A Stolen Melody Duet: A Summer Romance Boxset

by K. K. Allen

  I’ve just reached a jog on the treadmill when the gym door opens and Melanie walks in. It’s the first time I’ve seen her since we were introduced at the San Diego show. “Hey, Lyric,” she says with a smile. “Another gym whore like me, I see.”

  I laugh and shrug. “It’s a necessity. I didn’t start working out until I started touring after college. When I was a kid, I traveled with my dad everywhere, but the bus was like a jungle gym then. Not anymore.”

  Her eyebrows raise. “That’s right, Mitch Cassidy’s daughter. Would it be weird if I told you I’ve had a crush on your dad since I was eight? Posters on the ceiling and everything.”

  Groaning, I try to laugh through the unease after hearing that. “You totally could have left that fact out of this conversation. Pretty sure he’s got at least twenty years on you.”

  Her eyes twinkle with mischief, and already, I have a sense of who Melanie is, beyond just our merchandise manager. From the little we’ve spoken and everything I’ve heard from Doug, I can tell she’s a nice, honest, unashamed rebel who gets shit done. I like her already.

  “Age doesn’t matter, honey,” she says. “Sooner you figure that out, the more plentiful your options will be.”

  My smile is huge. Melanie and I are going to get along just fine. “Are you here to work out or give me dating advice?”

  She shrugs as she takes the machine next to me. After setting the machine to a warmup pace, she tosses me a grin. “I hear you don’t need any dating advice.”

  “What does that mean?” I ask, my voice dropping with regret. One dinner with Wolf and everyone knows? They’ll most likely assume we’re hooking up, and my reputation on this tour is shredded before I even have a chance to prove myself. Because I know I need to prove myself. Being a chick road manager, I have to show the critics that I’m the shit at what I do. There’s a reason I’m in my position, and it has nothing to do with my parents.

  “It means,” she draws out, “you seem to be a magnet for the hot lead singer types. First Tony, now Wolf.”

  I start to argue, but she cuts me off with stern eyes and a shake of her head. “I’m not blind, Lyric. I see the way Wolf devours you with his eyes. Did you know he told Hedge to stay away from you? I’ve never known that one to be territorial, but if I were you, I would totally jump on that meat stick.”

  Geez. She doesn’t beat around the bush, does she? As I increase my speed I contemplate how I’m going to end this conversation. Melanie has no idea that this topic is dead. There is no Wolf and me. “Thanks for looking out, Mel. It’s okay that I call you that, right?”

  “Everyone calls me Mel. It’s perfectly fine. Hey, Lorraine, Misty, and I are making an appointment to get our hair and makeup done when we get to North Carolina. You should come with.”

  And just like that, the conversation moves back to the safe zone. “Count me in. I’ll need some pampering when this three-day haul is over with.”

  “You’re telling me,” she laughs. “At least you get to look at shirtless rock stars all day. I get sweaty roadies who refuse to shower until we stop at the hotel. Even then, their hygiene is questionable.”

  Laughter bubbles up my throat. “There should be a rule about that.”

  Her eyes go wide. “There is! But what’s going to happen to them? You’re the road manager now, what are you going to do about it? I dare you to tell Jeff his pits stinks and he needs to keep his shirt on when he leaves his bunk. No one needs to see that much pale skin in one eyeful. He’s like the sasquatch version of Casper, minus the hot blue eyes and infectious laugh.”

  “You have a thing for Casper now? Mel, I think you’re the one that needs dating advice.”

  When she glares at me I stick my tongue out. That’s when the door to the gym opens again. Derrick, Hedge, and Stryder walk in, and my chest tightens, knowing Wolf will follow. He does, looking hotter than ever in a sleeveless white tank, dark gray basketball shorts, and bedhead. My heart beats a little harder when his eyes catch mine.

  “Ladies! Mind if we join you for a little workout?” Hedge jumps behind Melanie on her treadmill, keeping in time with her steps and tugging on her hair.

  “Jesus, Hedge! You fall, she goes down with you. You know that, right?” Derrick scolds him, only bringing a wide smile to Hedge’s face.

  Hedge sighs heavily and hops off the machine. He walks to the bench press, making sure to punch Derrick in the arm as he passes. “Fuck off, Dad.”

  I bite my bottom lip as Melanie rolls her eyes and increases her speed to a full-out run. Someone’s showing off. Not me. I’m taking my workout on the road. The blue Texas skies are calling to me anyway.

  I stop my machine, wipe it down, and wave at Melanie before gripping the door handle.

  Wolf cuts me off, sliding between me and my exit, and my chest begins to tighten. “If we’re bothering you, we can go. You don’t need to leave.”

  “Aww,” Melanie calls from across the room. “Wolf and Lyric are twinsies. How cute.”

  I look at Wolf again and realize we’re both wearing white tops and gray bottoms. Awesome. My face heats and my eyes find Hedge, who is full-on glaring at Wolf. Derrick is doing a fine job of ignoring us all, and I like him even more for it.

  “Uh, no.” I turn back to Wolf to answer with a smile. “I was just warming up for my run. Gym’s all yours.”

  He nods and opens the door for me, letting me through. “I was thinking about a run, myself. I’ll join you.”

  Is this guy for real? First he steals my lyrics, then he takes me to a friendly dinner, now he wants to run with me? Isn’t he my boss? Well, technically, he’s my client who pays me to boss him around. I should appease him, but at what point are we crossing the line? Running with him would be harmless if I didn’t find his bedhead sexy as hell.

  “Do I have a choice?” I ask with a grin, because let’s face it. Wolf will do what he wants.

  He shrugs. “Not really. To be honest, I’m not a fan of letting cute girls roam strange city streets alone. You’re either running with me and Rex, or you’re taking Rex with you.”

  Aww, he’s playing the protector card. I like it. And if he hadn’t mentioned Rex I wouldn’t have even noticed him walking a good ten feet behind us. “He is stealth,” I say, impressed.

  Wolf chuckles, throwing Rex a nod. “That’s what I pay him for.”

  “I thought you pay him to protect you.”

  Wolf shrugs. “If anyone were to try to mess with me, they’d be sorry. Rex is the result of a few stalkerish incidents at the start of my career. The label demanded I hire someone, so I did. He’s become more of a prevention tactic than anything. The ladies love him, but he won’t fuck around with them. And he distracts them so they stay away from me.”

  My eyes go wide just as we exit onto the street of the hotel. I immediately throw myself into a jog, and Wolf picks up the pace so he’s right beside me. “You’re kidding. Wolf needs a deterrent from the ladies? Isn’t that your thing? I mean, I’m pretty sure I saw you in action when I walked in on you and Jenn.”

  He laughs, and I can feel his eyes on me. “I didn’t want to sleep with Jenn.”

  “That’s not what it looked like to me.”

  He lets out a breath that resembles frustration. “I’m not as bad a guy as you want me to be, Lyric. Who I sleep with and how often shouldn’t define me. Just like your relationships shouldn’t define you.”

  Discomfort settles deep in my stomach. I’m not sure why I care so much about any of this. I shouldn’t. “You’re right. We should talk about something else. Something that will help me get to know you better.”

  Silence falls on us and I can feel his eyes on me as we pace each other. “Okay. Ask me anything.”

  “Okay. What was the first song you remember that inspired you?”

  “Easy. ‘Sex On Fire’ by Kings of Leon.”

  My head snaps toward him in surprise and I almost miss a step, but Wolf grips my waist to steady me.

  “You’re kid
ding me,” I say, ignoring the buzz that shoots through me the moment his hand touches my bare skin.

  He laughs. “I’m not kidding. I was a horny kid, and the song had the word sex in it. I could picture myself singing that same shit on stage.”

  “Okay, so ‘Sex On Fire’ inspired you to be a sex god on stage. What about, inspired your life?”

  His face scrunches together as he thinks. “3 Doors Down. Same year. ‘It’s Not My Time.’”

  My smile widens and I nod in approval. “Much better.”

  When Wolf starts belting the lyrics of the song, I’m laughing so hard I have to slow my pace.

  “What about you? Same question, but your 'dad’s music doesn’t count.”

  I don’t have to think long about that one. “‘A Moment Like This,’ Kelly Clarkson.”

  Now it’s Wolf that almost trips, so I slow my steps and laugh as he catches himself. “I thought we were being serious.”

  I shrug. “I am dead serious. First song to inspire. I wanted to be Kelly Clarkson, once upon a time. Those raspy R&B vocals that can take you low or high. She’s incredible.”

  “But ‘A Moment Like This?’” he asks incredulously. “It’s the most overproduced, overplayed radio song on Earth.”

  I laugh, knowing he’s right, but I don’t care. “We’re being honest. That’s my song. Believe me or not. I won’t take it back.”

  “Faster?” I ask him, ready to tear down the street.

  He winks. “Ladies first.”

  Our slow jog turns into a run, and not ten minutes later we’re racing, huge smiles on our faces as we fight laughter and sprint to the end of the next street. I’m not sure who wins.

  We’re both heaving, palms on our knees and trying to catch our breath. I don’t think either of us paid attention to where we were running to, but when we see a corner café beside us, we look at each other in silent agreement. “Coffee,” we say in unison.

  Wolf lets me walk through the door first, his hand automatically moving to the sweaty small of my back. I cringe, knowing I must look and feel disgusting, but his hand stays on me until we reach the counter to order.

  “Okay, Kelly Clarkson,” he teases when we sit on the padded bench in the corner window, coffee in hand. “I think you just outed yourself without meaning to.”

  My chest tightens at his words. “Excuse me?”

  His lip curls at the corner just like I hate—and love. “If you loved Kelly Clarkson, that means you were an American Idol fan, and everyone knows The Voice is better.”

  My jaw drops for two very different reasons. One, his assessment went the total opposite of where I thought it would go, and two… “Excuse me. American Idol was the original singing contest that allowed America to weigh in on the winner. I choose originality.”

  His eyes roll dramatically. “C’mon. The talent on The Voice is better.”

  I shake my head. “Not necessarily. Their talent is hand-picked from singers already in the industry in some way. Magic lost.”

  “Oh really? And you think Simon really sat through every single audition so he could tell every kid in America that they were better off working kitchens than pursuing their dreams?”

  Shrugging, I take a sip of my iced vanilla latte, the cold liquid cooling my overheated body, and bite my bottom lip. “He was a little harsh, but at least he wasn’t sugarcoating everything. Honesty means more, even if you don’t like it right away.”

  Wolf’s eyes find mine. Our shoulders are butted up against each other, his hard and bulgy, mine soft and still very sweaty. I swallow against the roll of my stomach.

  “I agree,” he finally says. “Honesty does mean more. Which is why I should probably tell you that sweat and a white sports bra is an epic combo. One I hope you’ll carry forward every single day of this tour.”

  My hand shoots out and smacks his chest. He laughs, but catches my hand. “Don’t be an asshole. I was just starting to like you.”

  “Really?” His brows shoot up and I immediately regret my statement. When I try to pull away he tugs me closer and wraps his hand around mine. “Sorry about the comment. I couldn’t resist.”

  My cheeks feel like they’re on fire, but I’m not sure if it’s from flattery or embarrassment. Wolf has me all kinds of confused.

  It’s not until I stand that he releases my hand. He tilts his head, locking eyes with mine. “What do you say, Lyric? Should we head back?”

  I think he just likes saying my name. Or maybe it’s me who likes hearing it. Fuck, I don’t know anymore. Each time his tongue lingers on the L a little too long, flutters erupt in my chest. I nod and take a step back.

  We decide to walk back to the hotel, all the while playing a game of Guess the Release Year. Wolf wins when I can’t get “I Stand Alone” by Godsmack, but it’s a close one. Wolf’s bandmates are already boarding the bus when we arrive, and we have to rush to the twelfth floor to shower and pack our things. But before I can step into my room, Wolf places a palm on my room door, blocking my entrance like he loves to do. “I had fun today.”

  I smile, because so did I. “Ditto.”

  His lip curls. “You’ve kind of screwed yourself if you weren’t looking for a new running partner.”

  I shrug. “Keep buying me coffee after, and I think that arrangement will work just fine.”

  His grin is full, melting my insides. “Deal.”

  He holds out a hand to shake, and I stick mine out.

  I don’t think I can lie to myself anymore. The moment our palms connect it’s like an electric current awakens something in me. I felt it before, but I wouldn’t let myself hold onto it. This time, I hold on for dear life.

  Chapter Ten

  Lyric

  The tour kicks off on Thursday at the PNC Arena in Raleigh to a sold-out crowd. Eighteen thousand attendees are already filtering into their seats around the end-stage, purchasing beer, taking selfies of themselves and the empty stage, and crowding the halls near the merch booths.

  I’m wearing my black Wolf tank and white, high-waisted skinny jeans with rips at the knees. My black, low-heel ankle boots give me more comfort than style since I’ll be walking the venue like a madwoman. I use the office backstage to print the final VIP and backstage lists that security will use to double check everyone with a badge.

  The band should be arriving any minute, so I head to their dressing room now to make sure they’re stocked with the essentials. They like to be at the arena one hour before showtime to greet the opening act, shoot the shit, and get pumped for the show.

  Simply Red, the openers, have an emotionally-driven rock sound much like Wolf’s. They were a great pick to open the show, but I’m surprised there isn’t more comradery between the two bands. Crawley doesn’t hide his anger toward them for almost walking from their contract, which is crazy, since it was his fuckup—not theirs. But his aggression has spoken volumes, enough for them to keep their travel schedule as distant from ours as possible. It’s unfortunate, really.

  I understand the importance of being an opening band on a crazy popular tour like this one. Wolf’s name could take Simply Red to places they never dreamed of, but with an awkward relationship, it makes their journey so much harder. As much as it bothers me, it’s not my place. I saved the opening act from walking away, and that’s really all I can do.

  Stepping into Wolf’s dressing room, I eye the stocked bar and check it for the band’s favorites. Johnnie Walker, Chivas, Patron, Voss water. Check. Next I check their snacks. Miniature dark chocolates, pistachios, gummy worms. Check. They also asked for sandwiches for their dinner and and shower gel for their after-concert showers. I laugh when I see something new on the menu. Iced skinny vanilla latte.

  Since when do the guys drink skinny lattes?

  “Miss Cassidy, hi,” greets one of the room assistants. She’s cute, probably still in college, with bright red hair and the bluest of blue eyes. She’s gorgeous, and the guys will agree. Panic swirls in my stomach when I think of Wolf layi
ng eyes on her.

  “Hi,” I say with a forced smile. “You must be Rachel.”

  Her smile widens. “That’s me. Would you like your latte now? I can run to the bar and grab you one.”

  My eyes widen and I check out the drink menu again. I mean, I always grab my coffee from the bar myself. Someone thought to put it on the menu. “Do you know who added this?”

  Rachel smiles when sees what I’m pointing at. “Wolf called earlier today. We just printed up a new menu. It was no problem at all.”

  I nod, feeling slightly off-balance at Wolf’s thoughtfulness. I guess he’s always been considerate in his own way, but it’s getting harder to ignore. “I would love one, thank you.”

  Rachel exits the room just seconds before the guys enter. Hedge sees me first and runs over, his hair bouncing around his head as he moves. I laugh as he wraps his arms around my waist and swings me around. I don’t have to sniff hard to smell the tequila wafting from his pores.

  “Hedge, have one of these,” Wolf says, coming up behind us and handing him a water.

  Hedge shoves him away in annoyance and hugs me tighter. My eyes bulge in confusion. “You fucker. You just don’t want me to hug Lyric.”

  Wolf slaps a hand on his shoulder and yanks him away. “You’re drunk. Drink this and get your shit together. First show, man. First show.”

  Derrick approaches for the assist, slinging an arm around Hedge and turning him away. “Let’s check out the venue or something, man.”

  Hedge behaves as he takes a pull from his water, but not before throwing Wolf a glare over his shoulder.

  “What was that about?” I ask, following Hedge with my eyes until he and Derrick have left the room.

  Wolf shrugs. “He’s just excited about the show. Drank a little too much back at the hotel.”

  Rachel comes back into the room, stepping past Misty and Stryder, who are fondling each other by the door. She hands me my latte, but her eyes are roaming over Wolf, assessing every detail. And liking what she sees. My stomach rolls.