Kelsey Martin

Holy hotness!

I peeked over a shelf of vinyl records at Matt Stallworth’s hulking body. It filled the entire doorframe leaving little room for light from outside to pass through. He took a step inside and my thighs squeezed tightly together.

Someone betrayed me. Was it Jenny or Ethan?

I stumbled backward and caught myself before I tripped over my own feet and fell to the hard tile floor. My mind raced and I retreated back to the stockroom where I paced back and forth with my hands on my hips. Matt Stallworth played professional baseball and just so happened to be best friends with Jenny’s fiancé, Ethan.

He’s gorgeous but so not your type, Kelsey.

I’d only dated guys who played guitar. They were the kind of guys who screamed into microphones and then leaped off the stage into a crowd of drunks bobbing their heads to music pounding through speakers—average guys with little money and only a dream of signing a big record contract. Basically, I dated guys who loved music more than they loved me.

There was one guy—Connor O’Reilly—lead singer, lead guitar, leader of a cult of women I knew nothing about while he told me he was head over heels in love with me. He turned me into a fool. I let him stay at my apartment, gave him money—thought I was supporting us until he got his big record contract.

The day I walked in on him fucking some blonde groupie in my bed—well, I hadn’t trusted a guy since, and probably never would again. I glanced down at my hand, balled into a tight fist just thinking about that prick.

I looked back out at Matt. He was about twice Connor’s size with huge, bulging biceps. Connor wore leather and was covered in tattoos. Matt was the polar opposite of Connor, and, well, any other musician I’d ever dated. Why was I even comparing the two? Maybe it was because my stomach tied in knots every time I saw Matt’s picture on the sports page, and the fact that I’d found myself constantly scanning the sports page ever since I’d met him.

What in God’s name is he doing here?

Guys like Matt went out with cheerleaders and prom queens, not chicks who wore tattered Levi’s and Led Zeppelin T-shirts. Sure, we’d exchanged flirty glances from time to time, but I didn’t think there was ever a chance in hell he’d be interested in me.

“Damn, K, you gotta lay off the tweaker shit. Keep it mellow, mannn.”

I whipped around to face my boss, Twilight Mickelson. I had no idea if Twilight was his real name, but it definitely suited him. His giant beard hung down in front of a tie-dyed Grateful Dead shirt and his eyes were glassy and red, per the usual.

I froze in my tracks. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

He giggled, hard. I couldn’t tell if it was because of my current predicament or his medicinal-induced state of euphoria—probably a little of both.

“Naw, mannn. I’ve seen this look before.” He held up a wrinkled finger that trembled in the air. “This is about a boy, ain’t it?”

“No!” I shot back, but my face heated and had to be bright pink.

Asshole.

Twilight had to be in his sixties, though we’d never discussed his age. He often told stories of his hippie days that never seemed to have ended. I’d been able to figure out his age range from his many tales of promiscuous sex and drug use.

He held out both palms and twirled his body in a circle; his silvery beard and long hair flowed through the air.

What in the world is he doing now?

“Free love is all around us, K. It’s like a force field of the goddess. You gotta embrace the aura.”

“Oh, for the love of…I’m going back out there. Pull yourself together, please.”

I couldn’t help but laugh and I appreciated that a little bit. It took my mind off the gorgeous athlete standing out in the middle of the store.

“Hello?” Matt’s voice called out.

I pushed the back door open and ogled Matt for a quick second. His boyish grin and lighthearted nature always sent unexplained butterflies straight into my belly. I caught myself smiling with my cheek pressed against the side of the doorframe.

Play it cool, Kelsey.

I strode out between two large shelves of vinyl labeled “romantic albums.”

“Yes, I’m here. How can I—?”

Our eyes locked.

Tingles.

So many tingles.

They went off between my legs like fireworks. Ugh!

“Oh, umm, hi. It’s Matt, right?”

He smirked like he knew the exact game I was playing. He and Ethan and their constant smirking. I told myself it was their cocky, asshole-ish nature, but I knew better. They were both really sweet guys, but there was something about athletes that just rubbed me wrong and I found it hard to get over that, mainly because most of the time they were, in fact, cocky assholes.

“Yes, that is my name, Matt.” He stared at me like he knew that I knew his name.

I stared back like I knew that I knew his name but that he shouldn’t just think that everyone should automatically know his name because he could hit one of those baseballs really far.

His eyes grazed down my body and I could practically feel the heat from his gorgeous blues searing me like a blowtorch. They finally moved back to mine and I put a hand on my hip and cocked it to the side. Jenny always said it was my tell when a hot guy was in front of me, but I always maintained it was my “I’m not taking any bullshit” stance.

“Sorry, I’m horrible with names sometimes.”

A lie.

And I certainly wasn’t horrible at remembering his face.

“Can I help you find something?”

He licked his lips slightly and his stare heated me up a few degrees more. “I think I found what I was looking for.”

Gah—help me! This man and his mouth. I wonder if he uses it well elsewhere?

“Is that so?”

He started toward me and my heart rate kicked up to a punishing pace. If he didn’t stop walking my words were going to morph into utter gibberish.

“Yeah. Found it.” His eyes locked on to mine.

I turned to move out of his way and my back rammed into the record display behind me. I jolted forward into him—to balance myself—and he reached down and grabbed me by the shoulders with a grip stronger than any I’d ever felt before. Nerves skittered through my body when my breasts pressed against his stomach. He wore one of those stretchy elastic workout shirts and my tight nipples grazed along the hard ridges of his abs.

You’re done for.

“You okay?” He looked down and smiled.

Matt towered over me and I looked up at the concern in his eyes.

I couldn’t do anything but nod—well, that and worry if he could feel how hard my nips were with my chest pushed against him. He leaned down like he was going in for a kiss already.

Oh my God! Is this actually happening?

Excitement rushed through my veins, and my palms started to sweat. Then I began to think how presumptuous Matt was if he thought he could just walk into my place of business and kiss me whenever he damn well felt like it.

Inches.

He was inches from my lips. My stare found his mouth and I didn’t think I could stop him if I tried. At the last second his eyes darted to the display I’d just run into like a bumbling idiot, and one of his rough, calloused hands reached out and snagged a record from behind me.

He leaned back and released me, then held the record up to his face.

“New Spinderellas album. I’ve been looking all over for one.”

What the what? How did he even know who the Spinderellas were? What was going on here?

I glanced back by the door and Twilight was doing a half spin like he’d done in the break room with a silly grin plastered across his face. I shot him the bird where Matt couldn’t see and then waved him away.

He smiled wider and backed through the door to the stockroom.

My gaze moved back to Matt, who stared at the record the exact same way he’d looked at me right before—like he wanted to make out with it. I clutched my palms into fists, suddenly a bit jealous that I was no longer the center of his attention.

Pull yourself together, Kelsey!

I let out an obviously fake cough.

Matt stiffened to attention and his stare moved back to me.

That’s better, Matt. Eyes on me.

I wanted to slap myself for behaving like a teenage girl.

“Sorry. These guys rock,” said Matt.

“Yeah, I know. They’re playing at Bizzell tomorrow.”

“I know.”

I caught myself fawning over Matt once more. I willed myself from the fairy-tale celebrity daydream I was currently stuck inside.

“Probably because I just told you.”

Matt chuckled and shook his head.

I faked a glare. “So what are you doing here? You can get that record anywhere. And don’t you guys have someone who does all of your shopping for you anyway?”

That goddamn smirk.

“Maybe I like shopping.”

“Do you?”

I cocked my hip out again and tried not to bite my lip or twirl my hair or enact any of the other girly ploys that I currently wanted to do in front of him.

“No.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I heard the customer service was excellent.”

From Ethan, I’m sure.

“And who’d you hear that from?”

“Anonymous sources,” he whispered.

“Oh really?” I shook my head at him, trying to hide a smile.

He nodded back.

“Do you even have something to play that record on? It doesn’t spin on a phone.”

He took notice of my obvious sarcasm but it didn’t faze him one bit. “Yeah, I do, actually.”

“You’ve never even heard of them, have you?” I nodded to the record.

“I thought the customer service in this place was supposed to be good?”

He showed me that sexy smirk again.

“If you’re not happy maybe you should take your business to an establishment that’s a better fit.” I folded my arms across my chest and pushed the ladies up to give him a better view of what he was going to be missing out on.

He leaned down like he had before and my heart tried to pound its way out of my rib cage.

Oh my God, what’s he doing?

As he leaned in I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to move in for a kiss.

Don’t do it, Kelsey. Stop yourself!

Just as I was about to involuntarily toss every inhibition out the window, his head veered to the side so that his mouth was next to my ear.

“I happen to think I found a perfect fit. I love this band and I have two tickets to the show. I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow.”

He stepped to the side and put the record on the shelf, then turned and walked toward the door.

I stood there with my arms still wrapped around me and squeezed like a boa constrictor.

Holy fuck!

He didn’t even ask me out. It was more like a demand. I should’ve told him to go screw himself or made up some kind of excuse. He couldn’t just come into my workplace and command a date like that. What kind of girl did he think I was? Who the hell did he think he was? It wasn’t how I operated.

“You don’t even—”

He froze in front of the doorway and didn’t bother to turn around before cutting me off midsentence. “I know where you live. Be ready at seven.”

Oh. My. God.

Jenny was about to get a phone call as soon as he walked out the door. There was no way I was going on a date with someone that demanding. I told myself that over and over but something inside me couldn’t let go of one tiny little detail of which I was subconsciously aware.

I would, in fact, be ready at seven tomorrow.