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  “Welcome to Booseys, ya’ll,” Ethan said into the mic. He pointed to each band member. “This is Ryan on guitar, Zak on bass, and the man behind the madness, Thrand, on drums. I’m Ethan, and we are DirtSlap.” He grinned when some very girly screams echoed throughout the bar. “Be patient with the staff, ya’ll. We weren’t expecting this kind of crowd. But thanks for coming. Hope you like this next one. It’s an original.”

  Shelby didn’t realize she stared until an arm curled around hers. She looked down to see Lila’s smiling face. “Told you. Amazing aren’t they?”

  Shelby nodded and wondered which one of the guys Lila was in love, or lust, with…whichever the case may be. By the look on her face the girl crushed on at least one of them.

  Although heavier than the covers, their original song still sounded country. The lyrics told a story about dirt roads and pick-up trucks, but it really showcased Ethan’s voice as he let a little scream escape now and then.

  Lila sighed. “Guess we better get this crowd handled.”

  With only four waitresses working the floor, they were outmanned and outnumbered, but Shelby did her best to keep up with demand. She served a group of guys in the corner of the bar and ignored their taunts and rude comments. The second time she passed, one of the guys snagged her arm.

  “Why don’t you sit here and keep me company, sweet thing.”

  She looked up into his glassy eyes and shook her head. “Working, sorry.”

  She tried to pull away, but they just laughed.

  “You need to let me go,” she demanded. Yelling would do no good in this madness.

  He tugged so hard she fell against him. “See? I knew you wanted it.”

  She attempted to jerk free, but the drunken guy clamped his arm firmly around her waist. Frantic, she looked for Mick, but he was on the other side of the crowded room and couldn’t see her.

  “Let me go!” She elbowed the guy in the ribs hard enough she almost got loose, but not quite. The other guys laughed again and egged him on. Her throat constricted when his hand squeezed her ass. A strong arm fell over her shoulder and pulled her to her feet. Pressed against a very large, firm body, she breathed a sigh of relief.

  Mick.

  She craned her neck up.

  Then swallowed hard.

  It wasn’t Mick.

  Ethan was bigger up close. His dark shades hung in the neck of his sleeveless tee. Bottomless black pools accentuated by black eyeliner stared into hers. He gave her a wink a moment before his mouth landed on hers.

  His lip ring was a cold contrast to her warm lips. Stunned, all she could do was gasp. His tongue swept against hers, and she shivered at the shocking metal of his tongue piercing. The tray she’d been holding like a weapon fell heedlessly to the floor.

  He was sweaty, hot, and for some unholy reason, she answered his kiss. Every shred of decency that had been force-fed into her was gone. A tiny part knew she should shove him away, but that part was lost in the uniqueness of being kissed by a man who very obviously knew exactly what he was doing. His arm tightened, and his hand angled her head so he could delve deeper.

  The noise and the crowd faded into nothing. Nothing but a burn that spread all the way to her toes. And there was nothing she could do but cling to him so wouldn’t melt into a puddle at his feet.

  He lifted his head, breaking the kiss, and reality smacked her in the face. The crowd roared in approval, and she sucked in a breath. He turned his attention to the guys who had been harassing her and smiled at them—or more accurately, bared his teeth.

  “Any questions?”

  All four shook their heads, not saying a word.

  He turned back to her and smiled, flashing two sets of full on dimples. It was a good thing his arm was still around her or she might have wilted to the floor. He leaned in, his breath hot on her ear.

  “No one will bother you now, Brown Eyes.”

  He left and wove his way through the crowd, people giving him high fives along the way. He easily hopped back on stage, grabbed his mic, and resumed his song.

  Shelby wavered on her feet. She had just been kissed—thoroughly kissed, she might add—by a complete and total stranger, who had a lip ring, wore eyeliner, and had a tongue piercing. Even worse, she kissed him back. She bit her swollen lower lip as the band continued playing.

  She reached down to pick up the tray, but the guy who manhandled her handed it to her.

  “Sorry, ma’am. Didn’t know you were his girl.”

  With cold, clammy hands she took the tray and went back to the bar where Mick and Lila met her.

  “Holy shit! Ethan just kissed the hell out of you. You lucky ducky,” Lila said all wide-eyed and impressed.

  Shelby looked to Mick for help, who held a more serious expression. “Sorry I didn’t see those guys, doll. Crowd is insane. Go take a break.”

  She nodded and took off through the back room and out the back door. She leaned against the brick and took several deep breaths of the night air. The wall vibrated with music from the band and Ethan’s voice.

  When her head cleared, Ethan’s intent became evident—even if she questioned his methods. Dear heavens, the man could kiss. In all her twenty-two years no one had ever made her feel like that.

  Not even Andrew. Her fiancé.

  Chapter 2

  The motorcycle rumbled and echoed through the quiet rural streets. Thick tall oaks lined the deserted road. Ethan Tackett rolled to a stop in front of a crooked red mailbox. He eyed the numbers and pulled out a scrap of paper to verify the address. Then he turned down the driveway where it curved into a circle drive. He stopped in front of a rundown house with an overgrown yard. Lots of big trees shaded the place.

  After the gig last night, he tried to find the girl, but she had disappeared. He owed her an apology. She had looked like a scared rabbit caught in a trap. Those big brown eyes haunted him all night.

  Lila had given him the address. That girl was more than happy to help him find Shelby Renner from Houston. The red headed imp didn’t skimp on details.

  He turned off his bike, shoved the kickstand down, got off, and looked around. The white house was two-story with an added on red garage as an afterthought. He’d spend most all his life in the middle of the city, this peace and quiet was as spooky as it was calming.

  He walked up the path, made the porch in one step, and was about to knock on the door, when he heard a scream from inside. Followed by a crash. He banged on the door.

  “Shelby?” he called. The only answer he got was another screech.

  His heart raced. Son of a bitch, what the hell was going on in there? He turned the knob, relieved he didn’t have to break down her door, yet pissed because it opened easily. Why the hell wasn’t it locked? He ducked under the doorway and was greeted by a mess of boxes and papers scattered all over the place. He rushed in, following the sound of dishes hitting the floor to the kitchen. Shelby knelt on the table, her dark hair pulled into a ponytail and dirt smudged her flushed cheeks. A chair lay on its side amidst shards of broken glass.

  She looked at him wildly and mumbled, “Mouse.”

  He couldn’t hold back a laugh. “I heard that scream and thought you were being attacked.”

  Tiny nails scratched at the vinyl floor as a mouse scurried behind a trashcan, and she squeaked again. “I am. By mice.”

  Her petulant look had him laughing again. “Sweetheart, they’re just mice.”

  She blinked, and her lips parted, like she just realized he was standing there. “What are you doing here? How did you find me? Are you some stalker? And mice bite…don’t they?”

  She looked ridiculous kneeling on the table and appeared more terrified of mice than him.

  “Lila.” He figured that was enough answer for most of her questions but added, “I came to apologize to you. And save you from biting mice, evidently.”

  “Freakin’ A, I knew those suckers bit.” She sat back on her heels and sighed.

  He couldn’t contai
n his grin at her non-cussing cuss words. “Damn them for having teeth so they can eat.”

  She rolled her eyes and asked, “Tell me again why you’re here?”

  “To apologize for kissing you.” He stopped when her eyes got big as saucers. No. That was a lie. He’d only meant to put a on a show for the assholes, but she responded. Participated even. Her tremors and gasps urged him to taste a little deeper.

  “Fuck that. No, I’m not. I’m sorry if I scared you.” There. That was much closer to the truth. He may have scared her or shocked her, which was not his intention, but her pouty lips fit perfectly against his, and he was asshole enough to want another taste as soon as possible.

  She bit her lower lip. Was her shyness an act for ‘come get me’ or the real thing? Silence hung for the longest time. She just stared at him like he was some alien with horns. He cocked a brow, and she shook her head.

  “Not scared. Shocked. I knew what you were trying to do…afterwards. Even if your methods were a bit crass.” She pushed loose strands of hair out of her face then primly laid her hands in her lap.

  The way she talked, suddenly so calm, had him backpedaling. She wore khaki shorts—with iron creases. Her tank top was bright red, and the dainty gold chain at her throat only emphasized her slender neck. And even though she sat atop a table, her back was straight, her posture proper. People judged him on a daily basis, but he hadn’t lived his life without learning about people and seeing past the bullshit.

  This girl was from money. Even if she sat in a ramshackle house with mice.

  “I don’t have a problem hitting someone who deserves it, but I didn’t want to start a brawl in my uncle’s bar. No one would mess with you if they thought you were with me.”

  She lifted her chin. “Cocky much?”

  “No. Fact.” He really liked watching her eyes widen. “Why don’t I help you off that table, Brown Eyes?”

  He didn’t give her a chance to reply as he gripped her by the waist and lifted her. She braced her hands on his shoulders, and he enjoyed her little gasp before he placed her on her feet well away from the broken glass. He released her, but her hands lingered before she jerked them back.

  “I could have done that,” she snapped.

  He pointed at her feet. “Bare feet and broken glass. Not a good combo.”

  She worried her lower lip. It brought his focus back to them. They were too damn full to be on such a little woman.

  “I’ll get some shoes,” she muttered and hurried to another room.

  He chuckled then rummaged through a closet, found a broom and dustpan, and swept up the glass.

  He dumped the last bit into the trash and turned to find her staring at him. She leaned on the doorway into the kitchen. Her head was cocked, and confusion filled her face.

  “I could have taken care of that.” She hesitated then frowned. “Thank you.”

  “No problem. How bout I take you to breakfast, and we can get you some mouse traps?” he asked as he put the broom and dustpan up.

  “But I don’t know you,” she replied, making it sound more like a question.

  “Sure you do. I’m Ethan, you’re Shelby. We know each other.” He smirked at her blinking eyes. She reminded him of a doe and just as skittish. He leaned against her countertop and crossed his arms. “Look at it as an apology breakfast.”

  She shifted her weight from foot to foot, uncertainty weighing heavy on her brows. “Um, well, okay.”

  “I promise I won’t bite. Unless you want me to.” He stepped up to her and wiped the smudge from her cheek. Her face flamed, and she pulled back from his touch. He held up his dirty finger. “It was dirt.”

  “Come on, I’m starving.” He walked through the living room cramped with boxes, out the door, and to his bike. He flipped down the foot pegs on the back. Gravel crunched behind him. Shelby stood, her knuckles white as she gripped her purse.

  “You ride a motorcycle. Of course,” she choked.

  “You’ve ever been on one?”

  Her terrified face said it all. “I can’t ride that.”

  “Why not? You might like it,” he coaxed.

  Her eyes swept him, then the bike. “I might fall off.”

  “Naw. You just hang on to me.”

  She looked like she just swallowed a bug.

  “Let’s take my car,” she replied shakily and took off towards the garage.

  He shrugged and followed her. Was a shame really. He had looked forward to her wrapped around his waist. She tugged on the garage door, but it didn’t budge. He gripped it for her and yanked hard to raise it.

  “How have you been getting your car out?”

  She blushed. “I’ve been having trouble with it, but last night I about killed myself trying to shut the stupid thing.”

  He looked up at the garage rails. “The wheel’s come off the tracks.”

  She glanced up with him and shook her head.

  “Everything has,” she whispered. “Let’s get food.”

  He dropped his gaze back to hers in time to catch a glimpse of sadness, before she slid around to the driver side and got in. She drove a pristine white Audi A6, which only confirmed what he’d suspected. She had money, but it didn’t mesh with her house. He got in and immediately adjusted the seat all the way back.

  He turned, and she had that deer-in-headlights look again. Staring at him in a way he couldn’t read. He was used to being sneered at, looked down upon, and even feared, but not the odd look she gave him.

  “I noticed a little diner on my way in.” He stared right back. If he looked long enough he could figure out her thoughts? But he was distracted by how dainty and perfect she looked behind the wheel of her elegant car.

  “You’re so big,” she whispered. The way she said it, he wasn’t sure she knew she’d said it out loud. “I know which diner you’re talking about.”

  They backed out, and the car purred down the streets. She put some big, fancy looking sunglasses on, and he settled himself into the leather and enjoyed the ride. She kept surprising him. She knew exactly which diner he’d been talking about, and it wasn’t some posh place, which he figured she would prefer.

  They parked, and she pulled off her glasses. “I haven’t been here in years.”

  “We can eat somewhere else, if you want,” he said, not liking the sadness that filled the car nor the glassy look in her eyes.

  “No, this is fine.” She forced a smile then swiftly got out of her car.

  He followed and opened the door for her. Surprise marked her features.

  “Thanks,” she offered and ducked her head.

  “Sit anywhere you like,” a waitress said in a sing-songy voice.

  They moved to a back booth, and Ethan sat facing the door. He’d learned the hard way, you gotta see what’s coming at you. They looked over the menu, ordered, and she was once again staring at him.

  His lips twitched. “All right, Brown Eyes. What’s up?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You keep staring at me, and although I’m fairly immune to it, I can’t figure out what you’re thinking.” Her face flushed, and her lashes fell against her cheeks as she looked down. Damn. He could watch her do that all day.

  “I’m sorry. That was rude of me.”

  “Fuck rude. What is it?” He laced his hands together on the tabletop and lowered his head so he could see her face.

  She abruptly met his gaze. “I’ve never seen anyone like you. And I’m confused.”

  He grinned, and her lips parted slightly. “When you say anyone like me, are you referring to how I look?”

  “Yes. Your looks don’t match who you seem to be.”

  He smirked. “Back at you, babe. You live in a shack yet drive an Audi.”

  The waitress delivered their food and interrupted them. She nervously fiddled with her napkin.

  “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want—”

  “My Gran died. It was unexpected. I hadn’t seen her…in way to
o long. This is her house. Or was. She left it to me. But the last time I was here, it was nice. She never told me she was sick. Never told me she needed help.”

  It was his turn to be surprised, and he paused mid-bite. She’d seemed closed off, until now. Her story poured out in a rush.

  “It’s a mess. I can’t sell it like this. Stupid freakin’ mother and her husband wouldn’t let me see her. I can’t believe them.” She put a hand on her head.

  “I should’ve been here,” she choked out. She threw the crushed napkin on the table and looked up at him. “And I shouldn’t be telling you all this, I don’t even flipping know you. Not only that, they would force me back to Houston if they knew I was having breakfast with someone like you.”

  He didn’t know her, this Shelby from Houston. But there were two things he did know. She was a sweet girl who had no business eating breakfast with him, on that her parents were right. But she had opened up. To him. No one ever did that.

  “I’m sorry about your Gran but don’t give two shits what your parents think.” That earned him a smile. A real one that made the gold flecks in her eyes sparkle.

  It was his turn to stare.

  “Oh, lordy, they would do just that if they heard you talk that way.” Her light laugh floated in the air and wrapped around him.

  She fascinated him with her quiet shyness, then open honesty. And those lips. Yeah, he was definitely fascinated by those.

  “I might be able to help you. I fix things. Handyman of sorts.”

  “Really?” she asked as she ate her omelet.

  “Yup. You don’t really see me sitting behind a desk, do you? There are only a handful of things you can do when you look like I do.”

  She inspected him from his tattooed arms to his face. He tensed, knowing what she saw. She appeared more intrigued than offended. Then she worried that lower lip.

  Again.

  Damn.

  He shifted.

  She smiled tentatively. “You’re probably right. So what can you do?”

  She was talking about work, but his mind wandered to all the things he’d like to do to those lips.