Not The Frontman (The Road To Rocktoberfest 2025 #1)

1. Donavan

Chapter one

Donavan

Since stepping up to fill Harrison’s shoes, I’d managed to fuck up and lose a client, and I’d hardly helped him out with anything else.

I still needed more time to learn the ropes, but there wasn’t any time.

He wanted to spend his time with Wolf, and I understood that.

His lover was hot as sin. The compromise was accompanying him on this tour with Midnight Hunt—at least some of it—to get more tips and training.

I was the first to admit I desperately needed it.

But walking into the dressing room backstage at the arena was an entirely new kind of learning.

Rockers everywhere I looked. Half dressed.

Drinking. Cutting up, goofing off, eating, more drinking.

And it wasn’t only the Midnight Hunt guys; their opening band was also there, and one guy in particular kept looking over at me.

One I was particularly enamored of. Fuck…

he was as gorgeous as ever. Long brown hair with blond streaked through it, framing his face.

He had what looked like a three-day beard and mustache in the same shade.

He wore a leather jacket with no shirt and tight-as-fuck jeans.

That motherfucker had chains for a belt, running through the loops, and a bunch of bracelets on one wrist. Kay Ashford. The lead singer for Bramble Punk.

After a few more furtive glances, he crossed the room. “Hey.”

“H-Hey.” I sounded like a teenage fan. Not good for an entertainment lawyer.

“I’m Kay. I’m with Bramble Punk. We’re opening for the Hunt.” He stuck his hand out. Ooh, Kay the rocker could be polite.

“I know. We met at Rocktoberfest.” I shook his hand, loving the way his calluses rubbed against my skin. I wanted to simply take him in. Despite how many people were shoved into the small room, his distinct cologne with its rich, cedar scent made me want to get closer.

“Oh, sorry. What was your name again?” he asked after I had stood there ogling him for entirely too long.

“I’m Donavan. Donavan Sebert. You can call me Don. I’m Harrison’s brother.” I searched for him throughout the room but didn’t see him. “Wolf’s boyfriend. I’m, uh, also their lawyer.”

“The lawyer brothers. I remember now. I have your card. Wow. You must be incredibly smart.”

I snorted. “Not really.” Part of me was pissed that he didn’t remember me at first. We’d talked and flirted at the festival, but then he never called me, so I might have read too much into things. Whatever .

“You’re being modest. I mean, if the Hunt is using your services, you’re something. They’re pretty savvy, right?”

“Uh, yeah. But I’m new. Harrison is the real brain.”

“Well, if he’s—”

“Don’t. It’s nepotism.” This wasn’t going well.

It had been a lot easier at Rocktoberfest. Of course, that was before Harrison told me he was going to turn the business over to me.

Nothing had seemed easy since then. “Never mind. I’ve been having a hard time of it.

But, uh, I’ll be on the tour with you guys to learn more.

So, tell me about you. How the hell did you come up with that name for your band? Bramble Punk, right?”

Kay smiled, his caramel-brown eyes lighting up. “Not all that much to tell. I like screwy names, but Miami kept calling me a punk during their last tour, so that part came from that. Bramble came from Jinx. That was his idea.”

“Nice. Well, seems like he keeps everything running.”

“He does. He put this band together, actually. These guys are great musicians. To be honest, I’m nervous about playing and singing on such a big stage. Mostly, I’ve played shit clubs, and this is very different.”

That was when Harrison showed up, clapping my shoulder. “Don. Take a walk with me?”

“What the hell, man. I’m in the middle of something here.” I didn’t want to talk to Harrison; I wanted to talk with Kay. That choice was a no-brainer.

“It’ll only take a minute.” He grabbed my arm and yanked.

“Ow. Stop. Fine, I’m coming.” I shot Kay one last look, hoping for something from him. He waved and glared at Harrison, who was being exceedingly rude to both of us.

Out in the hallway, he turned on me, shoving me against the wall like he’d done when we were kids. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Damn, Harri. Stop.” I shoved him back. “I was having a conversation. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be doing?”

“No. You’re supposed to be having conversations, but that’s not what you were doing. You were flirting.”

“I was not. Ease up.”

Harrison paced the hall in front of me. “This doesn’t make me comfortable about you taking over the LA office, man.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. I wasn’t doing this.

“Harri. You either trust me, or you don’t.

That has nothing to do with who the fuck I’m talking to.

Also, if I was flirting, which I wasn’t, but if I was, it wouldn’t be any of your god-damned business.

My personal life is personal. It does not—”

“It does. Fucking clients is not—”

“I knew you’d do this. Don’t throw this shit in my face. We ironed that out. And it won’t happen again.”

“Fine. Then leave Kay Ashford alone.”

I didn’t answer. And maybe I was chicken, but when he went back into the room, I rolled my eyes, and when the door shut behind him, I flipped him off.

With both hands. Because fuck him. He’d been doing this to me my entire life.

He was an overprotective asshole. How the fuck was I ever going to stand on my own two feet with him? Plus, Kay wasn’t a client.

The dressing room door opened, and Kay walked out. “Hey. Did I get you in trouble?”

“No, not really.”

He stood there a minute, letting the energy between us turn awkward. He dug the toe of his combat boots into the baseboard and looked away. “Can I tell you something?”

“Uh, sure.”

“I lied to you. Back there.” He nodded toward the dressing room.

“What do you mean?”

“I remembered exactly who you were before I came over to talk. I remember and relive every moment we spent together at Rocktoberfest, Don. I had such a good time with you.” He snuck a glance at me. “I was pretending to be a cool rockstar. I wanted…hell, I don’t know what I wanted.”

“Don’t pretend with me, Kay. Please, be straight up. I like you.”

“I like you back.” He sounded years younger, and I wondered…no, it was probably more like hope. There was no way Kay was a little, like me. He was only teasing.

I winked at him. “Good. Then after the show, maybe we can hang out?”

“Yes! I’d love that.”

Before the conversation continued, the door opened again, and his bandmates poured out. Dave, the bassist, threw an arm around Kay’s shoulders. “Come on, dude. Heading to the stage. We’re on in ten.”

Kay waved and gave me a closed-mouth smile as he walked away with the rest of Bramble Punk.