Chapter Two
Xander
After stepping into the shadows and removing myself from the stage, I hustled to the office to grab another t-shirt.
I wanted to remain and keep an eye on number seven, but figured I better cover myself and get back out there.
I already know I’m gonna hear shit from the others, no doubt teasing me about making a move on a patron.
Not that I did, and not that I didn’t want to, because damn, that woman is remarkable.
Sexy and tough, yet somehow vulnerable. She certainly handled that jackass who tried grabbing one of the girls, but then she tried to fade into the background.
Yeah, I didn’t mind sacrificing my shirt for her. I certainly wouldn’t mind finding out who she is and if—
“Hey, Xander! Aren’t you on soon?”
My sister’s voice echoes down the hall as I walk toward her where she’s standing outside the entrance to the kitchen.
Dina owns the bar with her husband, Jerald, who MC’d the wet t-shirt contest. And just thinking about that has me conjuring up the woman he called hot momma.
Lucky number seven. Thoughts of her trim body and gorgeous tits along with lean legs I took the liberty of feeling up make my groin tighten all over again.
Yeah, pretty damn ballsy of me putting my hands on her like that when I would’ve slugged anyone else who had tried.
But I couldn’t help wanting to feel what looked like silky skin, and lucky me, I discovered it was the smoothest skin I’d ever felt.
And that tattoo and belly piercing? Fucking sexy!
Sure made my dick take notice at the time.
But it was her eyes that had me captivated.
Playful and soft, yet steely, all rolled into smoky gray orbs I could get lost in.
My lizard brain wanted to take over, ravaging and protecting her all in one fail swoop.
As beautiful and youthful as she looks, she must be around forty, I’d guess.
What the heck was she doing entering that contest?
Not that she didn’t fit the bill, but it’s usually young girls barely out of high school that prance up there, showing off, maybe hoping to score a hot dude.
Shit, a few of them made it clear they’d like to score me.
Yeah, no. I don’t do jailbait, and I definitely don’t do girls young enough they could be my daughter.
And I don’t even have kids! Had a few scares with girlfriends over the years, but that’s a bullet I’m happy to have dodged.
Others’ kids I’m fine with, like my nieces and nephews, and those of my close friends.
But I never considered myself father material, what with traveling and being a free spirit, enjoying life wherever it took me.
Can’t be a father when you’re not around.
Before I get swamped with thoughts from the past, I sidle up to my sis and give her a quick squeeze. She pinches my side making me yelp.
“Jesus, what was that?”
Dina grins up at me. “Love pinches.”
Cheeky little brat is five years younger than me and has always been able to get away with crap like that. I just roll my eyes while she laughs.
“So, what was that up on the stage?” She gives me the side-eye.
I feign ignorance and ask, “What was what?”
Now she rolls her eyes and gives me a little shove before strolling into the kitchen. There she grabs an order that’s ready and breezes past me out toward the few tables set up near the bar. “Making a move on that pretty lady?”
And here it is…
“No,” I say a little too quickly.
Dina chuckles. “Liar.”
“Brat.” Why I continue to follow her while she teases me has me shaking my head. I turn and start to walk toward the stage where my band mates are setting up.
“Hey!”
I turn back toward her.
“She looked like she wouldn’t mind your moves.” Dina winks and saunters off, making the rounds to her patrons.
I chuckle and shake my head again, striding away.
I jog up the stairs to the stage where my group is moving equipment and opening cases for the instruments.
Jerald’s got rock music blaring on the bar’s sound system until we’re ready to go.
While I play guitar, piano, and sing, Rafe’s our drummer and will sing on an occasional song, Holly’s on bass guitar and also sings, and Willie plays guitar and the saxophone.
We’ve been performing together for about seven years, mostly throughout Florida, but we’ve had the fortune to make appearances at out-of-state events with some major headliners.
There’s even a few of our records out on the market.
Well, not physical records because everything seems to be digital nowadays.
We’re an eclectic group, playing a mix of 70s-90s Rock from the Eagles to the Foo Fighters, as well as our own original music. Some would argue whether a few choices are actually categorized as rock, like Robbie Dupree or Melissa Etheridge, but hey, we play what we like.
I’ve been playing music in one form or another since I was twelve while floating from job to job.
I even did four years in the Army when I hit what I thought was a dead end in life at age twenty-five.
I scoff at the memory, having realized years later my problems then were nothing compared to what I had yet to experience. And I’ve experienced a lot.
While trying to make a go at my music, I also worked in construction, personal protection, and various other occupations before this group came together and clicked almost perfectly from the start.
I help out Dina and Jerald more often than not when the band isn’t traveling; especially during the summer, the bar’s peak season, of course.
And I certainly won’t complain about it.
We play here at least two weekends a month, and it gives me time to be around the only family I have left in this world.
“Hey, man, good of you to show up.” Rafe laughs. “Thought you might ditch us after hooking up with that hot momma.”
I groan with mock annoyance as I help him move his drum cases. “Not you too.”
“Oh, me too,” he teases, causing Holly and Willie to laugh. “We all saw you up on that stage. Hell, the whole place did. Not that you’d notice. You only had eyes for that fresh piece—”
“That’s enough.” I ignore more of their banter as I open my own guitar case and start hooking it up, ready to test and tune.
Holly slides close and nudges my shoulder.
She’s nearly as tall as me with rich mocha skin and like a million tiny braids hanging from her head down to her shapely ass.
Her caramel eyes shine as she gives me her mega-watt smile.
“Hey, stud, you know how he is,” she says, referring to Rafe. “Nothing wrong with you taking an interest in a pretty lady.”
I chuckle. “You been comparing notes with Dina?”
“No. Why?”
“Never mind.” After plugging in my guitar, I adjust my amp and strum a few riffs. Rafe and Willie start testing out their instruments, and by the sounds we’re all emitting, you’d never know we sound damn good together.
“So, you gonna make your move? Buy her a drink? Ask her out?”
I halt my movements and stare at my friend. And yes, friend is all she’s ever been. While I think she’s a gorgeous woman and a terrific person, I love her like a sister. She’s sure acting like one when she feels the need to stir me up about what took place on stage earlier.
“Holly, I don’t even know the woman. Didn’t get her name. Didn’t get her number. For all I know she’s married. Or otherwise taken. Or split for the night, and I’ll never see her again.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that, stud.”
Holly chuckles and nods toward the bar. I follow her line of sight and see a group of women gathered at a table near the opposite end of the bar, away from the kitchen.
Lucky number seven is sitting there, still in my t-shirt.
Although she has it gathered in a knot at her side, so it looks less like a dress and more like just an oversized shirt.
I view her profile as she’s facing her friends, talking and smiling.
They all raise whatever they’re drinking, knock glasses, and tip ‘em back. When they finally come up for air, they’re all laughing, and damn, even from my distance, I can see the change in her face, the pure joy in her smile.
“She’s contagious,” Holly says.
“Huh?” I turn to her, confused.
“Never seen you smile bigger.” She winks and steps away, tuning her guitar.
I shake my head and can’t help but chuckle. Returning my attention to my guitar, I still manage a few covert glances to the mysterious hot momma. Yeah, I gotta get her name just so I can stop referring to her as that.
Once we’re ready, I signal to Jerald. More lights come on but remain stationary.
I can’t stand flashing lights across the stage while trying to play and sing, nor do I like them shining directly on me, practically blinding me.
They’re positioned well enough so we’re illuminated but can still see out into the crowd.
But most importantly so we can see our way around the stage should we decide to get mobile. And Holly and I often do.
“Ladies and gentlemen, let’s welcome Delray Beach’s own, The Breakers!”
We open with Crazy on You by Heart, allowing Holly to showcase her fantastic vocals.
From there we play a set that includes Fleetwood Mac, Santana, Journey, a few originals, and even something from Shania Twain.
Throughout the set I continue to look over at the women, managing to snag the gaze of my obsession.
Hey, might as well call it what it is. I’m obsessed with finding out more than just her name.
Her smile is warm and inviting, and as soon as our first set is over, I remove my guitar from my shoulders, weave around tables and patrons, and make my way toward her.
Just as I arrive, her two friends whisper to one another and scramble out of their seats.
Their gazes dart back and forth between me and their friend while rushing away.
“Well, that wasn’t subtle at all,” hot momma says with a laugh.