Chapter 3

ChapterThree

Gunner

“You’re Loretta Shaw’s son?” the pretty little thing asks, her lips forming a perfect O.

No idea why I told her who my mother was. It’s something I avoid telling people because as soon as they know, they’re determined to unravel my whole life. They’re enthralled at gaining access to the private side of someone they’ve listened to on the radio their entire lives. But something about this girl makes me want to impress her and tell her anything to keep her near me.

She smiles wistfully. “She was my grandmother’s favorite. I learned to play the guitar with her songs. Your mother set the soundtrack for my childhood. I bawled my eyes out to ‘Deserted’ when my first boyfriend dumped me. The goal was to have a career like hers.”

I’ve seen a lot of acts that had the chops but didn’t have the luck. It irks me that this little thing believes her two or three years of trying meant she was out of luck. She’s hot enough to snag a record deal. Long black hair, large warm eyes, giant tits that would be the highlight of any boy’s wet dream and, fuck, those curves. She’s full-figured, and her sinful curves draw my eyes like metal to a magnet.

Her looks would be enough to get her on the Billboard 100, but her voice… she sings like an angel. I’ve never heard a voice as smooth as hers. She could compete with the greats, including my mother. Shit, the way she sang ‘Wild Roses’ was something else. The song was a damn weapon when paired with her sultry notes. My cock was so hard that I was concerned I’d burst out of my jeans and get arrested for indecent exposure.

“Yeah, well, she wasn’t a walk in the park,” I say, taking a swig of my beer and locking eyes with hers.

I hate how people talk about my mom as if she’s a saint incapable of doing no wrong. Country music’s little sweetheart. The woman who smiles and says “darlin’” and people let her get away with any damn thing.

She glances away, a pretty pink hue blooming on her skin. What would she look like beneath me, my hand wrapped around her delicate neck? I bet I’d come hard fucking her how I want to fuck a girl. I usually hold back, but the need to put this girl in her place has me reeling.

My gaze travels down her tempting flesh, and I smile, contemplating how pretty her skin would look with my teeth marks decorating it like tattoos. “I didn’t intend to make you blush, darlin’, but damn if it doesn’t look good on you.”

She straightens, giving me a steely glare, her smokey eyes burning and slicing through me like a chef’s knife through butter. I have no idea what’s so different about this girl, but she makes me crave things—depraved things. My life’s fucking complicated, and I suspect she’s about to completely blow it up.

“So, where are you from?” I ask, trying to sound casual.

“New York, but I was born in Alabama. New York has been home for the last five years.”

“You’re far from New York City. How’d you hear about this dive?”

She picks at the beer label on her bottle. Her nails are long and perfectly painted. Will they leave half-moons when she digs them into my skin and begs for me to fuck her senseless? I bet she’s a screamer. If she isn’t, she will be once I have my way with her.

“Picked it out on a map and found a town. Never heard of this place, so I figured it was a good choice. I wanted something small, like where I grew up. I needed something quiet with a slower pace.” She gazes around the bar, taking in her surroundings. “If this is the town’s hot spot, I’m in the right place.”

“My mother ran away too. Ended up here ten years ago, except she was running away from Nashville. I get why she wanted a clean break, but why are you running away? Mommy and Daddy cut you off? Your rich New York City boyfriend bought you the wrong present?”

I said the wrong thing because the sexy little kitten morphs into a predatory tiger. She gets up so fast that her chair barrels over behind her. Her pretty eyes zero in on me, and she glares with pure venom. I smile at her anger. How hot will that fiery anger burn when she’s panting beneath me?

“You know what, buddy? Screw you. You don’t have the first clue about my life. Let’s also not talk about being born with silver spoons in our mouths. I’m sure being the son of Loretta Shaw meant you didn’t want for anything in life. You’re what? Thirty? Her biggest hits were a decade before you were born.” She doesn’t wait for me to answer. She turns around and shows me her ass, making me feel like one.

“Hey, wait up!” I call, chasing after her.

I’m ready to give the spoiled princess a piece of my mind. She doesn’t understand shit about my life or what I’ve been through. Did I grow up with money? Sure, but money doesn’t keep you warm at night and doesn’t mean a fuck when it’s the only thing you’ve got.

I grab her elbow, forcing her to turn and face me. A fierce fire now fuels the eyes that were so soft not too long ago. I’ve seen that fire before in my mother’s eyes when she realized she was everyone’s toy—used and discarded by anyone who claimed to give two shits about her. Forcing her to realize that she’d sacrificed her best years for the record executives and a revolving door of men who made her a commodity and not a real person.

“I’m sorry.” Three words I rarely utter, but I mean them wholeheartedly.

“It’s frustrating when people assume they know me.” Her hard eyes level on me. “You don’t have a clue about me. You have no idea what my life is like. I’m twenty-five years old, and my entire life has been mapped out since I was twelve. You have any concept of what it’s like to be responsible for those who are supposed to take care of you? I’ve been taking care of my family for ten years. Everything I do is for them. It doesn’t matter what I want or what I need. God forbid I try to unwind or do something that lets me escape for thirty minutes. I can’t create, think, or love. I can’t even fuck the way I want. I didn’t come here because my life was too easy. I came here because my life was too fucking hard. And I don’t need you or anyone else telling me who or what I am.”

The longer her monologue continues, the bigger my smile.

“What the fuck are you smiling at? This isn’t funny.”

“No, you’re right, this isn’t funny, but you’re sexy as sin when you’re mad.”

She looks outraged. “Are you hitting on me?”

“We could start with dinner. I’m off tomorrow night. Pick you up at seven. I assume you’re staying at the Holiday Inn.”

“You’re arrogant, you know that?”

Heat radiates between us as I move to stand in front of her. Her breathing increases when I dip my mouth next to her ear. “Not arrogant, darlin’. Confident,” I whisper. “Besides, I’m pretty sure my brand of cocky is something you’ll be screaming for. So how about you give me your name?”

“Cashleigh…but most people call me Cash.”

“Cash isn’t the name I would have chosen for you. A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t have a name that hard.”

She smiles and pushes her body against mine. “Looks can deceive darlin’, especially when this pretty little thing likes it hard.”

“Hard is something I can do better than those pathetic NYC boys you’re used to, darlin’.”