Page 13 of Silver Spoon Falls, Vol. I

TEN

ADALYNN

“You met Razor Freaking Montgomery?” Gemma, my youngest sister, whisper-shouts. “And you ran away ?”

“I don’t think that’s his middle name. And I didn’t run away,” I protest, cringing as her voice echoes through the car speakers.

Put that way, it sounds terrible. I didn’t run away.

I made an executive decision to retreat when faced with a horde of screaming teenagers and a ridiculously hot drummer. See? Not the same thing at all.

“You ran away,” Leia, my first sister snorts, sending static crackling through the car speakers.

She’s not buying any of my crap. Then again, she never does.

I think she was born with her BS meter fully functioning.

She can smell a lie a mile away. Between her BS meter and Garrett, our overprotective older brother, Gemma, Heidi, Charlie, and I never get away with anything. “You like him.”

“I don’t even know him,” I splutter, my face heating as I navigate traffic in downtown Silver Spoon Falls on my way to the bar where I work.

I’m already running late, thanks to my jerk of a boss.

But there’s nothing I can do about traffic when he’s the one who scheduled Bent to play tonight.

Well, okay, that's not strictly true. Bender, their lead singer, is a partial owner of the bar.

But blaming Roger is more fun because I actually like Bender.

A little thrill goes up my spine at the thought of seeing Razor, the band’s drummer, again. My stomach trembles with nerves at the same time. The man is seriously hot. His piercing ocean-blue eyes and panty-melting smile had my heart beating double-time.

Thank God he delivered a terrible pick-up line because all I could focus on were the tantalizing peeks of skin showing through the dozens of holes in his shirt.

I’m not sure if he’s fallen on hard times or if he normally dresses like he got in a fight with a bear, but his shirt probably should have retired when his band did.

Oh. Maybe the show tonight is a benefit for him.

Aww. I’ll donate all my tips to him.

“Adalynn!” Charlie, my third sister, cries, “Are you even listening to us?”

“No. She’s daydreaming about doing dirty things to Razor,” Heidi, my second sister, says, laughing wickedly. “I bet he has her bent over a flat surface right now.”

“Shut up,” I mumble, glad this call is voice only and they can’t see how red I am right now. I miss my sisters like crazy, but I’m suddenly grateful they’re scattered all over Texas. Because I haven’t even told them that Bent is playing at the bar tonight. They’re going to lose their minds.

“Why were you at the mall anyway?” Leia asks before I can divulge that detail. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“Don’t ask.” My brows furrow, annoyance channeling through me.

“Well, now you have to tell us,” Heidi says.

“Do I dress like an old lady?”

“What?” Leia growls. “Who told you that?”

“What the heck, Addy?” Gemma says.

“My boss heavily insinuated that I invest in more appropriate work clothes because I dress like an old lady,” I mutter, flipping on the blinker to make a right turn onto Broadway. Traffic is lined up all the way down the street. “He wasn’t very nice about it.”

“First of all, rude,” Charlie says, indignation plain in her voice. “Second of all, he can go kick rocks. Your wardrobe isn’t his concern. Third, you do not dress like any old lady I’ve ever met. You have a killer fashion sense.”

“Does he want your vajayjay hanging out or something?” Leia snarks.

“Probably,” Heidi and Gemma say at the same time.

“Well, you can tell him to shove his sexual harassment up his butt,” Leia says. “Unless he wants to supply everyone at work with a uniform, he doesn’t get to dictate what you, personally, wear.”

“He sounds hideous,” Gemma says.

“I miss Kingston,” I mutter. “He didn’t suck as a boss. Roger sucks as a boss.” Kingston, the former manager, quit a few weeks ago. Bender hired Roger to replace him. He’s a jerk to everyone.

A loud beep sounds, and I glance at my navigation screen, groaning loudly. Speak of the devil.

“I gotta go, sisters. Duty calls.”

“Fine, but we expect details if you talk to Razor again tonight,” Charlie says. “He’s playing at the bar.”

“He’s playing at the bar?”

“How do you know this?” I ask, though I’m not sure why I’m surprised. Charlie is horribly nosy. She can find out anything in record time if she wants to know it badly enough.

“The internet has this nifty site called Google,” she says. “And it’s free!”

Gemma giggles.

“If you aren’t going to stalk him to see why he’s in town and where he’s going to be every day so you can bump into him until he falls in love with you, it’s my duty to do it for you,” Charlie continues. “We need a hot brother-in-law.”

“I’m hanging up now!” I cry.

“Love you!” Heidi says through laughter.

I disconnect and then take a deep breath before answering Roger’s call.

“Where are you?” he snaps as soon as I answer.

Ugh. I should have let the stupid call go to voicemail.

“I’m stuck in traffic five minutes from the bar.”

“Well, hurry up. You’re late, and we’re short-staffed.”

I don’t remind him that he’s the one who practically demanded I wear something other than my normal clothing tonight. I also don’t remind him that he’s the one who scheduled two of our bartenders off when he knew Bent was playing tonight.

I need this job too badly to lose it now. Grad school isn't paying for itself.

“Holy crap,” I whisper, nearly spilling vodka all over myself as the lights dim and the curtain on the stage goes up. Razor’s seated behind his drum-set, looking like a rock god. He ditched his incognito outfit for a t-shirt that clings to his muscular frame and a pair of jeans.

His eyes blaze with command as they sweep the crowd.

I know the moment they land on me. I feel them searing into me, silently demanding that I look at him.

Somehow, I force myself not to obey that order.

I know if I do, it’s over for me. I’ll be sucked under his spell, and that will be that. He’ll own me, body and soul.

That’s the part I didn’t tell my sisters, the truth I kept to myself. When he stood in front of me, introducing himself today, for a minute, he looked into my eyes, and I felt myself being sucked into his orbit. I wanted to be pulled into his field of gravity.

The thought was equal parts terrifying and exhilarating. I know nothing about rockstars and men like Razor Montgomery. I’m a twenty-three-year-old curvy virgin. I pour drinks at night and study archeology by day. But when he looked into my eyes, the world shifted beneath my feet.

I fled because I knew, if I hadn’t, I would have let him talk me into giving him my name and then my number. I would have gone out with him. Slept with him. And then… and then, eventually, he’d go back to his life, and I’d have to go back to mine. Alone.

I don’t think I’d like being alone after having had him for a short time. I get attached easily. It happens when you grow up in foster care like I did. And Razor Montgomery would be far too easy to get attached to. There’s something about him that just feels right.

There’s a compelling magnetism about him that has nothing to do with his fame or status. It’s all him, powerful and potent.

I slide the vodka across the bar to the woman waiting for it and risk another glance up on stage. Pen Rocha’s standing between me and Razor, blocking my view of him.

Maybe he didn’t recognize me. My brows furrow and I’m not sure if I’m relieved by the thought or sad about it. Did he feel the same pull I did today? The same inexplicable connection?

Before I can figure it out, a man leans across the bar.

“I need two tequila sunrises,” he says. “And a Long Island iced tea.”

I throw myself into making his drinks, trying to force thoughts of Razor out of my mind. It’s all but impossible when he’s yards away. But somehow, I manage to focus on the drinks in front of me as the line at the bar grows four deep on each side.

The band counts off and begins to play. Razor is incredible behind the drums. I find my gaze drawn to him again and again as I mix drinks and take orders, trying to keep up with the rush.

He’s fascinating to watch, playing with masterful skill as he flips his sticks and pounds out the rhythm, throwing his entire body into the performance.

He and his bandmates interact with playful camaraderie, making it obvious that they share a deep, abiding love between them.

They aren’t just a group of people who play in a band. They’re friends… family.

The crowd is energized and having a blast.

“I’d like to dedicate this final song to the love of my life,” Bender says into the microphone. “London, thank you for teaching me what it means to truly live.”

The crowd awws before the band launches into a love ballad. My gaze drifts to Razor, only to find him watching me, his piercing stare intense. I get sucked into his gaze, and everyone else in the bar disappears. I don’t know how long we stare at each other. Forever, it feels like.

But as the final strains of the song end, I feel a familiar prickling on the back of my neck.

I turn to peer over my shoulder but don’t see anyone.

It’s strange. More and more over the last week, I’ve felt like someone is watching me, but no one is ever there.

It happens at work, at home, and at random moments around town.

I’ve started leaving all the blinds closed at home. I think I’m becoming paranoid.

I shake the unsettling feeling off and turn back to the stage just in time to see Razor toss his sticks and jump from the stage. He wades through the crowd toward me. My heart pounds like… well, like drums against my breastbone, beating wildly.

“You ran away from me today,” he growls, his gaze climbing all over me when he finally reaches the bar. “I’m mad as hell, pretty baby.”

“I didn’t…” The protest dies in my throat when he cocks a brow. “I was nervous,” I whisper instead of finishing the lie.

“Because of the crowd?”

“Because of you.” The truth pops out before I can call it back. My cheeks heat.

Razor grins at me, reaching across the bar to touch the side of my face. Electric sparks dance from his skin to mine, sinking bone deep. “You’ve got nothing to be nervous about. We’re going to be intimately acquainted.”

“We are?” I frown at him.

“Oh, yeah.” His gaze settles on my lips, his ocean eyes turning dark and stormy. “Heard somewhere that you should always know everything about the woman you’re going to marry.”

“I…” I gape at him, pretty sure he’s lost his mind.

“We have a problem.” He grimaces. “Several, actually.”

“We do?”

Maybe losing his mind isn’t a recent development? Poor Razor. I bet the stress of being famous cracked him like an egg. It has to be hard to have the whole world screaming your name all the time.

“Maybe you should sit down,” I suggest. “I can get you something to drink. Or water. Maybe water would be best.”

“I don’t want a fucking drink,” he growls. “I want to know what name I should be groaning when I’m fucking my hand tonight, pretty baby.”

“Adalynn,” I blurt, and then immediately slap a hand over my mouth. I can’t believe I just told him that!

“Adalynn,” he repeats. Only, he makes my name sound sinful. “Fuck, that’s sexy.”

“My adopted mom named me,” I murmur. She wanted to give me and my sisters a fresh start, without the shadows of the past hanging over us. Our old names never fit us, but the ones she picked do.

“You’re adopted, baby?”

“Since I was ten,” I say, fidgeting when I feel someone staring at me again.

I cast another glance over my shoulder, scanning the bar.

There are people everywhere, dozens of them staring at Razor and me in avid interest. But they all discreetly glance away as if embarrassed to be caught staring.

None of them feels… off, not like the creepy feeling I get at random moments for no reason.

“What’s wrong?” Razor asks.

“Nothing,” I mumble, brushing off the feeling.

“Bullshit,” he growls. “Tell me.”

“It’s nothing. I just thought…” I shake my head. “I think I’m losing my mind, is all.”

“You thought someone was watching you, didn’t you?”

I blink wide eyes at him. “How did you know that?”

“That’s one of our other problems.” He purses his lips, his eyes growing dark.

“I approached you for two reasons at the mall today. One, because you’re fucking beautiful, and you’re mine.

Two, because some goddamn creep was hiding behind a clothing rack, watching you.

I was trying to tell you that when the goddamn teenagers descended and you ran off.

” He shoots me a severe look. “I lost him in the crowd, too.”

“Someone was watching me?” My stomach sinks. “Are you sure? Maybe they were just…” I trail off, searching for an explanation, but I draw a blank. I’ve only been in town for two months. I don’t know anyone here aside from my brother and my coworkers.

“Has it happened before, pretty baby?” Razor asks.

“I don’t know.” I swallow hard, overwhelmed. “Maybe.”

His eyes narrow, a warning growl rumbling in his throat. “How often?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I feel like someone has been watching me all week. I just thought I was being paranoid. Are you sure you saw someone? Maybe they were just…” I trail off again, searching for an explanation that won’t come.

“Did you get a look at him? Her?” I press my hands to my cheeks. I feel like I’m spiraling. “Them?”

“It was a man, Adalynn. Didn’t get a look at his face. He was dressed in a hoodie with sunglasses over his face. Maybe five-eleven, broad shoulders. Had douche written all over him,” he growls, his voice dark with menace.

“I feel like I'm going to be sick.”

“Hey.” He snags my hand, reeling me in until I’m pressed up against the bar, leaning halfway over it.

His ocean eyes bore into mine, his minty breath wafting across my face.

Lord, he’s intense. And, somehow, even hotter up close and personal like this.

“We’ve got this, pretty baby. I’m not letting you out of my sight again.

We’ll find him, deal with it, and then we can get back to what’s important. ”

“Wh-what’s important?” I ask, licking my lips.

“Yeah,” he rumbles. “What’s important. Me and you.”

“I lied. I’m not going to be sick. I think I’m going to faint.”