Fragile by A.K. Evans

Two

Cash

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

Sitting on the couch in our hotel room—a suite I was sharing with Beck—I watched as one of my closest friends walked over and sat down on the chair off to the left of the sofa. Our suite wasn’t the swankiest of accommodations we’d ever had, but the room was clean and spacious, so I had nothing to complain about.

Noting the look on Beck’s face, I had no doubt he’d just fed me a line of bullshit.

“You’re lying,” I declared.

“Yep,” he replied, his eyes pinned on the television. I knew he was staring at that in order to avoid looking at me. That wasn’t out of embarrassment; he was merely pissed off. Sure enough, he confirmed that a moment later when he clipped, “That guy is a fucking asshole.”

He was referring to the half-naked guy in the lobby.

“I can’t say I don’t agree,” I told him.

“Shit. That baby was only five weeks old,” Beck muttered.

It sucked.

Anyone who witnessed what happened downstairs would have thought the same thing. But I knew this was hitting Beck harder than it would the rest of us.

Beck was raised by a single mother. His father walked out when Beck and his younger sister, Sadie, were just kids. Beck was six at the time; Sadie was only two. Their mom busted her ass to take care of them. So, while Beck and his sister didn’t have a father around, their mom more than made up for the loss.

“Are you planning to do something about this?” I asked. “How was… what was her name, when she left?”

“Chasey,” Beck answered. “And I talked with her for a while to make sure she was okay. I mean, how good can a woman who’s just recently given birth to a baby feel when she walks in on her husband cheating on her? Anyway, before she got back in her car and took off, I gave her my personal number and told her to call if there was anything I could do to help her.”

I cocked an eyebrow.

I realized Beck had a soft spot for single moms, but I had to wonder if what he’d just done was a wise idea.

“Do you think that was smart?” I questioned him.

Maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say to Beck given his current state of mind, but I wanted him to be careful.

The truth was, we’d seen our fair share of women over the years who were only after one thing. Well, maybe two things. They either wanted money or the score.

Luckily, the majority went after the latter, so in most cases, it worked out for everyone. These women could say they fucked a rock star, and we got laid in the process. It was a win win in most of those cases.

But over the years, we’d seen our fair share of scandal, and in almost every case, it came down to money.

The last thing I wanted was to see Beck’s offer, which was coming from a good place, to wind up being a nightmare for him.

“I don’t give a fuck if it was or not,” he shot back. “I can always change my number, but she might not have anyone there to have her back. To me, it was worth the risk.”

I nodded my understanding. He’d made up his mind already, so it wasn’t like anything I said was going to change it.

Then again, that was how it always was with us. Beck and I had been friends for as long as I could remember, having gone to the same school since kindergarten. I’d known him and Killian the longest. Killian and I grew up in the same neighborhood in a small town in Pennsylvania. That very neighborhood was where the three of us would practice our music for hours after school or all day long in the summer in the garage of my parents’ home.

We were all thirteen at the time. When we decided to get more serious about it, we realized we needed a drummer. I could play drums, but I preferred to sing. One day, two years later, a new kid moved into the neighborhood. Walker had been walking his dog one summer afternoon and saw us in the garage.

“You need a drummer,” he told us.

“Yeah, um, they aren’t exactly easy to come by here,” I retorted. “We think all the cornfields are keeping them hidden away.”

“I play,” he declared.

“Are you any good?” Killian asked.

Killian didn’t give a shit. He played the guitar, and his solos could rival that of Eddie Van Halen, Randy Rhoads, and Slash. Killian wasn’t going to allow us to settle for less than the best.

Walker looked down at his dog and ordered, “Stay.”

Then, without an invitation, he strode into the garage and sat down at the drums. Seconds later, Beck, Killian, and I were all exchanging looks. Walker wasn’t just good. He was amazing.

Our band grew by one that day.

It started to feel like we were the real deal at that point. We practiced all the time, either coming up with new material or remaking some of our favorites.

As time went on, we started to find our own style, and three years later, Roscoe joined our crew as a bassist. Things only got better from there.

Four years later, after we’d already released two albums with mediocre success, Holland became the final missing piece of My Violent Heart. No sooner did we add her as a vocalist and songwriter when everything exploded for us.

Suddenly, money was pouring in, we were touring, and we had the best of the best to produce our music with. It had been a whirlwind, but it was something I knew we were all so grateful for.

My bandmates were my best friends. They were as much a part of my family as my actual family was.

I’d spent so long thinking about where we started and how far we’d come that Beck stood and declared, “I’m jumping in the shower. Maybe that’ll help cool me off. Who would have thought some small town like this could have so much drama?”

I didn’t know the answer to that, but I had my own thoughts about this small town. I wasn’t sure drama was the word I would have used to describe it, but I didn’t tell him that. Instead, I said, “Well, it’s only Thursday, and we don’t leave until Monday, so there’s plenty of time for more to be had if that’s what you’re looking for.”

Beck grunted as frustration washed over him. Then he turned and walked toward the second bedroom in the suite, where he’d find his own bathroom.

As I sat there, I thought about what Beck had just said. Though he had a point about it being drama here in this small town in New Hampshire considering what we witnessed upon entering the hotel, I couldn’t look at all of it as a bad thing.

Because for the first time in a very long time, I had a challenge before me.

Her name was Demi, and she was beyond fuckable.

My cock got hard just thinking about her sassy attitude, plump lips, and blue eyes. Plus, the way she wore her hair, most of the brown strands with champagne-colored highlights cascading down over her shoulders and only the very front pieces around her face had been pinned back. It was as though she wanted it to look sexy but not like she’d tried too hard.

Or maybe that was just it.

Maybe she was a woman who was effortlessly sexy.

Or perhaps I had it all wrong.

Perhaps I was so drawn to her because she was so very different from every other woman who’d come into contact with me.

Being a rock star had its perks. I never really had to work very hard to get laid. It was all part of what I’d been thinking about before when I was talking to Beck. Women just wanted to make that score and be able to say they fucked a rock star.

But not Demi.

She didn’t seem the least bit impressed by my rock star status. In fact, though I hadn’t had a whole lot of time to gauge exactly how she felt, I was willing to bet I’d learn quickly that she despises the very idea of me because of the fact that I do what I do for a living.

And that was what made her so much more appealing to me.

Demi wasn’t going to be easy to land.

But I had a feeling that if I took the time to make that happen, she was going to make it worth it. Even if for no other reason than to see that beautiful mouth wrapped around my cock.

Damn, her pretty pink lips were perfect.

What I liked even more was that she didn’t hold back from saying exactly how she felt with that mouth either.

Seeing her all fired up about that asshole in the lobby was a huge turn-on.

God, I wanted her in my bed and talking back to me more than I wanted to have a successful show tomorrow night. Considering how important our shows were to me, that was saying something.

Groaning in frustration, I stood and moved to my bedroom. Maybe I needed a cold shower, too.

We had a show tomorrow night, the night off on Saturday, another show on Sunday, and then we were back on the road on Monday.

Just as I told Beck, we had a few days here. I could use a bit of excitement and didn’t mind if we shook up the town a little bit.

Or, more specifically, I didn’t mind stirring up Demi just a tad to have some fun. Coming into this part of the tour, I didn’t think New Hampshire was a place I’d really remember. Now, I wasn’t so sure.

Because with eyes, lips, and an attitude like that, I had a feeling Demi wouldn’t let me forget it.

Demi

My head snapped up as I heard something get slapped down onto the counter at the front desk.

Cash Morris.

Ugh, did this guy ever give up?

It was Saturday night, and I was at work. Things were particularly busy for me because there was a wedding being held in our grand ballroom tonight. Of course, as the person in charge of the wedding, Sam had everything under control. But it was par for the course that there was always just a bit of a heavier workload for me on nights when there was a wedding. Many guests booked rooms at the hotel so they could enjoy the open bar at the wedding without the worry of having to drive home intoxicated.

I didn’t mind the busier nights. In fact, unless something crazy happened, I enjoyed the faster pace. It made the time pass quickly.

But right now, it seemed there was a lull in the typical demands for a night like tonight. Maybe that was because Sam was on top of her shit and had a wedding party with guests who weren’t completely crazy, or maybe it was just my luck.

“Can I help you?” I asked Cash.

He shook his head. “These are for you,” he declared, sliding his hand forward on the counter.

When he removed his hand from the reception desk, I looked down to see what he was giving me.

No way.

“What is this?” I asked, even though I was certain I already knew precisely what I was staring at.

“Two tickets for you and a friend to tomorrow night’s show,” he answered.

“I didn’t ask for tickets,” I told him.

He grinned. “I know that. But I’d love to see you there, so I’m giving them to you,” he explained.

Damn.

In any other situation, I would have loved to go to see My Violent Heart play a live show. This situation was anything but ordinary. I mean, the front man for the band was interested in getting in my pants.

I knew I wasn’t making that up in my head either. Cash made it clear what he was after, what with his wicked smile and flirtatious persona.

Sadly for him, I had no intentions of giving in to what he wanted. He could play this game without me.

When I spent too long thinking about all of this, Cash asked, “Do you not like our music?”

“What? No, I never said that,” I replied. I might not have liked his demeanor, but that didn’t mean I’d lie about his band and their talent.

“So, you do like us?” he pressed.

“I enjoy the music,” I corrected him. Then, because I wanted to really stick it to him, I decided to add some fuel to the fire. “Holland seems cool, though. And I don’t know… Killian can play a guitar like I’ve never seen before. I can only imagine the things that man can do with his fingers.”

Cash narrowed his eyes on me. He looked about ready to murder me if given the chance.

Serves him right for not backing off.

But no sooner had the murderous expression formed on his face when it was gone. It was replaced by a smirk.

“What’s that look for?” I asked, feeling less than amused.

“You like me,” he declared.

“What, in all that I just said, gave you that impression?” I retorted.

“The fact that you’re trying to make me jealous tells me you like me, and you’re now doing everything you can to avoid dealing with how I make you feel,” he explained.

Damn it.

I needed to get away from this guy before I went against everything I’d been doing all my life to protect myself. How much torture could a woman take?

Not that I’d ever tell him this, but Cash was beyond sexy. He had the whole rock star vibe going for him with his jeans, leather jackets, and silver rings. His body was phenomenal, something I knew from seeing pictures of him online. He also had a voice that was meant for making music.

I could only imagine how it would sound to hear him in bed.

Shit.

What was I thinking?

Get your head screwed on straight, Demi.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be tonight?” I asked.

“Nope.”

“What? You’re telling me that there wasn’t a single groupie from your show last night that wanted you to rock her world?” I questioned him.

Cash tipped his head to the side. “Would that have made you jealous?” he wondered. “Do you wish it was you whose world I was rocking?”

“Fuck no.”

The asshole smiled at me.

He didn’t believe a word that was coming out of my mouth. And even though there was some small, stupid part of me that was wishing I could have one night with Cash, there was the much larger and smarter part of me that knew I’d never give him a one-night stand.

That would surely ruin me, even if I went into it expecting it to only be one night.

There was no doubt in my mind, especially with his level of experience and his confidence, that Cash would be a great lay. The problem was that a woman like me would want far more than just one night. And men like Cash didn’t know how to commit and remain faithful.

He was hot.

He was tempting.

But he was a man I planned to stay very far away from.

“That’s a lot of anger for someone who claims to not have any feelings for me,” Cash pointed out.

Narrowing my eyes on him, I lowered my voice and seethed, “Oh, I’ve got plenty of feelings about you, Cash. Unfortunately for you, none of my feelings lead me to wanting to be your fuck toy for a night before you move on to the next town and the next groupie.”

“Maybe you’ll rock my world and I won’t want another groupie,” he reasoned.

I wanted to burst out laughing. He didn’t honestly believe that, but man, was he smooth.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” I asked.

He shook his head and leaned closer. His voice dropped a couple octaves, and he said, “Quite the opposite, Demi. I think you’re probably the smartest woman I’ve encountered on this tour. And you’re definitely the sexiest.”

I cocked an eyebrow.

“You should go,” I suggested.

“You know what room I’m staying in,” he offered before giving me a wink and moving toward the elevator.

“Hey!” I called out.

He stopped, turned around, and came back. “Change your mind already?” he asked.

I stared him straight in the eye and deadpanned, “Nope. You forgot your tickets.” Then I pushed them back across the counter.

He put his hand on top of mine without losing eye contact and slid my hand backward. “They’re yours,” he stated.

“I don’t want them.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

Yeah, right. Like that was ever going to happen.

I shook my head.

Cash assessed me a moment and said, “Keep them. Maybe you’ll change your mind.”

“I won’t,” I promised.

Without another word, he simply smiled and walked away. Before he even made it to the elevator, he was stopped by two women. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it was clear to see they were beyond thrilled that they’d just run into Cash.

One of the women ran up to me and asked, “Can I borrow a pen please?”

I wanted to roll my eyes. Handing the pen over, I could see the other woman was already taking a selfie with Cash.

No thanks.

After signing autographs for the women, they giggled their way out of the hotel doors.

Cash looked at me and shouted, “Good night, Demi. I’ll be in my room all night.”

I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, but I didn’t think it was a good look for the hotel. Instead, I ignored him and got back to work.

Luckily, things picked up after Cash walked away, and I only spent half of the remaining time I was at work thinking about him.