The Bad Boys of Summer Anthology(17)

“That’s a good thing, right?” Heidi questions tentatively.

Pressing my palms into the mattress, I push myself to my feet and return to my makeup. “I think he’s falling in love with Sienna Jensen.”

Heidi slides into the chair on the far side of the dresser and begins rubbing globs of Victoria’s Secret lotion on her bare arms. “The chick filling in for you? He’s known her for…what? Maybe a total of three weeks if you count whatever happened between them a few years ago?”

I brush bronzer across my cheeks and shake my head. “Doesn’t matter. Lucas doesn’t act like this. Ever.” As I drag the hairpins out of my hair, I watch Heidi’s face as it draws into a network of worried lines. I can only assume she’s thinking about my brother’s ex-wife, and I swallow hard. “Yeah, I’m hoping it works out, too.”

“Sam’s been quiet lately. Maybe she’s gotten over him.”

Or Lucas is paying her off again.

I force a smile as I turn to face Heidi and then twist around in a slow circle. She rakes her eyes over me before giving me a slow nod of approval.

“Ready?”

“We’re late,” she points out as we leave our room. After I slide into my jacket, she squeezes my shoulder reassuringly. “Hey, stop worrying about your brother. He’s a big boy, so you don’t have to play relationship police. Samantha’s crazy ass has probably moved on, making some poor loser miserable.”

For Sienna and my brother’s sake, I hope Heidi is right.



Since Wyatt and Cal are long gone, and at this point, probably playing the second or third song of their set, Heidi and I walk the four blocks from our downtown hotel to the bar, huddled up close to each other despite the muggy Houston night. I don’t even think about my missing license until we’re about to be carded at the entrance, but then a willowy blonde with giant green eyes, who reminds me of Taylor Momsen from The Pretty Reckless, sidles up to the door supervisor.

“It’s alright. They’re with the Toxic Sequel boys,” she says in a husky voice. Raking her hand through her platinum hair, she winks a heavily lined eye at me. “Heidi and Kylie, right?” When I nod slowly, cocking one of my eyebrows, she shrugs. “You’re the only chick with blue hair who’s come in all night. I’ve been keeping an eye out for you for Wyatt and Cal.”

Moving aside, the bouncer jerks his head back into the bar, and Heidi and I step inside. Because it’s already steamy in here from the friction of so many scantily clad bodies, I shed my jacket and ball it up under my arm.

“Thanks,” I tell the blonde.

Her lips curve into a little smile. “Don’t mention it. Wyatt said you lost your ID, and I’m pretty close to the staff.”

It’s impossible for me not to notice the way her voice slides over his name. It’s the same way mine does when my legs are wrapped around his shoulders while my nails are digging into his back. I swallow hard but blame my sudden discomfort on thirst and the guy who accidentally bumps into me. “Glad he’s looking out for me.”

She tilts her head to the side, sizing me up, before she motions for Heidi and me to follow her. As she leads us through the throng of drinkers, she peeks back over her shoulders. “I’m Terra, Hazard Anthem’s manager.”

I’m not terribly old myself—only twenty-five—but Terra hardly looks old enough to be in this damn bar, much less be the band’s manager. I nod anyway as I step over a puddle of what I hope is booze on the floor. She stops to talk to some guy who stumbles all over her. When he grabs her ass, I can’t help but be a little envious. I modify my initial assessment of Terra.

She’s Taylor Momsen with Kim Kardashian’s ass.

“I want a drink,” Heidi says loud enough to be heard over the screech of the guitar and the lead singer, who is a screamer and a damn good one. “Want me to grab you something?”

“Corona?”

“You got it, babe. Get us a table?”

I slink away from Terra, who’s still in deep conversation with the groper, and find a spot close enough to the stage to get a good view of the band but far enough away so I won’t have groupies bumping into me every five seconds. When Wyatt’s eyes meet mine, he grins and winks. He strokes the tip of his thumb over the neck of his Kramer in a slow, deliberate movement meant to make me think of his fingers between my legs.

He succeeds.

“So, you’re Lucas-Fucking-Wolfe’s baby sister?” Terra slips into the seat meant for Heidi.

I give her a polite smile. “Unfortunately.”

“I met him once…in…” Terra darts her green eyes upward, trying to recall the exact location, and then she lowers her gaze, grinning. “2010.”

“At your high school graduation party?” I mean to keep that to myself, but somehow, it slips out.

She’s obviously not offended because she throws her head back and laughs.

“Rock Fest, but I’m pretty sure I’m older than Lucas and Wyatt.”

She says Wyatt’s name the same way she did at the door—with that desperate hush of admiration mixed with desire. I glide my tongue from side to side between my teeth. Plenty of women are attracted to Wyatt McCrae. There’s no reason whatsoever for me to have a negative reaction to this particular one just because she can appreciate a sexy, talented man.

Heidi’s hand reaches down over my shoulder, plunking a Corona with lime down in front of me. “Here you go, love.” I glance back at her just in time to see her give Terra a long look that’s one part curious and the other part aggressive. “Sorry, did you want me to grab you something, too?”

Sliding out of Heidi’s chair, Terra shakes her head. Her mane of blonde hair flies around her face like a slow-motion shampoo commercial. “I’ve got…” She flicks her green eyes toward the stage. “Band stuff to do, but I’ll catch up with you bitches later.” She winks again.

Somehow, Heidi holds in her snort until she’s out of earshot. “She’s cute.” She takes a swig of her banana bread–flavored beer. I’m a big fan of trying new flavors, but I can’t help but wrinkle up my nose at the bottle. “Bet she gets them a bunch of gigs.”

“Maybe.” I focus my eyes back to the stage. The band has changed songs, and now, they’re playing a metal version of Heart’s “Crazy on You” that literally gives me chills. It’s a feeling that very few bands have been able to bring out in me, and I’ve got a good feeling about Hazard Anthem’s future. “They could probably be managed by a fucking ogre and still hit it big.”

As my gaze skims back over Wyatt, I bite the inside of my lip. He’s sweaty from the heat and exertion. When he’s in his element like this, playing incredible music, it takes my breath away.

With a thoughtful look on her face, Heidi runs her finger in a circle around the neck of her beer bottle. “You think that’s why Cal and Wyatt are helping them out? I mean, you don’t think they’re thinking about leaving Your Toxic Sequel, do you?”

Wyatt told me before that he has no plans to leave the band, so I decide to take him for his word. “I think YTS will be alright.”

She breathes a relieved sigh before twisting around in her seat to watch the band perform. She taps her fingers on the table, singing along with the lyrics but getting seventy-five percent of them wrong. “You’re right. They are kick-ass,” she says once the song ends.

My sight is still connected with Wyatt’s midnight blue eyes as I murmur, “Absolutely amazing.”





Chapter Eight

My appreciation for Hazard Anthem’s music only grows over the next hour during the band’s seven-song set. The lead singer has a range that reminds me of M. Shadows, and I find myself developing a bit of a voice crush on him. The band performs a little of everything from the angst-filled and powerful to a couple more covers to even the upbeat innuendo-laced music that put Your Toxic Sequel on the map.

The moment their set is finished and they’ve torn down their equipment for the next band, the lead singer maneuvers through the crowd in our direction, seemingly oblivious to the female hands grasping at various parts of his body. Before I can say a word, he jerks me into a hug.

When I go entirely still, he pulls back a little, narrowing his dark eyes. “Ah shit, please tell me you’re Kylie.”

“Yeah, I am.”

He wraps his arms around me again, and Heidi makes a face at his back. “I’ve been wanting to meet the infamous Kylie Wolfe since Cal started playing with YTS.”

“You’re his cousin?” It’s a stupid question. They look similar, except this guy is built and has short, spiky black hair as opposed to Cal’s lanky stature and shoulder-length locks.

“Nate Romero,” he says. When his dark eyes brush over Heidi, he grins. “You must be—”

Since none of us know exactly what Cal has told his cousin about Heidi, she clears her throat. “Heidi Wright. Nice to meet you.” She lifts her chin slightly to take in Cal, who’s walking toward us and clutching two bottles of some specialty beer.

“What?” Heidi’s voice has dropped to the low, seductive purr she no doubt uses on her customers. “No PBR tonight?”