Ask Me Later: a short story prequel to No Commitment Read online

  Tyler laughs, and then he lets go of my shoulder and holds a hand over his heart. “Maybe, she says. Maybe. It’s the first maybe you’ve ever given me, and it feels a hell of a lot better than a rejection.”

  “Reject him!” Tommy yells gleefully. “The asshole has it coming!”

  Everyone laughs, and I love the vibe between these four guys. They seem like they genuinely have a good time together, and I already know that Tyler is a good guy...or, at least he used to be a good guy back when I knew him. I’m sure a lot has changed since he hit the big time.

  Christine turns her attention to Tommy. “Do you have a date for the after party?” she asks, and I feel mortified for her at how desperate she sounds.

  He raises a brow. “I haven’t decided just yet.” His eyes sweep along her form. “But I could probably be persuaded.”

  “All right, Christine, we’ve got work to do,” I say, and she shoots me a look that says to step the hell off. But I can’t. I’m her boss tonight, and I’m very familiar with the responsibilities of her job, so she needs to get her ass moving.

  And I do, too.

  I’m not sure how long Patrick usually stays after a show, but maybe if he gets the squirrel out, he can get here before the it’s over and take care of the post-show stuff.

  Pinning all my hopes for tonight on a squirrel just isn’t how I thought this day was going to go when I woke up this morning.

  I send Christine off to manage the ushers, but I stay with the band.

  “Your meet and greet starts in twenty minutes. Can I get you anything before then?” I ask.

  “I’ll take a yes on the after party,” Tyler says. He glances over at Tommy. “We’re good for the next fifteen, right?”

  Tommy nods, and Tyler walks over to me. “They don’t need anything,” he says, and he ushers me by the elbow out to the hallway.

  “What are we doing?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “I don’t know. I just wanted to talk to you without the rest of them staring at us.”

  I laugh. “But I have to work!” It’s a weak protest.

  “Isn’t part of your job providing hospitality to the band?”

  I lift a shoulder as I concede his point. I don’t actually want to resist whatever it is he’s offering. “Yeah.”

  “Then show me around,” he says. “I like taking tours at the venues we play. Let me see your office.”

  “My office?” I ask, and I automatically start walking that way because he’s right. If he’s asking to see my office, I’m obligated to show him since my job is to keep the band happy.

  “Don’t you think someone’s office says a lot about them?” he asks as he falls into step beside me.

  I shrug. “Do you have an office?” I ask, and I chance a glance over at his profile.

  Wow.

  He’s freaking gorgeous.

  A little too much hot stubble, thick hair, those green eyes, a firm jawline, lips that look entirely too kissable...

  I sigh.

  He nods. “At home, yeah. And I guess you could say my bunk on the bus is sort of my office on the road.”

  “What’s in your bunk?” I ask, and my cheeks turn red as I realize I’m asking him about his bed.

  He leans in a little closer to me and lowers his voice to a sexy rasp. “Maybe later I can show you.”

  Oh jeez. I have no idea what I’m getting myself into here. A guy who looks like he does and tours the country with his band to sold out stadiums could certainly have any pick of women...and tonight, his pick is me. I’m not sure whether to feel flattered or insulted, but I know one thing I’m feeling: Horny.

  We get to my office, which is just a few turns down the maze of hallways away from his dressing room. I open the door and motion for him to go first, and he walks around the small room as he looks at every detail.

  A huge canvas print hangs on one wall of Russ, the Jack Russell Nate ended up with.

  A mirror hangs on another wall, mostly because the decorative frame was so pretty I just couldn’t pass it up.

  A large aerial view poster of the Venice beach and boardwalk hangs on another wall, which is something I look at all the time when I need a minute to take a deep breath and reset—usually after I’ve had to deal with Christine. Tyler walks over to the poster and studies it for a beat.

  He points to a small restaurant in the photo. “This is Carne’s newest location now. Did you know that?”

  My lips tip up with a smile. “No, I didn’t. I haven’t been to Venice in...oh, probably three or four years now.”

  “Have you been back to California?”

  I nod. “Occasionally to visit my family. My parents and sister are still there. Do you spend much time there?”

  He lifts a shoulder. “When we’re not on the road, yeah. I actually have a place in Los Angeles.”

  “Of course you do,” I murmur.

  He raises a brow as if to ask what that’s supposed to mean.

  “I suppose it’s right in the heart of things?”

  He nods. “Naturally.”

  “And you’re not even there to enjoy it.”

  I lean on the edge of my desk while he continues to walk around my office like he basically owns it, and he chuckles. “I’d estimate I sleep there at least a third of the time.”

  “Where do you sleep the other two-thirds?” I blush as the words leave my mouth since I’m asking about his bed once again.

  “The tour bus, hotels...” He seems to trail off as he paces around, and I can’t help but wonder how often he spends the night at some conquest’s house. It’s not my business.

  He stops a few inches from me, and his eyes burn into me. “Maybe your place here in Milwaukee,” he finishes.

  My heart leaps up into my throat. I open my mouth to say something, but I don’t have the words just yet.

  His eyes flick down to my lips as he smiles. “I love that look of shock on your face every time I throw a line at you. I don’t know if I’ll ever get tired of it.”

  So was he just kidding, then? I laugh a little awkwardly because I’m not really sure.

  “I can’t help but wonder...” he says, trailing off again. He takes another step toward me. I shift back a little so I’m actually sitting on the desk now rather than just leaning against it, but I’m out of room to back up any further.

  He closes the last gap between us as he moves to stand between my legs, and a fierce ache presses there as my body reacts to him.

  “You can’t help but wonder what?” I ask softly, my voice nearly a moan.

  “How shocked you’d be if I kissed you,” he says.

  “Why don’t you give it a try?”

  His eyes are on my lips, and my breathing seems to get a little heavier.

  I’m transported back ten years. I was only sixteen, and I hadn’t gotten my license yet. He offered to drive me home, but my parents were on their way to pick me up after my shift at Carne’s. Tyler was done with his shift, too, and he sat out back with me as we waited for my ride.

  He tried to kiss me.

  I pushed him away.

  I was an idiot.

  I won’t be pushing him away this time.

  He lowers his head like he’s going to do it, and then a phone jingles. “Fuck,” he whispers, and his mouth is so close to mine that I feel the heat of his breath at his quiet curse. “That’ll be Tommy telling me it’s time.”

  “Time?” I ask, and then my sensibilities seem to return. “Oh! Time for the meet and greet! The one I’m supposed to be managing for you!”

  He laughs as I scramble to get off my desk and compose myself, a nearly impossible task now that he’s gotten me all worked up.

  “How do I get back to the dressing room?” he asks.

  “Follow me,” I say, and we race through the halls to get him back to the dressing room. I’m walking at too quick a clip to really make conversation, and once I drop him off, I tell the band, “I’ll go check on the line and come right back to get you.”
/>
  As soon as I leave the room and the door closes behind me, I take just a second to lean on the wall and draw in a deep breath.

  Okay, so maybe the timing was off with seventeen-year-old Tyler Caldwell and he wasn’t the guy for me, but twenty-seven-year-old Tyler Caldwell might be.

  The meet and greet goes surprisingly smoothly, and I suppose that’s part of Patrick’s role—making sure he hires the right people to get the job done even in his absence.

  I catch Tyler’s eye more than once, and it’s clear that there’s something passing between us every time we lock eyes. He’s paying me far more attention than he should be considering he’s meeting his fans and working, but that fact doesn’t stop me from reveling in it.

  The opening band is on stage and I’m staring down at my clipboard trying to decide which task to tackle next when there’s a knock at my door. It bursts open before I get the chance to open my mouth to tell whoever it is to come in.

  “I’m here!” Patrick yells. “The squirrel is taken care of!”

  My brows draw together. “Taken care of?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Not, like, dead or anything, but animal control came, trapped him, and took him and his stupid nuts away.”

  “His stupid nuts?” I repeat, but you know what? I don’t even want to know.

  “Where are we at?” he asks instead of expounding on that, and I giggle before I fill him in. “Excellent,” he says once I’m done with the report. “Thank God Kiki isn’t around or she’d see how much more effective you are at my job than I am,” he says, naming the owner of the venue. “Is Christine managing okay?”

  I nod.

  “Then take the rest of the night off. You deserve it. Head backstage, enjoy the show, or go home.” He leans in and gives me a quick hug. “And thank you for covering for me.”

  “You smell like squirrel bait,” I say.

  He laughs, and then he practically runs out of my office.

  So Patrick’s back.

  I have the night off.

  Looks like I’ll be able to go to the after party after all.

  CHAPTER 3

  I thought about knocking on the dressing room door but ultimately decided to leave them alone. Tyler has stuff to do before he takes the stage, and catching up with someone from the past probably doesn’t calculate into that—especially not in those precious minutes between meeting fans and the start of the concert.

  He’s made it clear he’s interested, and I’ll let the ball lie in his court. I do, after all, have homefield advantage here. It’s only fair to give him his own advantage.

  So rather than knocking on the door, I head to the side of the stage to watch the opening band. I find myself surprisingly captivated by their sound. It’s rare that I have the time to pop backstage during a show to just sit and watch, but this is part of Patrick’s duties to ensure everything is running smoothly.

  I’m bobbing my head to the beat, ignoring the hustle and bustle backstage as I focus on the music and the band on stage. Four young men play the hell out of their instruments, and it’s clear they’re playing their hardest to find new fans in the group of people who have gathered here to watch the headliners.

  My heart ripples as I think about Tyler.

  I let the memories of the past wash over me just like they’ve been doing since I realized who he is, and I can’t help but wonder what his life has been like since I last saw him. I knew he was into music, knew he played bass, but I had no idea he was so serious about it. It seemed like he was just hanging out with his buddies and screwing around—not like he had an actual future in this.

  And it’s as I’m standing there thinking about him that I feel arms lace around my waist and a hard body run the full length of my backside.

  He shouldn’t be here.

  He should be getting ready to take the stage in front of the twenty thousand or so fans waiting for his band.

  My chest races and my stomach flips.

  His fresh, clean scent I recognized earlier hits my nose, but it isn’t just the way he smells that helps me recognize him.

  It’s the feeling I get around him.

  It’s not just that blast from the past thing, though maybe that’s some small part of it. It’s the need and want all mixed in with being around someone familiar.

  It’s the thrill of feeling wanted again after going through a devastating break-up.

  I haven’t dated at all.

  This is new and different and really, really scary...but it’s exciting.

  It’s possible he just wants this one night to make up for the past...and maybe that’s okay with me. If he wants more, well, we’ll explore that route when we arrive at it.

  Warm lips meet the skin of my neck, and shudders run through me from the spot where his lips move all the way down to my toes. My knees knock together as nerves take hold, and suddenly I’m absolutely desperate to feel those lips against mine.

  He may only be in town for tonight.

  I may have passed over him when I was sixteen, but I was young and dumb back then. Now I’m a little older...and possibly still dumb. Time will tell, but I’m not missing this chance.

  I turn in his arms, his hands never leaving my waist, and our eyes lock. His are dark back here. They’re a little mysterious and definitely full of heat. My eyes flick to his lips, and then he moves like a damn jungle cat as his mouth crushes against mine.

  The loud music playing mere feet away from us seems to fade down to mute as my ears buzz with a rush of need. He goes right for it, his lips opening as his tongue brushes mine, his movements urgent as his fingers press into my hips and he holds his body flush against mine. My own hands meander up his chest and land over on his biceps, and he’s solid. Everywhere, I note when his hips shift toward mine.

  He holds nothing back as this kiss a decade in the making finally happens, and I give him everything I have, too.

  It’s all over far too soon as he slows the kiss before he stops it. He pulls back, his eyes on mine for a beat. His seem to be full of regret—maybe that he had to stop, maybe that this didn’t happen sooner, or maybe something else—and then one side of his mouth tips into a smile.

  “I’ll see you after our set,” he says, and then he presses a gentle kiss to my cheek before he turns and walks away.

  I stand there staring after him. He doesn’t look back until he turns the corner, and he pauses just for a beat when our eyes meet. He holds up a hand in a casual wave, and I wave back, and then he disappears around the corner.

  I go back to my office to compose myself. I grab a quick bite to eat, and I don’t see him again until I head backstage to watch his set.

  My timing is off, but, then, everything about tonight feels a little off. I miss their entrance, but I go to his side of the stage just as the first song ends. I’m standing with a group of people. They might be fans, or they might be roadies or groupies or family members. I don’t know, and I don’t really care. I just want to watch Tyler.

  I stare at him as he plays the bass guitar. He’s clearly concentrating on his craft, but he’s so good at what he’s doing that he seems like he could play in his sleep. As he starts the rhythm for their second song, he glances up at the crowd. I’m too far away to see what registers in his eyes as he looks out over all the people here to watch him, here to sing along with his songs, here to scream and cheer and maybe even lust over him.

  Is he nervous? Is he comfortable? Is he excited or scared or is this a normal, everyday thing that’s just a part of his job?

  He turns toward the direction of stage left near where I’m standing as he starts moving around a bit instead of staying in one place, and his eyes lift to gaze out over the crowd on our side of the arena. And that’s when he glances side stage and his eyes meet mine where I’m tucked just out of the audience’s view.

  His lips lift into a smile, and my knees feel weak.

  God, he’s hot.

  He’s not the boy I knew. He’s grown into the kind of man
who can get a girl to drop her panties just with his smile. And it’s not just because he’s a rock star, though that certainly doesn’t hurt his case. He has this intrinsic charm about him that I can see even as I watch him do his thing on stage.

  He turns back to the audience, but he tosses the occasional glance my way—just enough for me to know he’s thinking about me.

  He’s thinking about me when he’s on stage performing in front of a crowd of twenty thousand people.

  That fact does something crazy to my normally logical thinking skills. It pushes them out of my head completely.

  Tonight will certainly include some activities I never saw coming when I woke up this morning.

  And speaking of coming...

  Good Lord.

  I watch his mouth as he moves closer to the microphone to interject some backup vocals. It makes me think about what else he can do with that talented mouth.

  I watch his hands as he plucks at the strings. It makes me think about what else he can do with those sexy hands.

  I’m wading through this current of lust that only gets stronger by the second as I watch somebody I used to know.

  Somebody I want to know again...but in a whole new way. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but the promise of what might happen tonight is thick around me as I revel in the anticipation. I touch my lips as I remember when his were on mine.

  Two hours pass in the blink of an eye as I stare at Tyler Caldwell. I could stare at him as he plays the bass forever, but we don’t have that luxury.

  They take a bow and leave the stage, and we’re engulfed in darkness. That means they’ll be going back onto the stage for the encore. I see flashlights on the ground in the back, but the spot where I stand is still swathed in darkness.

  Roadies rush by with guitars and more beer and equipment, but the loud screams from the crowd make it impossible to hear much of anything back here as we wait for the band to take the stage and play a couple more songs.