Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
“You always work security? Do any personal protection services?” I wonder.
His mouth thins into a tight line. He stomps over to the corner of the bar and pulls a phone from behind a bottle on the counter. His loud, deep voice barks into the receiver. “You better get down here because I’m gonna beat the pretty boy up.”
I think he meant for me to hear that.
I finish off my second beer and wave him back. “I’ll have another one.”
“You gonna start a tab or what? Only the first one was free.”
I open my wallet and consider my limited options. I have several hundred-dollar bills and a black card. Neither form of payment seems right for the setting. The credit card has my name on it, and the hundred-dollar bill is way too big for this place. I lay the bill on the counter. “For everyone here since I’m a stranger.”
Security fingers the bill and then holds it up to the light for a long moment. When he finally decides it’s authentic, he shoves it into the drawer. “No offense.”
“None taken.” I grin. I haven’t had so much fun since the after-party of my first Grammys when I lost to some industry plant whose father owns the largest recording studio in the world. All the other losers and I went out and got lit. So many wild rumors started because of that night. I might be still dating one of those strippers or the male popstar who was caught sitting on my lap for a hot second. He’d fallen, but the photo made it look like we were extra cozy that night. I leave it up for the tabloids to fight over my social life—which due to my nonstop touring has been non-existent. When you’re on tour, you’re lucky to see anything outside of the venue, the hotel, and your staff. It’s playing one night, maybe two in one city and then moving on to another city the next night. It’s how you build your fanbase, how you pay your bills, but it also is how you lose all contact with the real world.
The door opens, and I feel a shift in the air. Instinctively, I know Clover is back. A spire of electricity spikes in my veins. Her T-shirt is exactly the same with the green four-leaf clover situated on a white background. This one isn’t wet, unfortunately.
“Are you giving my bartender a hard time?” she asks when she joins Security behind the bar.
“No ma’am.”
“What even brings you to Loveland? If you were looking for Vegas, you missed it about an hour West.”
“Loveland? Is that the name of this town?” Get Lucky is real.
“Yeah,” she says slowly, considering my answer.
“I came from Vegas. It was too noisy.” I jerk my thumb toward the back of the bar. “How come you don’t have a stage for a live band?”
She stiffens. “Not really into that.”
That explains why she doesn’t recognize me.
“Not into music or not into live music?” How can anyone not be into music?
“Music,” she says.
“You have a jukebox over here.”
“It came with the place,” she snaps.
Music appears to be a touchy subject. How can I be hard over someone who doesn’t like music? I frown at my lap and silently tell my dick I’m disappointed in him. He doesn’t care.
A bell rings, and Security disappears behind a door I hadn’t noticed before. When he returns, he has a tray of burgers, nachos, and sizzling fajitas. My stomach growls.
“I’ll have to take one of those.”
“There are three things on this tray.”
“I’ll have one of all of them.” I never eat before a concert, and I’d forgotten about that until just this moment. Usually, I eat after I’m done performing and then pass out full of carbs and red meat.
Security dips his head toward the kitchen. “Hey, Clov—”
“I’m on it,” she replies and ducks into the back kitchen.
The short exchange makes me testy. They’ve known each other so long that they’re finishing each other’s sentences. I can’t say why that bothers me, but it does. Like I know it’s irrational as hell to get angry over the fact that she’s more friendly with Security than me, but in the back of my head, it should be me finishing her sentences, and it should be my mind she’s reading. We should be in bed together, naked and fucking.
“You keep looking at her ass like that, I’m gonna take your eyes out,” Security growls in my ear as he passes.
When he returns from delivering the food, I ask him straight-out, “You two a thing?”
I hadn’t intended to fight this brick house, but I mean, if I gotta do it, I gotta do it. He’ll have a weakness somewhere. Everyone does.
He scowls. “No, she’s my boss.”
“No workplace romances allowed in the bar?”
“The problem with your type is that your mind is on only one thing.”