TWO

  OLIVIA

  “I’m going to request a song,” I said to Meredith as there was a brief break in the set. They’d been playing for a while and I was certain time was running out.

  The piece of paper with the words please play The Last One was tucked securely in my tiny shoulder purse. I had been contemplating this off and on ever since I bought the tickets. Unsure of what the layout and atmosphere would be like, but I’ve let far too many opportunities such as this slip by out of fear and insecurity. My age, and being 15-years removed from the relationship I had to flee in the dead of night with my little girl, had me finally learning to live again and seizing these little fun moments that don’t happen every day.

  I grinned and shrugged my shoulders at Meredith’s horrified look. Natalie was engaged in conversation with the hunky ticket-buyer. Natalie would do something like this without flinching and no one would bat an eye, but for me, this was a very big deal.

  The song I was requesting had not made any of their albums, but I had come across it perusing YouTube videos and came across them playing it in a setting very much like this one. An interview with Jennifer Abbott mentioned it as one they had considered for the upcoming album. That was two years ago, the song had not made the cut.

  My heart was pounding, but I kept telling myself, this is what life is about. Just a few people separated me from the stage, but it took some maneuvering to get to the side and Teddy’s attention. Of course, an unruly fan who thought I was trying to steal his spot stopped me, but Teddy had seen me. He walked to me, knelt down and motioned me to him as I waved a piece of paper at him.

  “Is that your phone number?” he laughed as I got close enough to hear him.

  “No, but you can have that too if you want,” I smiled leaning in close as he bent down and took the paper. I waited while he read it. He smiled and nodded yes.

  “Thank you,” I mouthed and started to turn.

  “Wait!” he held his hands out in a question. “The number?”

  I let out a huge laugh. No way he was serious! “Hand me your phone,” he said.

  My heart still pounding, I pulled it out of my bag and handed it to him, my hand actually shaking a bit. He punched his number in and dialed. Then he opened the camera, squatted down, put his arm around me and took a selfie, his sweaty cheek pressed up against mine. Oh My God.

  Meanwhile, John was chatting up the crowd and making fun of Teddy.

  “She had a request and I'm not ever going to turn down a redhead!” He said into the mic. He slid the piece of paper deep into his jeans pocket and swapped out guitars.

  Oh My God again. My life is now complete.

  He turned around and spoke to the drummer and then to John and Jennifer. They each nodded.

  When they finished their set, as we all stood cheering doing the requisite begging for more...he texted me...

  It's Teddy, not sure if you'll check this before you leave, come over to John's side of the stage when we finish and I'll get you backstage.

  Unless you are with someone who will be pissed.

  I had pulled my phone out to look at the picture as I had actually resisted doing that for the remainder of the show. And the skeptic in me was sure he had dialed someone else when he took my phone.

  I responded with a thumbs up emoji and with my sisters.

  He sent a smiley face. What is your name? I think you already know mine!

  LOL, Olivia. although Hey You would work for you!

  LOL!

  Meredith looked at me.

  “He's texting me,” I said.

  “Who?”

  “Teddy.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  TEDDY

  She’d caught my eye when we first hit the stage.

  Strawberry blond hair, amazingly muscular shoulders, tight jeans glued to slim legs. She was singing and dancing happily with some friends. Many of the other women in the bar, at least the ones positioned near the stage, were much more scantily clad, threatening at any moment to burst right out of their tiny tank tops. Some seemed to be making an effort to have just that happen in front of me. Attention is what they craved. My attention.

  But it was her attention that I wanted, so when I saw her maneuvering toward the stage, my heart leapt and I did whatever I could to get her there. Her eyes sparkled when she handed me the song request, her hand trembling slightly. Her jaw dropped when I asked for her number. Despite a couple of hours of dancing around in the early summer air, she smelled like spring flowers when I leaned in for the selfie.

  There wasn’t really much of a backstage area at this tiny venue, but everyone made the most of it and as always one big loud party filled the small area. Several of the women in the tiny tank tops had found their way back here and pranced about in various stages of intoxication.

  I entwined my long fingers with her tiny ones and held tight as I pulled her through the crowd, her sisters in tow, toward John and Jennifer to make introductions and find a way to get to know this woman better.

  John passed me a light beer and I placed it in her free hand. She took a sip, but couldn’t hide the wrinkle of distaste that graced her nose.

  "I'm a beer snob, haven't had one these in a very long time," she laughed realizing she was busted.

  I returned the laugh and led her just outside to the tour bus. We left her sisters chatting easily with John and Jennifer. The bus was not empty, but it was quiet and calm and she released a long slow exhale as if she’d been holding her breath since I’d taken hold of her hand.

  I introduced her to the folks on the bus, then pulled a pair of glasses down from a cabinet...out came the whiskey.

  I lifted my glass in a toast and watched the smooth caramel-colored liquid disappear down her throat. I smiled and swallowed hard wanting desperately to slide my tongue along that dip in her throat.

  “Now you're talking,” she said.

  I motioned for her to sit on the unoccupied couch, and started to pepper her with questions anxious to know everything about her.

  “You drove four hours just to see us play?” I asked, still amazed at what fans will do to see us play live. “Aren't we playing Virginia Beach this year?” he directed the question to one of band managers, Angela.

  “Yep,” Angela said without looking up from her phone.

  “September,” Olivia added. "I have tickets to that too, but you guys are the opener and I wanted to see you guys when you didn't have to get off stage for someone else, so I made the drive. Actually, I did it just to request The Last One.”

  “Well, were we worth the drive?”

  “Yeah, it was pretty good.” She winked and giggled. Her smile floating up to her eyes, the tiny wrinkle of her nose, stirring all sorts of emotions inside me.

  The conversation came so easily. We laughed and talked about nothing and everything. How had we just met?

  “Can I get in touch when we come to Virginia Beach?” I asked, although the idea of waiting months to see that smile, hear that giggle, there was no way I could wait that long.

  “You can get in touch any time you want, are you kidding?”

  We stepped off the bus and into the slightly sticky night air. I reached for her hair, slipping my fingers under it, resting it gently on the base of her neck guiding her down the steps of the bus. The crowd had thinned but the one that remained was as boisterous as ever.

  I easily had a foot on her and had to bend way down to find her ear. "It was wonderful meeting you,” I said. I let my lips fall lightly onto her warm neck. The shiver it ignited within her reverberating back to me.

  She bit her lip, returning momentarily to the shy wom
an with the trembling hand who handed me that crumpled piece of paper just hours ago.

  "Likewise," she said, her eyes darkening and a sly grin crossing her lips as I felt her tiny fingers slip under my t-shirt and along my low back before she pulled it away. I inhaled deeply and returned the smile, resisting the urge to pull her back to me and plunge my tongue down her throat. I shifted my weight slightly trying to discretely adjust the hard-on growing in my jeans.

  She turned to smile one more time before rejoining her sisters and walking away. John followed my gaze and then returned to me. “I’m going to marry that woman.” I told him.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  OLIVIA

  “God, my ego needed that,” I said as we reached the hotel parking lot.

  “Do we get details on what that was?” Meredith quipped as we walked down the street toward the hotel. She linked her arm with mine and we pranced down the sidewalk like a couple of college girls.

  I laughed and shook my head. “Oh, good grief, there were people on the bus with us, it was just a quiet place to talk and there was whiskey there instead of light beer.”

  I showed her the picture and told her I’d probably be able score some backstage passes in September. I didn’t dare dream of anything more, well I did, I just knew better than to expect anything to come of it. I’d always had an active imagination and vivid fantasy life. I had to. My reality was a horror show at times.

  Despite myself I jumped every time my phone chirped over the next few days, but it was never Teddy. I mean seriously what did I expect. He was flirting, being sweet...I had my moment, felt his lips on my neck...like I told Meredith, it was exactly what my ego needed. I had the photo of us together...he had no idea how much older I was...and hopefully I would get to see him in September, say hello, share a drink.

  Sitting at my desk organizing some files late Friday afternoon, my phone started to vibrate. I had just about gotten myself to ignore anything other than a call from my daughter, Grace, until 5 o’clock.