“Jesus fuck, Georgia King! Who the hell let you out of the loony bin?”
A wide smile on a handsome face that was framed by more than a few piercings, including nose and lip rings, bent toward me. His neck that was shrouded in tattoos that matched the intricate ink on his forearms.
Travis Barlett.
Travis Barlett, a guy whose father owned half the county and a guy who had more money than anyone I knew. Probably more money than God.
Travis Barlett, the guitarist in Spleen.
Travis Barlett, the guy I’d been fucking on and off ever since I’d given him my virginity when I was fifteen.
Shit.
He and I had been a lethal combination back in the day and I didn’t want him anywhere near Ben. He was bad news and no doubt was still living in the place I never wanted to visit again.
“Hey,” I said frostily, not wanting to give him any ideas. “I’m surprised they let you in here. I thought you were banned after they caught you pissing in the fountain.”
He shrugged, a huge grin on his face. “My dad owns half of this dump so they can’t really keep me out.”
Right. Of course.
He leaned closer and I had to tilt my head in an effort to avoid connecting with his mouth. “You’re looking good for someone who pulled a fucking boner and nearly did herself in. What the hell was up with that?”
He grabbed my wrist and though I tried to yank away from him I couldn’t. He was too big and too strong and his thumb rolled my skin as his grin widened.
“Damn, Georgia, I’m glad you didn’t check out. That would have been a fucking shame you know?”
I scowled until he let me go. “What do you care, Travis?”
“I care because you’re probably the best piece of ass I’ve ever had and it would be a shame if I couldn’t dip my finger into your honey pot now and again.”
“Really? And that’s why I caught you screwing Rachel Nagel behind the stage after your show the last time we were together?”
Just thinking of that night pissed me off. I’d left the club, ended up wasted, high, and in bed with two guys I’d never met before.
He tried to swoop in for a kiss but I sidestepped and glared at him.
“Don’t get your panties in a knot. It’s not like we were ever exclusive and besides, you fucked around on me all the time.”
I hated that he was right.
I sighed and shrugged. “Whatever, Travis. I gotta run.”
He nodded toward the dining room. “Is that Ben Lancaster you’re with?”
My stomach flipped and the food I’d ingested earlier settled like a lump of stone.
“What’s it to you?” I asked, more harshly than I’d intended. But there was fear inside me. Fear that my old world was about to collide with my new one and there was no way in hell I wanted Travis and Ben to meet.
He grinned because he knew what was going on in my head, and I envisioned my fist meeting his nose.
“Maybe I want his autograph?”
“Maybe you’re full of shit,” I muttered and turned away from him.
I took a step but paused when I heard him chuckle. “And maybe you’re full of stupid. I know all about Lancaster and he’s way out of your league, King. Besides, deep down you’re a nasty girl, so when you get tired of that vanilla shit you know where to find me.”
I marched across the dining room and waited by the table, tapping my foot while Ben looked after the bill. Cherry and Jason had already left and it was just the two of us. I refused to look over my shoulder but I can’t lie, I was terrified that Travis was going to stroll over like he owned the place—which he did—and get in my face.
I was terrified that Ben would glimpse a little of what the old me had been like because I was pretty damn sure the old me would have sent him running the day we’d met. And even though I knew how this little story was going to end, I wasn’t ready to give him up. Not yet anyway.
“Ready?” Ben’s hands ran along the back of my neck and I nodded.
“Let’s get out of here.” I tugged on his hand.
“In a hurry?” he teased.
“What?” I was leading him through the dining room like we were marching to class and I groaned inwardly at the weird look he tossed my way. But he didn’t say anything else and we made it back to his truck without any Travis sightings.