Encore (The Desire Diaries #3)

Chapter 1

The bass thrummed through my chest.

I shouldn’t have come. I gripped my drink, some rum concoction Jess had shoved into my hand, and tried to focus on anything except the man on stage.

Except Cole Stone made that impossible.

He stood in the spotlight wearing ripped jeans and a white t-shirt that looked like sin. Dark hair curled just enough to make my heart race. His smile was easy and warm, and when he flashed those pearly whites at the crowd, something in my stomach flipped.

I’d felt nothing for the last year. Nothing except the weight of my failed marriage and the animal rescue drowning in debt.

And now this.

“That’s him.” Brynn leaned close. “Cole Stone. I told you. Country music’s newest sensation. He just hit a million followers on TikTok last week. People are driving from all over just to see him.”

I knew. Brynn had been talking about him for weeks.

His voice was rich and raw, as if he’d lived enough to hurt, enough to survive it.

The song shifted. Something slower.

His eyes swept through the crowd.

Found mine.

Stopped.

My breath caught. The moment stretched, suspended. Around us, people drank and laughed, unaware that my entire world had tilted sideways.

Cole’s fingers fumbled with the strings of his bass guitar. Just for a second. But I caught it.

Did I make him mess up?

Me, a woman who hadn’t felt beautiful in years. Who wore dog hair like a second skin? Who’d given up on the idea that someone might want her.

He smiled. Small. Secret. Just for me.

Then looked away.

I remembered how to breathe.

“Did you see that?” Brynn grabbed my arm.

“See what?”

“He looked right at you!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. He was probably looking at someone behind me.” I took a long drink. My hands shook.

“Autumn. I’m serious.”

“Brynn. Let her process.” Jess’s voice cut through, gentle but firm.

I couldn’t process it. My brain had short-circuited somewhere between his smile and the way my body had responded. Heat pooled low in my stomach; my thighs clenched, my skin hypersensitive to every brush of fabric.

I hadn’t felt desire like this… ever, maybe.

The set continued. Forty minutes of watching Cole command the stage, of catching his gaze three more times, of pretending my heart wasn’t trying to escape my chest.

When it ended, when the applause died down and people started filtering toward the bar, I thought maybe I could escape.

“Excuse me?”

A guy in a headset materialized beside our table. Young, eager smile, the kind that suggested he hadn’t learned yet how life was mostly crushing disappointments punctuated by brief moments of dog-related joy.

“Cole was wondering if you’d like to come backstage.”

My heart stopped.

The guy waited, still smiling, and I had three seconds to decide if I was brave enough to say yes.

“Absolutely not.”

Brynn kicked me under the table. Hard.

“Ow! What the…”

“We’d love to come backstage.” Brynn turned her smile on him, bright enough to guide ships to shore.

Headset Guy beamed. “Great! Just follow me.”

He walked away.

I turned to Brynn, channeling every ounce of betrayal into one look. “What are you doing?”

She stood, grabbed her purse. “Saving you from yourself. Come on.”

“He doesn’t want to meet me. He probably wants to meet you. You’re…” I gestured at all of her. “You know. You.”

“Autumn Marie Winters, I watched him stare at you for an entire song like you were the only person in this bar. He forgot the chords. Forgot them.”

“He did not.”

Jess shifted in her seat. “He did. It was obvious.”

“I’m just here for the drama.” Eli followed.

My heart hammered. This was insane. Cole Stone was a gorgeous musician who probably had groupies in every city. I was a broke rescue owner who smelled like a wet dog on good days.

Headset Guy led us down a narrow hallway that reeked of beer, past a bathroom that had seen better decades, to a door with a paper sign reading “GREEN ROOM” in Sharpie.

He knocked.

“Yeah?” Cole’s voice sent heat spiraling through my stomach.

“Got some guests for you.”

“Send them in!”

The green room was the size of a living room. Ratty couch. Cole sat on the couch’s arm, bass propped against the wall, water bottle in hand.

He looked up.

Our eyes met, and his smile spread across his face like the sunrise.

“You came.”

His voice did unfair things to me. Things I hadn’t felt since my early twenties, when I’d still believed in fairy tales.

Brynn stepped forward, hand extended, as if this were a networking event. “I’m Brynn. Huge fan. You’re incredibly talented.”

Cole shook her hand, but his attention slid right back to me. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

Brynn gestured to each of us. “This is Jess, and Eli, and this…”

“Autumn.”

My name in his mouth sounded different. Better. Like he’d been practicing it.

“How did you know?”

“I asked.” He stood, crossing the space in two strides. Up close, he was taller than I’d thought. Broader. His eyes were hazel with flecks of gold. The kind of eyes that got him out of speeding tickets and into beds. “Pointed you out to Rick. Asked who you were.”

“He didn’t know my name.”

“No. But your friend there.” He gestured at Brynn. “She’s been commenting on my Instagram for three months. Rick recognized her, figured you were together. I may have done some light social media stalking.”

Brynn gasped. “You follow me?”

“As of thirty minutes ago, yeah.”

She clutched Jess’s arm. “Oh my God. I’m deceased. This is my ghost talking.”

Cole’s gaze never left mine. “I’m Cole.”

“I know.”

Brynn, Jess, and Eli stepped back, giving us space to talk.

“You know my music?”

“No. Brynn told me.” The truth came out sharper than I meant it to. Defense mechanism. Deflection. The usual.

His smile didn’t falter. “Ouch.”

“I didn’t mean…” I stopped. Regrouped. “I loved your set.”

“But you’d never heard of me before tonight.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Nope.” He took a sip of water. His throat worked in a way that shouldn’t have been attractive. “Actually, it’s refreshing. Most people I meet either want something from me or think they already know me because they’ve listened to my songs.”

“I don’t want anything from you.”

“I noticed.” His eyes crinkled. “You looked like you were about to run when Rick invited you back.”

“I considered it.”

“What stopped you?”

“My friend has a powerful grip and no respect for personal autonomy.”

Cole laughed; the sound filled the room, genuine and warm. Something in my chest squeezed tight.

“I like you.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Not yet, but I’d like to. If that’s okay.”

This was where I should have made an excuse. Thank him. Leave before I embarrass myself.

Instead… “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why me? You had a room full of people out there. Women who are younger, prettier, thinner.”

His voice went firm. Not angry. Just certain. “Stop. Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Put yourself down.”

Heat flooded my face. “I’m not…”

“You are.” He stepped closer. Not invading my space, but close enough that sandalwood wrapped around me, doing devastating things to my ability to form coherent thoughts. “And I’m going to stop you every single time you try it. Deal?”

My breath caught. “You’re confident.”

“I know what I want.”

“And what’s that?”

“To take you to dinner.”

The room fell silent. Even Brynn stopped whispering.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re…” I gestured at him, at all of him, at the unfairness of his face and his voice and the way he looked at me like I was worth looking at. “And I’m…”

“Beautiful?” he supplied.

“Thirty-four with a failed marriage and a struggling animal rescue, and trust issues that could fill a stadium.”

He didn’t flinch. “And I’m twenty-four, so that’s ten years, not fifty. We’re both adults. We both have bills, responsibilities, and questionable life choices in our past. The age thing? It’s just a number.”

“It’s not just a number.”

“Then what is it?”

“A sign that we’re in different places in our lives.”

“Are we?” He tilted his head. “Because from where I’m standing, we’re both working our asses off doing things we love. We’re both stressed about money. We both have friends who care enough to drag us places we don’t want to go. Seems similar to me.”

“You’re a musician about to blow up. I run a rescue that might not exist in a year.”

“So we both have uncertain futures. Still sounds similar.”

I wanted to scream or laugh. Who was I kidding? I wanted to kiss him, which was the worst idea I’d had in years.

Cole pulled out his phone. “One dinner. That’s all I’m asking. If you hate it, if I’m boring, annoying, or not what you’re looking for, we shake hands and go our separate ways. But if you don’t give me a chance, you’ll never know.”

“Know what?”

He gestured between us, at the charged air. “If this is worth exploring.”

“You’re on tour.”

He held out his phone. “I am. But we’re in Asheville for three more days. Then Charlotte for a week, then back here for another show before we leave North Carolina. Give me your number. I’ll text you. You can think about it. No pressure.”

“This is pressure.”

“This is me being clear about what I want. Pressure would be showing up at your work with flowers and a boom box.”

“That’s stalking.”

“Only if it’s unwanted. Is it unwanted, Autumn?” His smile was devastating.

My name again. I was going to have a problem with the way he said my name.

“I don’t date musicians.” My voice came out rough.

“Good thing I’m a person who makes music then.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“It’s really not.”

We stared at each other. The room felt too small, too hot, too full of possibility and danger and all the things I’d sworn off when my marriage ended. Being alone was safer than being hurt.

Brynn glared at me. “Give him your number.”

“Stay out of this.” I didn’t look at her.

“I’m physically incapable of staying out of anything. It’s my fatal flaw. Also, you’re being an idiot.”

“Brynn.”