Rock the Boat Read online

  “I’m pretty sure he performs somewhere every day. So, if you don’t want to go, that’s perfectly fine with me. We can catch him another night.”

  “Oh, no you don’t. We’re going to the show tonight. And I’m going to enjoy every second of watching you squirm. Plus, I need to check him out for myself.”

  I don’t bother arguing with her. Mostly because I want to be there watching Easton in his element. This may be the only time in my life I can say I dated someone famous. Not to mention I’ll know exactly where he is, so I can relax long enough to stop wondering if he’s close by. “When are you seeing Lincoln again? Did you invite him, too?”

  “We’re supposed to be going to the beach tomorrow when we dock in Nassau. Nothing like jumping into a bathing suit in front of a guy you just met.” She pauses a second before laughing. “Then again, you probably lost your clothes completely.”

  I kick her under the table. “My clothes were on, thank you very much.”

  “On and around your waist are two different things, Lark.”

  I’ll never win this argument, so I stand up from the table, excusing myself to the bathroom. I need a minute. A long minute to get myself together before I go back out there and finish the night.

  I set my bag on the counter and rifle through for some lip gloss. My hand taps against something cool. I pull out the anniversary ring from Grant that I tossed in haphazardly the other night after too much thinking. I left the house with it on my finger, positive that I could still wear it, even with the meaning attached to it. When I found myself staring at it more than I should, I pulled it off and swore I’d never put it back on my finger. Finding it now only screws with my head more, but regardless of what I choose to do with Easton, I can’t go back to the way things were. Those days have come and gone.

  As we’re leaving the casino, Noelle practically runs right into a guy wearing a deep navy, pinstripe suit. He’s put together, sure of himself, yet his eyes soften the second they settle on Noelle’s. He leans in to hug her, holding on a few seconds too long for it to be anyone other than Lincoln.

  Her head tips back, a smile easily replacing the anger she was spewing only a few minutes ago about losing her ass on the blackjack table. Very calmly, she says, “Lark, this is my match, Lincoln.”

  Letting go of her, he stares at me, his eyes appreciatively taking me in from head to toe. It’s a little weird considering he’s with someone else, but I hold out my hand anyway, offering him a warm smile.

  He smiles warmly in return, slightly redeeming himself. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Lark.”

  “All good, I hope. You guys take your time. I’ll be at the champagne bar when you’re ready.” As I step away, I realize what Noelle was talking about—he’s a metrosexual masterpiece. Lincoln looks like he just stepped off Wall Street. He’s dressed to the nines and doused in cologne with every single hair in place—including his brows.

  He’s nothing like the last guy she dated, or any guy for that matter. But he seems like he has a lot to offer, and the possessive hand resting on the small of Noelle’s back is proof he’s interested. He’s taking every opportunity he can find to touch her, staking his claim.

  While I’m spying from a distance, the bartender sets a glass of champagne in front of me. I don’t need it, but I graciously accept it anyway. The cool flute is barely touching my lips when a warm breath billows across the hollow of my neck. “Do you want more yet?”

  His husky voice freezes me in place, the bottom of my stomach plummeting all the way to the floor. By the time I regain control, he’s already walking away from me, catching up to a group of guys dressed similarly to him. I steal a glance at his ass, the chain in his back pocket bouncing back and forth with every step he takes. I wait for him to look over his shoulder for even the slightest bit of eye contact, but he never turns around. Instead I’m left with a cold drink and a flushed body.

  “That was him, wasn’t it?” Noelle’s standing on my other side, but I didn’t even realize it. That’s how much of the air around me Easton still occupies.

  “That was him.”

  Her jaw hangs open, a look of complete disbelief washing over her. “If he looks half as good from the front as he does from the back, I might have to fight you for him.”

  She’s my best friend. Noelle would never try to steal my guy, but hearing her jokingly stake her claim makes me realize how much the idea of Easton being with another woman would destroy me. It has everything to do with being cheated on in the past, but I don’t want anyone else to be in his bed tonight but me—especially now that he’s touched me and offered me more.

  Given his profession, lifestyle, and all the stigmas that go along with the world of rock and roll, Easton is a huge risk, but I can’t help myself. Now that I’ve had a sample, my body wants to explore the new mystery I’ve been given. Ripped jeans, leather, chains, and vintage T-shirts have never been my thing—until now. Finally, I see the appeal.

  “We should head to the theater if you want to get seats up front. Personally, I’d like to take stock on the rest of the band in case any others are single.”

  “Noelle, Lincoln likes you. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised on your date tomorrow.”

  “I hope you’re right. I’d be bummed if I came all this way for nothing.”

  She’s been looking forward to this trip, talking non-stop about it from the second she placed the questionnaire in my hand. Out of the two of us, she’s the hopeless romantic. Which is why I want Lincoln to be everything she’s been searching for. “I usually have good judgement, right?”

  She hooks her arm in mine, resting her head on my shoulder as we walk. “It’s silly how bad I want this, Lark, but I can’t help it. All the pieces are there, I just have to make sure they click.”

  “He’ll like you because you’re you. Not because he’s being forced to or thinks he has to.”

  “That’s easy for you to say, you’ve already gotten your money’s worth,” she jokes. “But you have always been the level-headed one in this friendship.”

  “I am, which is why I won’t let you cheapen this, making us sound like hookers paying for sex.”

  “That’s not what I meant, but just in case I haven’t said it, I’m really proud of you for giving it a shot with Easton. I like seeing this goofy grin on your face—it’s been awhile.”

  “Like you always remind me, sometimes bad things happen to good people. I’m hoping the worst is in the past.”

  “You and me both.”

  She lifts her head off my shoulder as soon as we enter the theater. Her eyes are wide as she takes in the room, mine zoning in on the red curtain separating the crowd from the rest of the stage. It sways back and forth as the band sets up behind it, and while I couldn’t have told you the color of the fabric in the dark, I can still feel the softness of the material as it brushed against my bare legs earlier today.

  “I’m hoping Midnight Fate hasn’t changed much since they disappeared. Easton’s still the lead singer, right?”

  “Yeah, but I think he said he plays the guitar—and possibly the drums, too.” I can hardly say the word drum without panting like a dog in heat. I have no idea if he can play the actual instrument, but whatever he did to me, makes him a damn prodigy as far as I’m concerned.

  “You understand how lucky you are, right?”

  “I’m slowly learning,” I admit, as Noelle stares at the stage in awe as the crew makes their final adjustments to the set. She’s always loved going to concerts. While I was fine standing near the side or closer to the back of the crowd, she would rush the stage, her body pushed as far up against the divider as possible. By the time we met up at the end of the show, she would be covered in a combination of water, sweat, and beer. It was disgusting, but to her it was Heaven on Earth.

  She claps her hands when the theater lights blink three times, signaling the show’s about to start. They stay dim after that, but I can see each band member as Midnight Fate takes the st
age. Once the spotlights are in place, Noelle’s eyes scan over each guy, her eyes nearly popping out of her head when they land on Easton. “Holy shit, Lark. This year has been kind to him.”

  “He’s not bad, right?”

  “He’s banging—and I would have gotten naked with him, too. Though from the looks of it, he’s in good company. I think I’d strip for any one of them.”

  “I didn’t hook-up with him because he’s in a band. I also wasn’t naked. How many times do I have to tell you that?” My shirt was still in place. In fact, my bra never came off my body. Other than my neck, his attention was all focused much farther south.

  “Whatever you say, but Easton’s hot. You’re a fool if you don’t get on that—plenty.”

  I don’t bother denying it because all six feet of his toned, tattooed body has me wanting more. He’s a walking temptation that I barely know, but can’t wait to get reacquainted with, especially since we kissed almost as much as we spoke.

  His movements are calculated as he steps up to the microphone. His deep blue eyes, the perfect contrast to his dark hair, scan the crowd in front of him. When his gaze sweeps by me, I wonder if he’ll ever spot me in the crowd.

  “Are you ready to be rocked?” he yells into the microphone, the sexy grit of his voice making my legs clench. The energy in the room quickly soars from tame to slightly out of control as whistles of appreciation echo around the room. I guarantee my heart isn’t the only one racing.

  Noelle leans closer to me, shouting above the noise, “I can’t believe you know him. This is so awesome.”

  “I hung out with him once, it’s not like we’re close.”

  She glares at me, shaking her head. “The mark on your neck says otherwise.”

  My hand covers my neck, the bruise only a little tender to the touch. I stare at his hands, remembering the way they felt on my body—his calloused fingertips from his time spent playing the guitar, the unexpected softness of his palm, and the rougher skin across his knuckles.

  Yes, I’m definitely attracted to Easton, but I can’t see a bigger picture with him and that would be a problem if we planned on taking this beyond this week. His life is too unpredictable for a girl with her roots firmly planted in Delaware.

  “Do you think he has a brother?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Just as I turn my eyes back to the stage, Easton reaches into his back pocket, pulling out two drumsticks. He smiles as he sets them on the stool next to him. “Those are for special occasions,” he says with a laugh only I’d understand. “Tonight, I’m going to sing for you.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat, my heart beating so wildly I grip the arm rest on my seat like I’m on a plane headed for a crash landing. Noelle’s eyes are glued to Easton, but mine are solely focused on the sticks. I can still feel them between my legs, his body on top of mine, and his mouth on my neck. Noelle glances at me, probably wondering why I’m acting so weird, but she doesn’t puts two and two together, thankfully.

  I’m able to relax after the first song. With each that follows, I become more and more entranced by Easton’s voice. I find myself wondering what each song means, and the story that was the foundation for the lyrics.

  They continue playing for a full hour before Easton pulls the stool closer to the edge of the stage, microphone in hand. “This is our final song of the night, I hope you like it.” His eyes fall to the floor and he runs his hand over his face like he’s gathering the strength to keep going. It only intrigues me more.

  But as soon as the song hits the chorus, I can tell they’re ending with this one for a reason. Along with everyone else in the theater, Noelle and I sway from side to side as the powerful lyrics swallow up the entire room, consuming us all. Each verse is eerie, like the words Easton’s singing are incredibly personal to him. So much so, his face twists like he’s in pain each time his eyes close. His body’s still on the stage, but the rest of him has been transported elsewhere.

  The way he describes her, it’s clear she means everything to him—even if he is singing about her like she’s never coming back from wherever it is she went. A song about the past is one I can relate to—one that makes me wish circumstances were different, even if they are out of my control. It’s clear whatever barrier is keeping Easton from his happiness is hidden inside this song.

  Noelle wipes a tear from her eye, his words even hitting her soft spot. “Lark, if you don’t go to him after this, I’m going for you. This shit is amazing.”

  And she’s right. There’s no way I’ll be able to fall asleep tonight without seeing him. Especially knowing he’s in his bed only a few decks below me—alone.

  God, I hope he’s alone when I get there.

  Having Lark here tonight made this show, different. She couldn’t see me when she walked into the theater, but as I was bending down to adjust the amp, she captured my attention. Her long legs in shorts were even more revealing than the dress she wore earlier. My eyes followed her all the way to her seat where she nervously looked around the room—possibly searching for me. Before she could find me, I ducked behind the curtain, suddenly needing a moment to get my shit together before the show started.

  While we were talking at the bar, I never got the feeling I needed to impress her, but hell if I didn’t want to. From the second I stood underneath the spotlight, my eyes raked over every seat, just like they always do, but I skipped over her on purpose. Partially so I didn’t screw up the first song, and partially because I need her to crave me. It’s the only chance I have to see her again.

  I screwed up the first song anyway, laughing it off when Dom gave me the look. I never mess up, but when I do, it’s always because of a girl. He knew right away someone had me by the dick.

  After that mistake, we sounded better than we have in a while, probably because we took a much needed night off last night. Playing night after night in the same two places—the lounge and the theater, becomes monotonous. Even though we’re still traveling, it’s not the same as waking up in a different city, filing off a dirty bus, and getting recognized for all the hard work you put into your shows. But that was the chance I took when I gave up touring. Here, it’s easy to hide, and that’s exactly what I was looking for when I took this gig—a chance to breathe. A chance to get my head on straight.

  “You coming for drinks, East?” Dom asks, as he pulls his sweat covered shirt over his head on the way back to the room.

  “I did enough of that last night. My ass is going to bed.”

  He nods his head, understanding the boundaries I now had. After I lost Shay, he would drag me to the bar with him almost every night. I didn’t care because I was already drinking so much at home, I was too numb to care about the world around me. As long as I was breathing, I was fine. At least that’s what I kept telling myself. But when I got to the point of blacking out in order to fall asleep without Shay next to me, it was clear I wasn’t living—I was merely surviving. Had I kept up that pace instead of taking this job, I might be dead by now. That’s how fast I was spiraling.

  “We’ll be at the pub or up in the club if you change your mind.”

  Last night we ended up drinking more than we should have while discussing the future of the band. The guys have been supportive, giving me multiple contracts at sea to take however much time I need before I’m ready to be under the scrutiny of the public eye again. It still terrifies me to go back into that world, especially without the person who grounded me, but I can’t live on a ship for the rest of my life either. They deserve more—I deserve more.

  I won’t know if I can handle the real world until I’m back in it. And that’s a risk I’m cautious to take. By now, I thought I would have had some kind of awakening to know the time was right. Truth is, I’m no more ready now than I was when we got here. Time may heal all wounds, but mine are still pretty raw.

  I still see Shay when I close my eyes at night.

  I still wish she was alive.

  I still miss her.


  But I can’t stay selfish forever either. Accepting another six month contract would be fine, but like the alcohol, I’m using this ship as a crutch. I’m still surviving, but not really living.

  Spending time with Lark today was probably the closest I’ve come to living since I’ve been here. I feel it, but I don’t understand it. If my heart’s still with Shay, how can I suddenly be so enthralled by someone else?

  “Easton? Are you dressed?” Gina pops her head in my room, closing the door to the room she shares with Dom behind her.

  “Why’d you ask if you were going to barge in anyway?”

  “Oh shut up, I’ve seen your jewels before. Is Dominic in the pub for the night?”

  “Yeah, the usual.” She leans against the wall with her hands clasped in front of her. She’s never this quiet. “What’s up?”

  “Can we talk for a minute?”

  “What’s on your mind?” I ask her, as I grab a cold bottle of water out of the fridge, offering one to her before I drink it, but she shakes her head. She’s being weirder than usual, so I’d put money on this conversation being about Lark. She set me up and now she needs the details like a typical woman.

  “Nothing’s up. I thought you might be out drowning yourself in whiskey by now.”

  “Did that last night.”

  “Why not tonight? Do you have plans?”

  She folds her arms over her chest protectively, and I realize this visit is probably to make herself feel better for tossing me into the dating pool. It’s a sympathy visit. “Shower and my bed. That’s about all I have planned.”

  She sits down on the bed and starts picking at her nail polish. When that bores her, she runs her nails over the sheet on the bed. I’m pretty sure she would sit there in silence all night if I let her. Finally, the question I’ve been waiting for is spoken. “Are you going to see your match again?”