And if I wasn’t careful, I was pretty sure I could get just as obsessed with Braden Worthington as everyone else here seemed to be. He was gorgeous, effortless, and incredibly talented. And if I admitted it to myself, he affected me in a way no other guy ever had. While he had definitely tried to pursue me when I’d first started working at the restaurant with him, I’d been sound in my resolve to not be pulled in. I had put him on my mental list of guys I’d never get involved with almost immediately upon meeting him. I had decided that he had some obvious commitment issues when I realized that he was never with any girl longer than a couple of weeks. In fact, it was mind-boggling the amount of women that I saw going in and out of his and Liam’s apartment.
The sun had finally gone completely down and the breeze coming off of the sound was providing some much-needed relief. The band had just finished a loud pop/rock-type song and had transitioned into a slower one. When I glanced around I saw what looked like thousands of people on the lawn of the large outdoor pavilion. I was standing a few feet from the stage with Bree and a slew of other females. The difference between Bree and myself, and the other girls, was that while they were screaming Braden’s name and reaching toward him in an attempt to get him to touch their hands, we weren’t.
Though I’d probably be doing the same thing if I didn’t know I could easily touch Braden whenever I wanted.
Well, I could… but I wouldn’t.
So far I’d done a good job of deflecting his advances. But, man had it been tough. My resolve to not allow myself to be one of his many hookups was the only thing that kept me from giving in to him. I wanted way more than that from any guy and I was pretty sure Braden didn’t want more than that from
any
girl. Braden was too much of a player to ever consider getting involved with. I was strictly a monogamous kind of girl and that word was
not
in Braden’s vocabulary. Unfortunately, my body didn’t know what my brain had decided, because every time he came near me, my heart raced and my stomach did traitorous flip-flops. Sometimes it was a struggle to maintain my unaffected air with him, but I knew if he thought for a minute that I wanted him, he wouldn’t stop pursuing me until we did something I’d regret.
There’d been several waitresses since I’d started working at the restaurant who had quit simply because they’d gotten involved with Braden and couldn’t handle it when he moved on —and he always did. And that didn’t even account for all the groupies he probably hooked up with. Braden never had a lack of girls surrounding him and that was exactly the kind of guy I avoided at all costs.
* * *
Braden’s voice drew my attention back to the stage and I looked up, freezing when I saw Braden’s eyes on me, singing with a rawness that was captivating.
And surprisingly it was a song about unrequited love.
Whoa.
I was stunned. So, maybe there
was
some girl out there who’d held his heart at one time. And apparently not returned his feelings... at all. He put the kind of passion into his music that was hypnotizing. By the end of the song, I was hurting right along with him. I guess that’s why his singing career was taking off —he had the ability to make you feel what he was feeling just by using his voice. I was starting to see that there might be a lot more to Braden than met the eye. I’d always had him pegged as a guy who didn’t let his emotions get involved with women. Maybe there was a sensitive Braden in there somewhere, but I’d sure as heck never seen it. With the exception of his music.
And boy, did he have a way of making a girl feel like he was singing to her alone.
Because if I hadn’t known better, with the way his eyes kept returning to mine, I’d have thought he was singing directly to me.
He was good.
Very good
.
This was the type of song that had a way of consuming you and evoking the same emotions that he was singing about. And this particular song, with Braden’s voice swallowing me whole, and then his eyes meeting mine at the most intense moments...
wow
. He was killing me slowly... with want and need, and a whole lot of other emotions I didn’t even want to confront.
It was then and there that I realized I was probably completely failing. The way I was feeling right that minute, staring into his green eyes while he sang with such intensity and passion, made that pretty apparent. Falling for him might not be a choice, but an inevitability —whether I wanted to or not. The entire past year I had done so well at keeping things strictly friendly, I’d thought —but tonight, I couldn’t seem to lie to myself about my feelings anymore.
And there was no way in hell I could let him realize it —or I was doomed to heartbreak, for sure.
I watched as he owned the stage and easily held every person in the crowd in the same viselike hold he had me in at that moment.
I looked around to see people screaming and reaching for him and tears running down faces.
For a guy that seemed to not give a damn, he really laid himself wide open onstage. His emotions were raw and intense and that paired with the incredible band behind him; yeah, their record would be epic.
I looked back to Braden onstage and his vibrant eyes met mine at the climax of the song and it was if he was singing the words directly
to
me. I couldn’t have torn my eyes away from his if I’d tried.
Oh crap
. He was going to see it —how much I wanted him, maybe even needed him. His eyes lit up just enough for me to know that he could see the effect he was having on me. He probably saw in my eyes everything I’d been trying to hide for the past year.
And if he did…then I was in trouble.
Why did I have to stand just feet away from him? Why couldn’t it be dark so he couldn’t see my face?
And now that he’d seen, he would be relentless in his pursuit. That much was a given. I’d seen him do it before and then move on to the next girl without missing a beat. I was convinced he just wanted me because I was the one person who had denied him.
And that scared the hell out of me.
Because deep down I knew
he
was the one person who had the power to tear my heart to shreds.
That fear had me dragging my eyes from his and whirling around, my long blonde hair whipping around me, the sound of his husky voice following me as I turned and took off, weaving in and out of people as if my life depended on it.
I broke out of the crowd and made for the bathroom as fast as I could with
out actually running. When I entered the cement bathroom lined with stalls that had been written on until you could barely see the paint color, I shut myself in one, gasping as I fought back the tears that I knew were going to be fierce if I let them take over. I reached up and touched a cheek, cursing when I realized my face was already wet with tears.
Tears of shock at realizing just how badly I had been in denial about my feelings for Braden. Tears of anger that I had let myself fall for him after fighting it for a year, and frustration that he might have figured it out.
Oh, he knew alright; he’d seen it all over my face.
I was usually an expert at not letting my feelings get too involved with any guy. But, evidently, once they did become involved, I wasn’t very good at hiding them.
* * *
After taking a good ten minutes to compose myself, I freshened my makeup and ran my hands through my hair, trying to tame the waves caused by the thick Carolina heat. My cheeks were pink from the sun beating down on us earlier and the rest of my skin was tanned a light golden —one of the many reasons I loved living at the beach. I spent the majority of my spare time by the ocean. Watching and listening to the waves crash had a way of centering me and recharging me like nothing else did. It was my safe haven from the world and a place to clear my mind.
Finally satisfied that I no longer looked like I had been crying for twenty minutes, I made my way out into the crowd to hunt down Bree. I caught sight of her red hair at the side of the stage. The concert had ended and people were still everywhere. I was sure it would be a while before this large crowd would disperse. There were way too many drunk people having a good time.
Bree was waving me over and I picked up pace, striding over to the side of the stage where she stood with some of the pavilion staff.
When I walked up, I saw that Bree was chatting easily with a huge security guard in a bright yellow shirt with the word Security in black block letters across the back. I constantly marveled at the way Bree could walk up and talk to almost anyone with a smoothness that made it seem like she had known them for years. She could engage anyone, and I mean anyone, in a conversation and would have them chatting easily, like old chums, within minutes of meeting. She just had that kind of personality. And with Bree’s berry-colored mass of long curls, olive skin, and huge almond-shaped hazel eyes, she had the kind of looks that caught most everyone’s attention. Even her hair, obviously professionally colored with it’s almost purplish-red hue, fit her perfectly and curled beautifully down her back, setting off her perfect tan. Between her outgoing, bubbly personality and her striking looks, Bree Howard was one force to be reckoned with.
Me, I was pretty much the exact opposite. My hair was long, light blonde, and silky thin. And it
never
seemed to do what I wanted it to. It was wavy when I wanted it to be straight, and then couldn’t seem to hold a curl when I attempted use a curling iron to emulate Bree’s gorgeous mass of curls. Bree was the only person I knew besides my hair
dresser who could ever get it to do anything extraordinary. She was an absolute pro with a curling or flat iron. I shook my head at how, even when she’d been trying to wear her hair straight, it had fought it’s way back into flawless spirals. Sickening, really.
She was eyeing me now with that all too familiar sparkle in her eye. I groaned inwardly. She was
so
not ready to go home yet. Bree grabbed my hand. “Come on, Pres!” She had a habit of shortening my name that drove my mother absolutely batty. Contrary to popular belief, I was not named after Elvis Presley or Tanya Tucker’s daughter, but after a long line of males named Preston on my father’s side of the family. When it turned out that I was not the much anticipated male my parents had been expecting, they named me Presley instead.
Bree gave my arm an excited tug. “Let’s slip backstage and see what the guys are doing later.”
I rolled my eyes good-naturedly. Bree was a total party girl. She was like the energizer bunny when it came to socializing. I was the complete opposite, preferring to be home in my comfy clothes, just hanging out. And l had pretty much met my limit of partying for the night. I was exhausted emotionally from confronting the feelings Braden had unknowingly stirred in me earlier, and I didn’t think I had it in me to pretend I didn’t want Braden if I was around him tonight. And he’d read me way too well earlier.
Way too well
. Which, knowing Braden, meant he might try to play on those feelings. And as strongly as I was feeling them right now, I’d probably let him. And then hate myself later.
Bree didn’t give me a chance to respond before she was dragging me behind her as she made her way backstage. We pushed through the packs of girls that had somehow slipped past security or sweet-talked their way back. I was really impressed with the band’s cult-like fan following. If it was like this now, I could only imagine what it’d be like once their album officially dropped and they started really touring.
I took a deep breath trying to push back the forlorn feeling that was trying it’s best to sneak into my chest at the thought of Braden leaving and forgetting all about me.
I was so torn. I wanted him —but I didn’t want to want him.
Why couldn’t things be easier than this?
Sometimes, I
really
wished I could be more like Bree. She just jumped into things full force, and to hell with the consequences. She’d grown up the much-doted-on only child of a veterinarian and a stay-at-home mom and it showed in her bubbly, carefree personality. Me? I had been raised by my single mother, who had ingrained distrust for men in me from the very beginning. My executive father had left her when I was just a toddler for his young secretary and my mother had never really gotten over it. So, by my very nature, I was guarded. And then the fact that my first experience with a real relationship had ended sourly further increased my tendency to be guarded.