Harper leaned on the wide railing that overlooked the dance floor of Honky Tonk Central. The sweet scent of barbecue and the briny blast of grease laden fries made her belly grumble. They’d made their order thirty minutes ago, but the place was packed. Wall to wall people in a mix of western gear and Friday night please-guess-my-cup-size shirts danced or lingered around the bar.

“Yo, Harper!”

She turned to Marie and Gina, a few of the support staff from Food Riot. Gina fluffed her pixie cut of blonde hair. “That cute waiter is heading our way with food.”

“Finally.” She perched on the end of the cube-shaped leather club chair.

“Sorry it took so long, ladies.” The lanky waiter flashed a smile. The dim light up on the balcony sections of the restaurant couldn’t mask the way his bright blue eyes twinkled. There was a light breeze from outside that attempted to cut the humidity—special emphasis on attempted.

Funky tables and chairs made for a mash-up of homey and eclectic in their area. Max, their flirty waiter, set his tray down near Harper. He smiled down at her, a dimple flashing.

Instead of the charm he was trying to convey, all he did was remind her of another man with deeper dimples. When the hell did she start preferring green eyes over blue?

Harper Lee, you are sitting in a pile of trouble.

Shaking off the gloom, she accepted the huge blue plate of chicken fried chicken, extra cheesy mac and cheese, and red skinned mashed potatoes.

“Food I didn’t have to cook.” She sighed.

“This place is crazy. I didn’t think I’d find anyone I knew.”

Harper shut her eyes. Oh, God, no way. It couldn’t be him. Taking a deep breath, she looked up. What the hell was he doing here? Deacon loomed over her, his insane height making her very aware of just how tiny she was on the stupid chair that was barely a foot off the floor. And his dimples were a million times more potent than Max’s, dammit.

Max turned. “Hey, man. I didn’t know they had another person in their party. Can I get you something?”

“We don’t,” Harper said quickly. “He’s not with us.”

“Oh, okay.” Max looked from Gina to Marie and back to her. “This guy bothering you?”

Deacon smiled amiably. “Party crasher, that’s me. You girls don’t mind, right?”

“I don’t,” Marie said with her usual quick friendliness. “You guys don’t right?” Gina shook her head and moved over on the couch. Harper swallowed a growl.

Lanky Max seemed tall, fit, and delicious without Deacon in the room, but now he seemed more like a boy. Dense muscle and another four inches of powerful fuck-me-running hotness put waiter firmly in last place in the hotness factor. Add in the little bit more than scruff decorating Deacon’s strong jawline that lent him a slightly dangerous edge and she could hear her heartbeat between her ears.

Or was that her thighs?

He always looked a little morning after, but now he was the definition of sun-rumpled. Tan and delicious.

No. Not delicious.

“Whatever dark beer you’ve got,” Deacon said with a smile.

His deep voice dragged her back to the moment and she turned away to study her plate instead. That was delicious, not Deacon.

“You got it.” Max backed out of their little corner of the balcony section. “I’ll be right back if you need anything.”

Deacon shifted his battered knapsack from his shoulder to the floor next to the couch. “Mitch told me you guys would be here.”

“Mitch?” That little shit. And since when did he sic a guy on her? Usually he was ready to beat them with a cast iron skillet or with his plate-sized hands.

“Yeah. He took me into town with him today. This area is awesome.”

Deacon moved next to her, and then, before she could say a damn word, he straddled the chair and cozied up behind her. The wall of beach-scented heat that rolled forward enveloped her as surely as if it had been his arms.

“What d’ya got there?”

She tried to scoot forward to give him room, but she was already at the edge. He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her back. “Easy there.”

His fingertips grazed her ribs. She closed her eyes. Do not moan, Harper Lee. With her eyes closed, all she could focus on were the little circles he was making. Was he doing that on purpose? “There are other chairs, you know.”

“I like this one,” he said low in her ear.

Her eyes fluttered open, and the room seemed too loud and invasive. All she wanted to do was curl back into him.

When he snaked his other arm through and broke off a piece of her chicken, she instinctively jammed her elbow into his gut. His rock-hard, crazy-muscled gut. He popped the piece into his mouth. Spell broken, the food thief was back.

“Oh, wow. That’s good.” When he reached around her for another piece, she slapped his hand.

“I ordered this for myself, big guy. I’m not feeding you.” There. She even sounded normal. So, her voice might be an octave or two lower. No one could tell with all the noise.

“C’mon. I’ll order another plate.” The teasing rumble of his voice skittered down her neck and zeroed in on her nipples. Thank you, Wonder Bra and the little bit of extra padding. Because her little tank definitely wouldn’t hide her reaction.

“We share this one, and we can share mine.” He leaned forward, crowding her again, and snagged the menu off the table. “Maybe.” He sat back, absently brushing her hair over her shoulder and played with the ends. His cargo clad thighs hugged her.

All very normal. It was as if he’d sat with her like this a million times. She tried to keep herself stiff and away from him, but the tiny pulls on her hair melted her spine like butter on warm bread. She cut up her chicken and potatoes, instinctively making sure to make larger pieces for him.

God, what was she doing?

She was not feeding this man again. This was her night off. She was feeding herself, and that was all there was to it. This man was not going to make her any more insane. Nope. No.

She wouldn’t allow it. She set her plate down and was just about to move to the chair opposite when a couple wandered in and snagged it. And of course, it was the last chair. The guy sat first and dumped his girlfriend into his lap with a laugh. And then they proceeded to make out like the end of the world was nigh.

Craptastic.

Deacon slid his arm under hers and filched another piece of chicken. The low groan in her ear was just too much. Before she could try and move again, Max came back with his beer. Deacon looked up at their waiter.

“How about the sampler platter for the lot of us and I’ll have the biggest burger you’ve got.”

“Great choice.” Max winked at Gina and swiped up the empties that littered the table.

“So what did you guys do with your day off?”

Gina turned to him. “We went shopping downtown. I have to confess I saw your tweet earlier and almost came to the barbecue place.”

Deacon shifted behind her, settling his arms on her thighs, his large hands cupping her knees. “Oh, you should have. A bunch of people were there.”

“How many were dolled up like they were going to a show?” Marie teased.

“Well, there was this crazy mother-daughter team there.”

Harper stiffened. He’d spent the afternoon with a bunch of groupies, and now he thought he could paw at her. No, sir.

“But for the most part, it was people that just wanted to hang out. Which is the way I like it.”

“I bet.”

“Why Chef Pruitt, you sound a little jealous.” He dragged his palms up and down her thighs. The warm, light abrasion made her skin sizzle to life. A-freaking-gain. What was it with this man and his easy touches? Was he just a touchy-feely sort? He did seem to be easy with his bandmates.

“Not at all.” She cleared the 1-900 out of her voice. “Just typical, that’s all.”

His fingertips dug into her thighs. “I told you, Harper. I’m anything but typical. It’s a shame you keep trying to box me into these little ideas you have about musicians. Just makes me want to prove you wrong all the more.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Is that what this is? You trying to prove something?”

“Um. I think we’re going to go get a drink,” Marie said and stood.

“We are? But he said he was coming right back with dri—”

Marie grabbed Gina’s hand and hauled her off the couch with a meaningful look that was about as delicate as a shovel to the forehead. “Let’s go find the hot waiter.”

“Oh.” Gina looked from Deacon to Harper and her eyebrow winged up into her bangs. “You know what? That’s a great idea.”

“No, you guys—” Harper tried to stand, but Deacon held her down with just the lightest of pressure.

“You just have fun with Deacon. We’ll be back.” Marie chirped with a huge grin. “I’m really thirsty. Too thirsty to wait for him.” They both stood and before they got to the stairs, two people filled their spots on the couch.

“My friends are sitting there.”

The two girls shrugged. “We’ll move when they get back.”

Harper sagged back against Deacon and at the warm feel of his chest she pokered back up. It was way too easy to lean back into him. He was invading her space left and right and she didn’t like it, dammit.

She set her plate on the table in front of her and wriggled out of his hold. Deacon braceleted her wrist with his long fingers. “Harper, wait.”

“No, I need to move. My butt’s asleep.”

He sat forward and slid an arm around her waist, drawing her around until she faced him. “What exactly are you afraid of?”

She had the strongest urge to push his hair back from his face and see if it was soft as it looked. It would be so easy to reach out and find out if his scruff was prickly, so easy to lose herself in him.

Even seated he was merely a few inches shorter than she was standing. And his shoulders completely eclipsed the small chair. Hell, they practically eclipsed the entire railing.

“Harper?”

She closed her eyes, blocking out everything about him. If she could just step back and get out of the Deacon blast zone then she’d be okay again. She tried to step back. She really did. She got far enough away that his heat didn’t permeate the air between them.

But then his hand slid along her back. Correction, his hand spanned the entire width of her lower back, and his pinkie curled under the baby doll tank she was wearing. She couldn’t stop the groan this time. And it was all he needed to drag her down.

She pressed her knee into the space she’d been sitting in and bumped the impressive bulge behind his zipper. Fingers lost their willpower—okay, so they didn’t really have a mind of their own, but they may as well have, because they found their way into his hair and curved along the surface of his neck until she was close enough that her chest brushed his.

He enveloped her. Those impressive forearms gathered her into the wall of muscle that was Deacon, and she finally owned up to the fact that she didn’t want to step back. She wanted to melt into him.

So she did.

She straddled one thigh, and he dragged her around until she was seated on his lap. The impressive bulge became so much more. The seam of her jeans bumped along his rigid shaft as his mouth hovered inches from hers.

Long lashes were at half mast, leaving a mere sliver of his beautiful, gold-green eyes for her to drown in. It wasn’t like she was powerless against him. It was so much more than that. He was warmth and promise and generosity distilled into an impossible man.

At least she would have called him impossible a week ago.

“I…”

She lost her breath when he lifted his mouth, and her name was a prayer against her lips. Then he swallowed the space between them. His hand crawled up her shirt and anchored her to him. And then there was nothing but Deacon.

She expected slow and gentle, but there was nothing gentle about the first clash of mouths and teeth. His arms were like bands around her, and he slanted his mouth along hers until there was nothing but the cool, hoppy flavor of beer.

He drew her into the kiss with a teasing curl of tongue and lips. He sucked and stroked, groaned into her mouth as he infused her taste buds with a taste richer than wine, more tantalizing than savory, sweeter and headier than chocolate. This was Deacon in his purest form.

A taste like no other.

He cupped her face. His fingertips speared into her hair as his entire body opened for her. The slow roll of his hips activated the friction that had started just before the kiss. And her body shuddered to life.

As if she were shaking off rubber bands that had been holding her too tight, her chest expanded to breathe him in. She dug her fingers into his shoulders. The ropey muscle flexed beneath her touch and the words he murmured didn’t make sense. But the tiny breaths he allowed her were punctuated with her name. And in the middle of a crowd she finally felt centered for the first time in her life.

She didn’t want to stop the kiss. Didn’t want to stop the unerring roll of his hips. And she most certainly didn’t want to let reality drop between them like a wall. But there were strangers to her left and people crowding her from the right.

And if she let herself sink just a little bit more she wouldn’t give two shits. She’d unbuckle his pants and ride him right here and now and damn the consequences.

One of his hands ghosted down her back until he palmed her ass and ground her into him.

“Deacon.”

“No. Don’t stop. Just a minute longer.”

“A minute longer and we’ll be arrested.”

“Who cares?” He pulled her tighter to him and the length of his cock made her whimper into his mouth. God, he’d fill her up. So freaking good. It would be so goddamn amazing.

“I knew if I kissed you it would be amazing, but this?” He punctuated the question with a breath-stealing kiss. He gripped her ass with each hand. “I didn’t know it would be like this.”

She pushed his hair back and simply stared. Unframed, his angular cheekbones were even more pronounced and his lips were wet from hers. But his eyes wrecked her. The gold was obliterated by his pupils. Just the rims of dark green around the black pools she was drowning in. She nipped his lower lip then pressed her forehead to his.

“We’re going to burn out,” she said against his mouth and couldn’t stop herself from tasting him again. And then one more time as she framed his face. “Nothing good will come of this.”

“Harper, nothing but good is going to come from this.” He dug his fingers into her ass pockets and pressed her tighter to him.

“Sex. I know, I get it. The sex is going to be truly…” she dragged her thumb over his wet lower lip until he nipped the tip, “oh, it will be exceptional. Possibly the best I’ve ever had.”

“Possibly?”

She laughed into his mouth and slid her tongue into his mouth to tangle with his. The kiss spun out until her brain fuzzed again. She tore her mouth from his. “Probably.” She huffed. Her starved lungs demanded a break. A breath, a freaking moment to step back.

Sure. It was her lungs that demanded it.

She put her foot down on the floor and swung her leg off of him. This time he actually let her stand. With a shaky breath, she tucked a heavy lock of his silky hair around his ear.

“If you deny something is happening between us, I’m going to kiss you stupid again, Harper Pruitt.”

How on earth could she deny it? If nothing else, she was a realist. And walking away from Deacon right now wasn’t an option.

Anything that was this big and tremor-inducing couldn’t do anything but flame out like a meteor. She just hoped the both of them wouldn’t be too charred by the end of the ride.

She lowered her lips to his forehead. “I’m in, Deacon. Possibly more in than you can handle. I don’t do anything at half measure.”

Deacon stood. “Good, then that’s settled. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Before she could open her mouth, Max came up the stairs with a to-go bag. “I thought you might like this.”

The grin that spread across Deacon’s face could have lit the entire bar. “You read my mind.”

“I think the entire section read your mind, dude,” Max said with raised brows as Deacon traded the bag for a wad of bills.

Harper was pretty sure she was the color of the Budweiser sign. When Deacon slid his hand around hers, she decided she couldn’t really care all that much. They went down the stairs and passed Marie and Gina at the bar.

Max followed them down the stairs and made a beeline for Gina. Marie waved her away and made the sign for phone. Harper dug out her cell and saw the bright bubble of text when she clicked it to life.

She shook her head.

Deacon looked back at her. “What?”

“Never mind. Looks like we’re out of here.”

“You’ve got a car?”

“Yeah, I do actually.”

They stepped out of Honky Tonk Central and into the humid August night. The streets were frenetic with neon and foot traffic. Clubs lured. Some with twangs, some with sad acoustic tones, and still others with an engrossing mix of rock and rockabilly.

But nothing as alluring as the man beside her. His warm, calloused hand had an unrelenting grip. Like he was afraid she’d pull back. Not a bad fear to have because with a breath of life on the outside of the bar her jitters returned.

He hauled her across the street, his long-legged stride leaving her no choice but to jog to catch up. She twisted the handle of the bag of their food around her wrist. “Deacon! I’m wearing flip-flops here.”

“No wonder you seem so short tonight.” Instead of slowing down, he took the bag from her and handed it to the man that was sitting against the building. “Dinner’s on me tonight, sir.”

“Uh, thanks?” The man said and peered into the bag. He looked up at Deacon. “Seriously?”

“Burger.”

“Sold,” the guy said and smiled.

Harper was barely able to wave to the guy before Deacon led her off the main street and into a small park. Twinkle lights broke up the shadows and highlighted well-groomed trees and cared for benches. A few couples walked around, but for the most part they were alone.

“I actually hung out here earlier.”

“Sleeping off your epic barbecue lunch?”

“You follow me on Twitter too?” Deacon asked as he pulled her down onto a little square of lawn.

“Maybe.”

He set his bag against the tree and pulled her into his arms. She braced for the torrent of attraction that had taken over at the restaurant. Instead, he slipped his fingers into her hair and lightly massaged the base of her skull. He settled her astride his thighs and slowly urged her closer.

With each soothing stroke, her body revved and loosened at the same time. The contradiction did nothing to alleviate the need that simmered. She skimmed the backs of her knuckles along his scruffy cheek, drawing her fingertips along his jaw to his lips.

Restless, she rolled her hips in time with his touch. “What are we doing?”

“Getting to know each other.” His mouth was barely an inch away.

She traced his lower lip. When he nipped at the pad of her finger, she skipped down to the dent in his chin and lower to his Adam’s apple. She leaned in and brushed her lips over the whorls of hair that were a few days past scruffy. It tickled as she explored down to his clavicle.

His other hand slid down to her hips, gripping her tighter. Undeterred, she dipped the tip of her tongue into the little half circle notch and tasted his salty skin.

“You’re killing me.”

She smiled into his skin. “You’re the one that slowed us down. Now I want to take my time.” His rumbling groan buzzed under her tongue as she followed the line of bone. Just as she was about to make a return trip up, he gripped the hair at her nape and angled her up.

Street sounds faded until there was nothing but breath and there... Oh, God yes. Deacon’s soft lips. Gentle kisses dissolved into ardent strokes of tongue. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, buried her fingers in his thick, silky hair.

He dragged her head back and coasted down her neck, shifting her until his cock was tucked tight against the seam of her jeans. Twinkle lights blurred into the night sky as he pulled her tighter against him.

Restless, she rocked against him. She reached out blindly, her palm scraping over the bark of the tree behind them. The flash of pain pulled her back. Zero to one hundred wasn’t smart. This had been simmering between them for days, but she had to think.

His teeth coasted up and over her chin and then his mouth was on hers again.

Sweet Pete, he knew how to kiss.

Most of the men she’d been with used kissing as a tool to get them into the end zone. That had been her feelings on the subject as well, but not with him.

Here and now, it was an art form.

He nipped her top lip and went in for another mind bender.

She’d never survive.

She pulled back. Instead of stopping, he went for her neck again. His fingers dug into her hips and ass. He had really long fingers.

God, no. Do not go there, Harper Lee.

She panted out a strangled version of his name.

He didn’t stop. No, he went for the sensitive—well, now she knew it was sensitive—skin between shoulder and neck. Were her eyeballs rolling back into her head?

So freaking good. Just another minute.

No.

“Deacon.” She managed to sound a little more firm. At least she must have because he pulled back.

That was probably a mistake. His pupils were wide with lust and his features had sharpened. But then he slowly softened and cursed. He cupped her face. “Too fast.”

She nodded. “A little.”

“Right.” She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. His gaze dropped to her chest, then back up to her neck and finally, her eyes. “Right,” he repeated.

She slid off of him, her butt landing on the grass before she collapsed against the tree beside him. “You’re really good at that, mister.”

He smiled. “I’ve been thinking about doing that for over a week.”

“Planning works for you.”

Laughing, he rolled onto his knees and leaned into her. “Just imagine what I can do in a controlled environment?”

Her gaze dropped to his mouth before she pushed him back. “Dangerous.”

“Not dangerous, just thorough.”

Well, crap. She looked away.

He gently nudged her chin back to face him. “I can take you back to the bus, I can find us a hotel,” she looked down, “and I can also wait.”

Her gaze flew back to his. “You’re okay with that?”

“I’m hard as a spike, but I’ve had hard-ons before, Harper. I’ll live.”

Before Harper knew what to say Deacon tucked his shoulder down and hefted her onto his shoulder. Just like that? From let’s bang to sack of potatoes?

“You have got to stop hauling me around.”

He grabbed his knapsack. “I need to run off a little energy.” He took off back where they came.

Squealing, she kicked once and levered herself up on his shoulder. “You don’t even know where my car is.” People’s heads bounced in front of her and the startled frowns turned to grins when she waved. No need for someone to report him for kidnapping.

Even if it felt like that’s exactly what he was doing.

“I’ve got one more thing to check out before we go.” He tightened his grip on the back of her knees and stroked the back of her thigh. “Don’t trust me?”

The man was going to kill her and he hadn’t even gotten her naked. “No.”

He laughed and headed down an alley.

“Where are we going?”

“On my way over here I saw one of those sandwich signs and want to check something out.”

“How?” He pulled out of the flood of foot traffic and lowered her to the sidewalk.

“How what?”

Off center, she crashed into his side and he took the opportunity to drag her closer. “How could you even see a sign with all this chaos?” She waved her hand into the melee. There was so much neon and so many signs they just blurred into one big mess.

He shrugged. “I knew the name.” With that bit of intrigue and an arm around her shoulder, he swept her into the crowd again. They’d flashed by brownstones and stucco, brick and neon. She didn’t even know what street they were on anymore. How the hell could he know where they were?

“Do you have a GPS in your brain or something?”

He laughed and brushed a kiss over her forehead. “I grew up all over the place, remember?”

“Yeah, well, so did I.”

“Girls have a shitty sense of direction?”

She slugged him in the belly. As usual he barely noticed, just kept moving forward, dragging her along to his own plan. “Deacon, give me a little hint.”

“Let’s just say that the bus ride was damn long. And Netflix got me through a lot of boring days and nights.”

“And that has what to do with Nashville? You don’t exactly seem the type to be watching Hayden Panettiere.”

He snorted. “I do seem to have a thing for tiny, smokin’ hot blondes.”

“Get real.” But the belly flipping pleasure still arrowed through her. She was just a chef. A no-name chef at the moment.

His dimple deepened. “I watched a lot of tattoo shows. This one guy that competed was fucking awesome. And I saw his name on this board. He’s doing a three day workshop and holding night appointments.”

“And you made an appointment?”

“Nah. I just want to check him out. If he can fit me in, I’ll see what’s what.”

“So, on your day off you’re going to subject your skin to raw, sizzling pain?”

He stopped in front of a huge window with “Monster Ink” emblazoned on the glass in scripted letters. She looked up at him, and his green eyes were sparkling for a different reason now.

She wasn’t sure whether to be offended or intrigued that he’d switched gears so easily. Now he wanted to inflict pain on himself?

She could bite if he liked a little pain.

“You did see my ink, right?”

Steering her brain back to the subject at hand, she grazed her knuckle along his forearm where Oblivion was stamped and then to his left bicep. Oh, she remembered the ink. The first time she saw him that had been one of the more memorable aspects to him. Next to his eyes.

“I saw.” She scraped her nail over the splatter of red and black, pushing up the sleeve to get a better look. Now that she had access to his body, she could explore and sate her curiosity. A Treble clef and a bass clef made a yin yang sort of deal on his upper arm with splashes of red and black behind it like blood splatter and ink had a shootout.

It was eighteen kinds of hot. Although that could have something to do with the network of muscles. She couldn’t remember a gym freak that had ever turned her on like Deacon. Most of them seemed too into themselves, but Deacon didn’t do any flexing or posturing to get people to notice him.

Hell, he didn’t need to. His height did that whether he wanted it to or not. But he seemed at ease with his body. Fluid and graceful on stage and off. It was a little off-putting to tell the truth. She had complete control in the kitchen, but outside of that? Not so much.

He slid his fingers into her hair, tipping her face up to his. “The tat isn’t going to change no matter how much you rub at it.”

She rolled her eyes and tried to push him away. When he didn’t budge she laughed. “Ass.” But he continued to look down at her, his eyes shone in the dim light of the neon and glass. “What?”

“Maybe the tattoo guy isn’t all that interesting after all.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He crowded in on her. She brushed her nose along the firm ridge of muscle under his shirt, closing her eyes when his ocean scent curled around her. Slipping her hand around his back and along the smooth skin of his back shouldn’t have felt so natural, but God it did. The light sheen of sweat that gathered in the dip of his spine made her wonder just how drenched they’d end up once their clothes disappeared.

No, you are the one that wanted to slow down remember, Harper Lee?

The light rumble in his chest made her open her eyes just in time to see him coming in for a kiss. He stopped, inches away from her mouth. He cupped her face so gently. This huge man that could snap from playful to gentle in a nanosecond left her so unbalanced.

And she wasn’t used to being unbalanced, dammit. She cleared her throat. “Well come on. Let’s go see this guy.”

He followed the curve of her cheek with a slow sweep of his thumb. “Plenty of time, Harper.”

Why was it that when he said her name it sounded like a promise instead of the plain old masculine name it felt like usually? And this time when his lips met hers it stayed sweet. The rush of need simmered between them instead of overflowing. His lips were soft and almost hesitant. As if learning just what she needed in the moment.

Following the dip of his spine up to where his back broadened, she coasted back down until she could cup his butt. He grunted, then she felt his lips curve into a smile, breaking the kiss. She took the opportunity to unglue herself. Off balance. Need peppered the air between them. They were in the middle of the freaking sidewalk and she was ready to climb him like a damn tree.

And she’d known him for less than a week.

So she let her mouth curve into a grin. Smiling and flirting were safe. “So where do you want the tat if he’s going to work on you?”

He slid a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Something on my back.”

“No ink on your back yet?”

“Nope.” He hovered over her mouth, his intent clear. More kissing. And she would be one big pile of gooey, needy awfulness if she kissed him any longer. He was way too good at it.

She stepped back, her smile widening when he tried to pull her back. But just like that, her gentle giant let her go and followed her to the door of the tattoo parlor. She turned, her skin buzzing at the simple contact of their fingers intertwined. Breathing easier because his all-too intense gaze was off her and his smell was out of her nostrils, she led him through the crush of bodies.

A woman stood at a podium, her face bland with an I-don’t-give-two-shits-what-you-want-I-am-the-gatekeeper look. Jet black hair in a skull hugging cut framed her incredible face. Her creamy skin was dusted with freckles. Not the cute kind. They were more of the large and in your face style, just like the woman seemed to be. But they weren’t a detriment. In fact she made Harper feel very plain.

The Amazon’s make-up was done to emphasize the tilt of her eyes and play up feline green eyes. Part of her wanted to stumble back a step, but Harper knew that would be a mistake. She glanced at the woman’s name tag. It was one of those Hello My Name is stickers. The name—No.

Deacon hooked their joined fingers against her belly as he crowded in behind her.

“Looks like quite a line. Guess he’s booked up, huh?”

“Ya think?”

Harper smothered a smile. Genteel southerner this woman was not.

“I’m assuming we aren’t getting in.” Harper kept her voice mild and friendly minus the sugar.

“Well, aren’t you a smart blonde. It’s a miracle.”

Deacon stiffened behind her, but Harper held up a hand. “Obviously No doesn’t have any spaces available. And she’s probably been badgered quite a bit.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Exactly.”

“Is there a spot where the big guy can at least watch one of the tattoos being done? He’s a fan.”

No obviously relaxed her shoulders and nodded to a line of people at a large glass window. “He can watch from over there.”

Harper looked over her shoulder. “Looks like your height will come in handy, Deacon. You can see right over their heads.”

Disappointment clouded his eyes, but he nodded. “Yeah, if you’re cool with it, I’d like to watch for a few minutes.”

“Oh, hey.” They both turned back to the woman. “We’ve got a drawing for a consultation. Because we knew there’d be a big line.”

“Thanks.” Harper smiled at the woman then looked up at Deacon. “Why don’t you go take a look and I’ll fill it out.”

“You sure?”

Politeness was etched on his face, but she could tell he really wanted to be among the horde. “Go.”

The grin that spread across his face was well worth the loud crush of people and what would be a boring hour or more for her. Deacon’s pleasure could become addictive.

Harper turned back to the woman, and her unflinching stare. “What?”

“He’s not pushing for an appointment.”

“He’s not the type to be rude.” Harper huffed out a laugh. “He’d probably bite off his own tongue first.”

“He’s Deacon McCoy.”

Realization hit. Deacon was growing in fame. He didn’t act like anything other than a sweet man that just happened to play bass for a band that was exploding across the rock scene. Why was it so easy for her to forget that?

Sure, Simon, Nick and Gray were the more easily recognized—especially Simon since he was the lead singer. But the sheer size of Deacon made him a commanding presence. She saw how people reacted to him. They half expected him to be famous just because he was larger than life. And yet, he never acted entitled. Something told her he wouldn’t lose that aspect either.

She looked over her shoulder. Deacon stood at the back of the hallway, his hands tucked into his oversized cargo shorts. He wore a simple red t-shirt with the iconic script Ford emblazoned across his chest. Regular guy should have been stamped across him and yet somehow it simply wasn’t.

“He’s just a nice guy.” Harper shrugged.

“So I see.” After a pause, she spoke again, holding out her hand. “I’m Kate.”

Harper shook her hand then pulled the paper in front of her to scribble down his name and her cell on the ticket. She’d practically crawled into Deacon’s skin, but they hadn’t traded cell phone numbers yet. Too weird. She handed over the ticket. “Nice to meet you, Kate.”

Instead of putting the ticket in the fish bowl, Kate slid it into her pocket. Not sure what to make of that, Harper made her way into the crowd. The window was completely blocked by people at this point. And her own five-foot-three inch self couldn’t see jack. The funny thing was that both men and women were watching in rapt attention.

Deacon included.

It was going to be a long evening.