Page 6 of After All
“For you? Of course. What’s her name?”
“Amelie Evans. She’s a little squirt of a woman, barely cracks five feet.”
“VIP section full?” I ask, wondering how I’ll find her.
“Yeah. She’s over by the bar, her and a friend. Amelie’s got dark hair nearly to her waist. You won’t be able to miss her. She’s probably the only person that looks like she doesn’t want to be here.”
He chuckles, and I wonder what he means by that. Guess I’ll find out myself, because before I can ask, Derek rounds up the guys and pulls them towards the stage.
I duck into the dressing room and take a quick shower before pulling on jeans, a short-sleeve henley, and my battered cowboy boots, and I head out to the VIP area.
Walking to the table where Derek’s fiancée sits with friends and some of the band’s team, I make small talk as I scan the small area for anyone who fits the description of Charlie’s cousin.
Before I finish scanning the entire crowd, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and grin at the screen.
Jonesy
Nate said you killed it.
Carter
Eh, we did okay.
Jonesy
Attaway. Fox and I will be there in about half an hour.
Carter
I’ll be here.
I met Andrew Jones, the guy everybody calls Jonesy and the left-fielder for Nashville’s MLB team, the Wildcats, entirely by accident. He had a public appearance for the team’s foundation, and the label I work for provided talent for the gig. As one of the only guys in the room who didn’t have anything lined up that night, I got tapped to play a few songs as the very important people rubbed elbows and wrote checks.
The two of us hit it off, becoming fast friends. I don’t hold it against him that he likes rock better than country, and he doesn’t hold it against me that as a Fulton County kid, I’ll always be an Atlanta fan. Even when they kick his ass on the field.
Hell. Especially when they kick his ass on the field.
I raise my head and look around, taking in the whole VIP section this time, and when my eyes land on her, somehow I just know.
Goddamn.
Sitting in a chair with her fingers flying over her phone screen, I can’t see much, but what I can see sends a bolt of electricity down my spine.
Long, dark hair flows over her shoulders, partially hiding her face, but her olive skin against the stark white shirt she wears is striking. From here, her lips look to be moving, her head shaking every so often, and I nod to Emily and the rest of the band’s supporters and head towards the woman I so hope is Charlie’s cousin.
What did he say her name was again?
Chapter 4
Amelie
What was that?
A hand, just a couple of fingers really, brush across my shoulder blades, and the weight stops on my left shoulder. The touch freezes me where I sit, and my thumbs cease their blazing fast typing. My heart pounds out a rhythm, making me feel like it might just come through my ribcage.
But not for the typical reasons. Not because I hate it. I think… I think I like it?
What’s happening? Am I having some sort of medical event? Aneurysm? Stroke?
