Accidental Rock Star (13 page)

Mom returned his smile.
She’d known Ethan and Dylan all their lives. “Ethan got a date?
Awww.”

Tyler winced. “My
cousin Baylee.”

Aria hadn’t known they
were going out in a group. It kind of took the pressure off.

Mom rambled, “Where are
you going to college? What will you study?”

Tyler answered,
“California,” “Love it,” and, “Undecided.”

Aria tugged him toward
the door before they could quiz him for too long and they walked
down the front walk. “Why California?” She paused at the passenger
door and waited.

Tyler, who’d reached
the front of the truck, turned around, came back, and opened it for
her.

“Thanks.”

He winked, helped her
in, and then went around to the driver’s side.

“Why California?”

“My parents live
there.”

“Oh.” She wanted to
know but didn’t know how to ask. Then she just had to. “Why are you
in Texas?”

Tyler shifted, and his
fists tightened on the steering wheel. “A girl I dated got out of
control. So they thought it would be good if I stayed with Baylee’s
family for a while.”

That shook her. “What’s
that mean?”

“Look. You can’t tell
anyone. I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

“Okay.”

“A girl I dated got a
little obsessive. Possessive. Stalker-chick crazy.”

“Oh.” She hated the
thought of his dating someone else. But at least he hadn’t done
anything wrong, like Hunter had implied.

“Why couldn’t I mention
band?”

“My parents aren’t
really into music.”

He glanced at her. “Who
the hell’s not into music?”

“I know.”

They left her
neighborhood, and the mail boxes grew further and further apart.
“My mom’s sister, Aunt Bev, travels around a lot, trying to make it
with her band. She stays with us when she’s between gigs or out of
money.” She shook off the negativity. Aunt Bev teaching her about
music was the best. They played everything. Folk music. Reggae.
Country. Rock. Aunt Bev loved drums, banjo, and guitar. “Aunt Bev
says stuff like, ‘music’s like touching the soul of the songwriter.
They played this piece a hundred years ago. It’s like time travel.
Can you imagine?’ She’s cool but …” She shrugged.

“Is that why you think
you’re going to give up music after high school?”

How did he know that?
She didn’t like to think about it and didn’t think she talked about
it much. She shifted on the seat and toyed with the strap on the
seatbelt, her hands sweaty.

She shrugged. “Music’s
not all that practical. You know.”

“Oh, there’s a lot of
practical in the business of music.”

She didn’t answer. She
couldn’t disappoint her parents and make them worry that way. She
wouldn’t have them sending her money and talking about her in
disappointed tones over breakfast.

“They know you’re in
band, right? I mean, small town—of course they know.”

“Yeah. They know I’m in
band. Of course. They just don’t know I’m in a garage band.”

“I can’t believe you’re
keeping us a secret.” He sounded half mocking.

“Whatever. Let’s talk
about something else.”

They neared the Lizard
Factory. The huge metal warehouse was painted dark green and had a
sprawling neon lizard on the side. The sign out front said,
Scurry on in
.

Tyler pointed. “What’s
that?”

He had to ask?
“Really?”

Tyler slowed and
stared. “The lizard factory?”

The small gravel drive
led to a parking lot in front of the offices, reserved for
managers. The huge side lot was for the rest of the employees. And
the back was where they loaded the semis for shipments. “They
employ half the town?”

“Yep. My parents. Your
aunt. Ethan’s dad. Dylan’s uncle.”

“I can’t believe you
know all that. I couldn’t even tell you what my friends’ parents do
for a living.”

“Small town.” Aria
moved her purse from the seat to the floorboard. “Hunter’s dad is
one of the owners. He works there, too.”

“Why’d you bring up
Hunter?” Tyler’s voice sharpened.

Because he’d texted
her. She didn’t tell Tyler that. “Small town.”

Tyler dropped it.

“Where’s the band? What
kind of band?”

“Dylan knows a club we
can get into. Country. You’ll love it,” Tyler said.

“Tell me some of the
hard stuff.”

“Like what?” He tapped
his fingers on the steering wheel and grinned at her over the
music.

Hunter’s text had
bothered her and the feeling reminded her of their first rehearsal
when she’d walked in on Tyler telling the guys a bunch of crap.
“Tell me what made you say that to the guys back at our first
rehearsal. About the girls.”

Tyler worked his
jaw.

She stiffened.

His hand covered hers.
“I may have done some crap. Back home. But I can’t change that. I
can only try and treat you like you want to be treated.” He lowered
and softened his voice. “Like I want to treat you. Slow. Taking it
all slow. Like it matters. Like we don’t want to miss any of
it.”

It was so romantic. And
he had perfect timing. They arrived. He pulled the truck onto a
gravel parking lot behind the honky-tonk and turned to her. “We’re
okay?”

Okay was too mild a
word for the million different things he made her feel. “Yes.”

“We’re better than
okay?”

“Yes. Now take me
dancing.”

Tyler stepped back, and
she followed him to the entrance. They got their hands stamped
under-aged
and went in.

As soon as they walked
through the door, smoke, darkness and their friends waved them over
to their corner table. Dylan and his date Megan stayed lip locked.
Baylee and Ethan were having a friendly argument over movie
releases. No chemistry there that she could see, but they were
getting along.

Tyler looked around.
“They’re smoking indoors.”

“Yeah.”

“They don’t do that in
Cal… Montana.”

“Back me up,” Ethan
said. “If Chewbacca’s not a direct relative of the Ewoks, then what
is he?”

Baylee rolled her eyes
and stared at a beer-can advertisement on the wall.

“Can’t, dude.” Tyler
said. “My girl wants to dance.”

His girl. Shivers
sparked through her, leaving her all tingly.

Tyler didn’t give her
time to sit. He pulled her out onto the dance floor. A slow waltz
played through the speakers. There were enough dancers on the floor
that they weren’t on show, but not too crowded that they’d be
running into other couples. Tyler put one hand at her waist, firm,
strong, and clasped her hand. The music carried her backward. Her
flats slid easily on the sawdust-covered dance floor, so did
Tyler’s boots. She’d noticed them straight off, because they made
him even taller.

Tyler tightened his
fingers on hers. “Look at me. Not at our feet. Trust me.”

She threw her head
back, gliding into the rhythm with him. They taught these dances in
P.E. She knew them. She was just surprised that Tyler could dance.
He moved with rhythm and confidence and strength. It was such a
turn-on. “You’re really good.”

He moved his fingers
against her back. “We’re good together.”

One song blended into
the other. She loved the spins and the twists, the breaks for
water, and chatting with the guys. But it was the last song of the
night that got to her. Her favorite song. Cello. A love song. Deep
male vocals. And to hear it while she was here with Tyler,
bliss.

Tyler slid both arms
around her waist, his mouth against her ear. “This song’s growing
on me.”

Aria tightened her arms
around his neck. “I can’t believe this is playing. I love it.”

Tyler slid one leg
between hers, and their bodies aligned. Their dance steps slowed to
a shuffle. Tyler’s fingertips rested low on her hips. He ran one
hand up her back and back down. The dancing all night had been a
tease. Hard muscles. Smell of his cologne. Tyler’s grin. His green
eyes.

Tyler slid one hand up
to the middle of her back and tangled his hand in her hair. He gave
it a sharp tug. The sensations lit up her scalp and drew her head
back. Her mouth parted. Her lips felt fuller, hypersensitive. She
dropped her gaze to his lips. Masculine. Beautiful. She swallowed.
She wanted to kiss him. She wanted his mouth on hers more than she
wanted to hear the next line of lyrics. Her heart pounded in tune
with the bass from the speakers. The warmth of his body
complemented the warmth of hers.

Tyler’s eyes met hers.
His were intent. A flush hit his cheekbones. He bit off a curse.
His slow steps became a pull as he turned and drew her to the
corner of the dance floor. His mouth landed on hers. Pressing firm.
A shiver shook her from her lips down her elbows, through her core,
down to her toes. She actually felt the tips of her toes. Not the
soreness of her feet after dancing for hours. But tingles of
sensation. She pressed closer, stretching up to have the perfect
angle of his mouth align with hers, every inch of her body flush
against his. Delicious.

His tongue traced the
edge of her mouth. The edge of her teeth. The tip of her tongue.
Circular. Rhythmic. Tyler.

The lights flashed on
in a rude end-of-night signal. “Closing time. Drink up. Head out,”
the deejay called.

Tyler pulled his mouth
off hers. “Damn.” He draped his arm over her shoulders, keeping one
of her hands clasped in his. They walked back to the table, but the
guys had left already. She checked her phone. “Wow. Okay.
Forty-five minutes ’til curfew.”

She walked with the
crowd out toward the exit, her hand in Tyler’s. Couples brushed
past them, some stumbling after a few too many. Some laughing. Some
bickering. None of it really touched her. She floated in a bubble,
just her and Tyler, the entire way to the truck.

Tyler opened her door
and lifted her up, facing him. He stepped between her legs. “I can
get you home in thirty. We have tons of time.”

Aria drew her tongue
over her lower lip. Her eyelids felt heavy. She knew what she
wanted. She wanted to kiss him. Lots. Heat rushed under her skin.
Dare she say it?
I want to make out at the Pointe.
A million
ways to make that sound subtle occurred to her.
I know a place
with a great view. I wouldn’t mind sitting for a spell.
She’d
just put it out there, “We could stop at the Pointe.” She kept her
gaze forward, waiting for his response. Headlights popped on and
cars pulled out of the lamp-lit parking lot and onto the streets
around them. She focused on Tyler.

“Yes.” He kissed her
quick on the mouth and went around to get in. Tyler drove fast.
Faster than he should at this hour, when all the cops were out, but
she didn’t say anything. She wanted to get to the Pointe, too.
“Take exit 412.”

Tyler exited and
randomly took one of the lanes leading off to the bluff over the
state park. He didn’t drive far enough in to get to a good lookout
spot. He turned the engine off, and shifted the keys so the music
played low.

He’d left it on country
and had sung a few of the lines from various songs as he picked
them up. Aria sang along, carrying on solo when he didn’t know all
the lyrics. She loved music, and Tyler was fun. It was fun. And now
she was getting a kiss, too. She grinned. “You have a great voice.
Rich tone. Perfect pitch.”

His eyes were intense.
“Thanks.”

“Really great—the way
you sing country, even though you’re imitating my twang.”

Tyler didn’t answer or
chat or do any nervous-guy moves. He put one arm around her waist,
cupped the back of her head, and pulled her to the middle of the
bench seat. Her skirt twisted around her thighs, and she shifted.
Tyler lifted her legs over his lap and leaned into her.

His lips landed on
hers. It was like in the club but better. Better angle. Tyler
kissed with deep mesmerizing kisses. Aria held on for the ride. He
moved his mouth down the side of her neck. Magic. She sucked in a
breath of air and pressed closer. Tyler shuddered and shifted her
onto his lap, the steering wheel behind her, her legs straddling
him. He fumbled down beside the seat as she kissed him. Soft light
kisses on his lips. The seat dropped back like a recliner,
stretching her out on top of him. Tyler shifted her to the right.
The cushion of the seat lay under her shoulder, and he pulled back
a second. She raised her eyes to him. Impossible to read his face
in the dark.

Tyler groaned and
shifted her back to straddling his lap. “We need more space. I’m
too big for this truck.” His voice came out husky and deep.

She shrugged, not able
to follow his logic. “What’s bigger than a truck?”

“Limo. We need a
limo.”

“Limo.” She giggled.
“Maybe for prom.” Heat hit her face. “I mean if we go to prom. If
we’re dating in June.”

“We’re dating in June.”
He caressed her sides. Electric tingles followed the sensation. She
thrilled at his words. She squirmed on his lap and pressed her lips
against his. Tyler gasped against her mouth and grabbed her hips
with firm fingers, holding her still. He dropped his head back and
made a delicious sound: moan, groan, she didn’t know what. But
masculine and appreciative. She kissed the cords of his throat, her
mouth roaming over his skin. She hummed her own appreciation at the
sensation.

Lyrics sounded from her
purse, competing with the low music on the radio and the low thrum
in her veins. The song played her alarm tune. Her pre-set to ‘get
home on time’ alarm. She turned her head away from Tyler’s
searching mouth, shivering when his lips fell to her neck while she
checked the clock on the dash.

Almost curfew. They had
to go, though it seemed like they’d just gotten there. She drew
away, falling back toward her seat.

Tyler mumbled a
protest. He traced his fingertips over her calves. She’d left them
in his lap. His touch felt amazing. “You have to take me home now.
I can’t get grounded.”