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Jett stands, shoving his chair back, his face wild with the anger he can’t contain any longer. “Get your head out of your ass, Van. I’m all for keeping pace, but I’m also smarter than that, and know we have to do it slowly.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he storms off towards the back of the restaurant. I watch him for a few moments and then turn back to Van who is also staring after him.
West is pissed now, too. “What the hell has gotten into you two lately?”
Van directs his hard glare to West and says, “I’m sick to death of him telling us what we’re going to do and making all the band decisions.”
“For fuck’s sake, Van, he doesn’t make all our decisions. We all get a say.”
“It doesn’t feel like it. And this is a prime example. I’m making a suggestion that we need to think about our sound and make some changes and he’s shooting every suggestion down.”
“That’s not what I heard,” Hunter says. God, the man is so calm, and I can’t help but think he must have some serious shit hidden underneath that totally calm façade. People who are that controlled always have heavy shit buried deep.
“Well, it’s what I fucking heard,” Van barks.
Hunter’s body is rigid as he leans his face forward but his face is clear of any kind of irritation and his voice is still deathly calm. “I think you’re still fucked up over that bitch cheating on you and I think you’re taking it out on Jett and on us.” He takes a breath before adding, “And I think you need to get your shit together. Fast.”
My attention suddenly shifts when I catch sight of a familiar face coming through the front door of the restaurant. My manager, Michael, walks in and is seated at a table not far from us. He’s with a guy I’ve never seen before; a really fucking good looking guy that I struggle to take my eyes off. I’m committed to Jett and would never stray, but hell, there’s no harm in looking. Van and West are still going at it but it’s like white noise to me while I watch Michael and this dude.
I’m just about to tear my gaze from the hot guy when Michael eyes me and waves for me to come over. I excuse myself from the table and head over to where they are. Flashing a smile at both men, I say, “Hey Michael,” and then I turn to his friend and say, “Hi, I’m Presley.”
The guy’s eyes light up and he stands. Putting his hand out to shake mine, he says, “Presley, we finally meet.”
Oh good lord, I would know that voice anywhere. It’s the Kentucky Fire voice from earlier today. And the voice matches the looks. Diesel’s as hot as they come with an easy smile that lights up his face, dimples that would grab any woman’s attention, and scruff that makes him even more irresistible. His dark hair is shaved close to his head, his arms are covered in colourful tattoos, and his ears are pierced with spacers. He’s the quintessential rocker with jeans that hug his legs, a fitted black t-shirt that paints his muscles, chains around his neck, rings on his fingers, and heavy black boots.
I shake his hand and then try to let go, but he keeps hold, so I’m left standing there in limbo waiting for my hand back. “Hi,” I say with uncertainty, waiting for him to release me, and feeling like I’m on the back foot here. Like he’s got all the control here. And I hate feeling that way.
He grins and eventually drops my hand but his eyes are all over me. This guy manages to fluster me and piss me off all in one go; not a good combination. When his eyes meet mine again, he flirts with me as relentlessly as he did on the phone this morning. “You’re everything I imagined you’d be, darlin’”
I roll my eyes. I’ve managed to regain my sense of control, and although he’s hot as hell and smooth as they come, I’m not even vaguely interested. “And you’re everything I wish you weren’t.”
The twinkle in his eye doesn’t escape me. God, I’m not trying to encourage him, but it seems that everything I say is exactly what he likes to hear. “Please keep talking, ‘cause every damn word out of your mouth is getting me hard,” he says, and I’m so relieved Jett is nowhere in sight.
Time to get the hell out of here. “It was good to meet you, but I’ve gotta get back to my table.” I quickly turn to Michael and promise, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I’ve made up my mind – I’m not working with Diesel. He couldn’t pay me enough money to ever work with him.
Diesel’s hand lands on my arm and he moves it to grasp my wrist and halt me. “Have you made a decision yet?” he asks, his eyes steady on mine, as if I’m the only person in the room.
I don’t want to get into my decision with him because I know his type; he’ll do everything to try and get me to change my mind. “No, I’m still thinking it over,” I lie. “I know you need an answer yesterday so I’ll definitely have one for you soon.”
He regards me for a moment and then says, “I look forward to it.”
I’m just about to turn and leave when a deep voice sounds from behind me.
“Get your hand off my woman, Diesel.”
I wait for Jett’s hands to slide around my waist but he simply steps next to me to confront Diesel.
“I didn’t realise she was your woman, Jett,” Diesel responds without letting me go, but I shake my arm free and take a step back.
“She is.” Jett doesn’t say much but his voice holds a warning. However, Diesel doesn’t seem like the kind of man to listen to warnings. He strikes me as the kind of man who lives his life on his own terms and
fuck what anyone else says.
“I don’t see a ring on her finger.” Diesel stands firm and I groan on the inside.
Men!
I interrupt their dick-slinging back and forth. “I’m with Jett, Diesel, and I certainly don’t need a ring to prove that,” I say with force. He needs to hear this, and he needs to leave us be, because Jett’s getting more worked up every second we stand here.
