4. Zayden

Chapter four

Zayden

There's no fucking way I could be this lucky. Of all the small towns in the world, and I walk into the same one that happens to have my mysterious stranger? When I saw him on the dance floor I thought I was hallucinating. All the stress from the week has caught up with me and has caused me to become delusional.

To say this week has been a stressful one is an understatement. Leslie Thomas, our band manager and all around asshole, has been hounding the band, asking for Olly's whereabouts. There's no way in hell any of us are giving up his location.

For the first time in years my brother is happy.

After Olly's last episode where the paparazzi took photos of him having a panic attack, he decided to finally get some help. I'm so fucking proud of him. Telling our story was only part of it. Olly found a therapist in Northern California who specializes in PTSD. Deciding to spend some time with our Aunt Tessy in Foggy Basin, Olly has been able to focus on himself, and in the process has met someone he's starting to fall for.

Leslie doesn't need to know where my brother is. He isn't violating his contract. We finished up our Spring tour, only canceled a few shows from the Fall tour, and the rest of the band is working on our next album. Not to mention, Olly is currently staying out of any negative media. As far as Leslie is concerned we are doing our damn job.

Taking a deep breath and shrugging off thoughts of Leslie, I continue to walk across the patio to an empty table in the back. It's tucked in the corner and away from others. The sound of the crashing waves is louder here, and for some reason it settles my nerves.

Cater lets go of my hand first, and I already miss his warmth. I slide into my seat first, and the handsome man slides into his across from me. We're silent for a moment, just staring at each other. He's breathtaking, and looks more comfortable in his dark jeans and button up shirt than he did in our band tee. His hair is styled into a trendy comb over rather than that faux bedhead look I saw him in all those months ago.

Like this, he looks like a hot businessman that screams dominance. I almost didn't recognize him, but once I did, I couldn't keep my hands to myself.

After another awkward moment, he finally breaks the silence. "What are you doing here?"

My lips twitch. "Well," I wave my hand in his direction. "Trying to chat with a handsome man. What are you doing here?"

"No, I meant what are you doing here in this small beach town, and in this club."

I'm half tempted to flirt and tease him some more, but I get the impression he'll just bolt again. "My little brother lives in this town. So does my best friend," I admit.

His eyes widen and he opens his mouth to say something, but I hold up my hand, stopping him. "I answered one of your questions. Now, answer mine. What's your name?" And why are you withholding it from me?

The handsome stranger chews on his bottom lip. I'm tempted to lean across the table and tug it free before he abuses the poor thing.

"Okay." He lets out a deep breath. "There's something I need to confess. But first, I think I need a drink."

I narrow my eyes. What on earth does he possibly have to confess. Have we slept together before? I study his sharp jaw, and striking eyes. No. I'd never forget a man like this. "Alright," I say slowly. "I'll grab us some drinks. You'll stay here, right? I won't come back to find a glass slipper, now. Will I?"

He bursts into laughter, the corners of his eyes forming these sexy creases. He looks even more attractive when he smiles.

"I'll wait."

I narrow my eyes playfully.

He laughs again. "I promise." He places a hand over his heart. The light hearted attitude paired with that smile has butterflies forming in my stomach. For some reason, I get the impression that I'm in so much trouble with this handsome stranger.

"Want a beer? Or do you think you need something harder? Maybe a shot?"

"A beer sounds great."

By the time I make it back to our table, beers in hand, my handsome stranger looks nervous. He rubs his hands on his pants. I slide back into my seat and hand him the beer. He casually brings it up to his lips, but I don't miss the tremble.

"Did I say something to make you uncomfortable?" I blurt. For the life of me I can't imagine why he'd be having this reaction. This type of reaction isn't one usually shared between strangers.

He chuckles nervously. "Actually, yeah. There is something you said that made me nervous back in October."

My mind races. What could I have possibly said? He was happy when we were chatting, and he seemed to love my performance. Hell, the last thing I remembered before his eyes grew wide in shock was me singing—

"It wasn't what you said, but what you sang. ‘ Oceans apart and dreams away. We've never met, yet, somehow you know me.' Those are the exact words that made me nervous."

My mouth falls open on a gasp, and the sound of my heart pounding echoes wildly in my chest. I jerk forward in my seat, almost knocking over my beer in the process. Is he saying what I think he's saying?

There's no fucking way. "What's your name?" I whisper.

"Oh sweetheart, you know my name." He parrots my words back to me with a shy smile.

I just blink in shock. My heart is still pounding wildly. Fuck, I feel like I'm getting light headed. I study the man in front of me carefully. I take in his beautiful blue eyes, the dark brown hair that's so dark it's almost black. I notice the gray strands that make me think he'll be a sexy-as-fuck silver fox in ten to fifteen years.

He's even more handsome than I could have hoped for.

He takes my silence as a negative thing and stands. I immediately jump to my feet, still too stunned to speak. I try to but I'm speechless.

His face turns a bright red. "I'm so sorry. This was so stupid. I'll leave you—"

No. He can't leave not again. Without thinking, I throw my arms around his shoulders and neck, hugging him close to me. We are about the same height, but he's wider, broader, and his soft stomach is warm against my abs.

"Carter?" I whisper in a tone so soft, I'm afraid his name will be carried away on the wind.

His strong arms slide around me, and he pulls me tighter against his body. Carter nods. "Yeah, Zee. It's me."

I think I'm still in shock, because the hug last longer than appropriate. Carter sighs in relief and nuzzles against my neck. His stubble scrapes against my throat and I have to bite back a moan. Images of us grinding on the dance floor enters my mind and suddenly I'm hard again. Luckily Carter pulls away before I can embarrass myself.

"You're not leaving, are you?" Oh god, do I sound whiny? I just got Carter back in my life. I don't want him to run. Not again. I want to spend the night seeing if we are as compatible in person as we are online. My stupid, foolish heart already says that we are, but I'm greedy for his attention.

"I'll stay if you want me to." He smiles and caresses my jaw. My heart flutters. That's definitely more than a friendly gesture. Is it possible that Carter has developed feelings for me over the last several years too?

"Of course I want you to stay." I tug on his hand and lead him back to the table. He slides back into his seat, and I slide right in next to him, rather than my original spot. He arches a brow—and damn, why is that so sexy?

"So you can't pull your whole Cinderella act and runaway on me." I want to ask him why he did it, but it might be too heavy too soon.

"You never answered my other question. Why are you here at the club?"

"Beckett, our bass player got a lead that one of the tribute bands has an amazing rhythm guitarist. Someone worth considering."

Carter's eyes widen. "So, Olly's quitting?"

A blow out a deep breath and nod. "Yeah. No one but the band knows. Not even Leslie."

"Leslie? Isn't that your manager that's giving you a hard time?"

"Yup. The one and only." Warmth spreads through my chest. Looks like he remembers little details about my life as well.

"Manager. Huh. That makes so much more sense. Especially now that I know you're in a band."

I reach for his hand and give it a squeeze. "I want you to know that everything we've talked about through emails or messenger were one hundred percent sincere. I've only been vague to protect my brother and bandmates." My eyes widen. "I mean, of course I trust you. Always have, I just meant—"

Carter places a finger over my mouth to hush me. "I know what you meant, Zee."

My lips curl into a flirty smirk. "I like that you called me Zee. Only my family and bandmates call me Zee."

The muffled sound of the next band is being announced inside. I recognize the name and realize this is the band that Beckett wanted me to listen to.

The opening guitar riff of AC/DC's Thunderstruck can be heard. Glancing over at Carter, I grin. "Isn't this one of your favorites?"

He blushes, and fuck, he's even hot when he blushes. "You remembered?"

I don't bother answering him, because if I did, I'd say something cheesy like, I remember everything about you.

Carter starts bobbing his head, as if unable to stop himself from enjoying the music.

"Let's spend the rest of the night dancing together," I blurt, probably a little too eagerly. "We can spend time together while I check out the guitarist."

The sultry look on Carter's face makes me so damn curious where his mind just went.

"You know what? That sounds fun. Let's dance. Just remember, I'm not as young as you," he jokes as he nudges me out of the booth.

As I stand up, a memory pops up in my head. Carter's ex used to tease him about his age. Then he would blame Carter's age for their differences whenever they fought. I know, because Carter would message me venting about his asshole ex. Carter might have been joking just now, but it's also a sore subject. I'll do anything in my power to erase those toxic thoughts and boost Carter's self esteem.

I reach out for Carter's hand and place a seductive kiss on his knuckles. "You joke, but with the way you played my body on the dance floor earlier, tells me that you're the right age for me."

We make our way toward the club's door, but at the last moment Carter tugs me into the shadows and crowds me against the wall. I grin, placing my hands on his hips and yanking him closer.

His breath mingles with mine and I'm suddenly aware of every part of his body that presses against me.

"You liked the way I played your body in there, Zee?"

I shiver at his rumbling tone and nod. God, I liked it so much.

Carter's thumb caresses my bottom lip, his hungry gaze following the movement. "Can I kiss you, Zayden?"

My lips part and Carter continues to run the pad of his thumb over the sensitive flesh. Electric jolts of lust pulse through my body. I nod desperately.

His gaze darkens. "Say it. Tell me you want me to kiss you. I need to know you want me. Not some random person you were dancing with in the club, not some groupie, or supermodel. Just me. Carter Leeland."

"Carter," I whisper. "I've wanted no one but you for years." Only I will know how true those words are.

Carter groans, and crashes his lips to mine. I part my lips and his tongue sweeps against mine. We both pull and tug and grind at each other frantically. Never in my life have I experienced a kiss like this. This isn't just sexual need, this is desperate and emotional. Meaningful.

He pulls me even closer, but it's as if I'm not close enough. I want more. Vaguely, I hear someone walk past us and back into the club, but I don't bother looking up. I'm lost in this kiss. Lost in Carter and his intoxicating scent; hints of lemon, rum, and vanilla.

I suck on his tongue and he moans against my lips. Damn. He feels so good. Soft and hard in all the right places. Carter deepens the kiss by tilting my head. His erection presses against mine and my knees almost give out.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Carter. Carter, we need to stop. Unless you want me to come in my pants."

Carter smirks, but pulls away with one last kiss to my lips.

"Wow," I say, completely lust drunk. "That was better than in my dreams."

He chuckles, low and husky. "Is that so? And how often do you dream of me, Zee?"

"Every damn night." Fuck. So much for not saying anything cheesy.